This is what Freshman year was like.

I walked fourteen into Geography embarrassed enough
(Wearing the same tan sweater I just put on-
Today, in my sophomore year at university.)
“That’s a good color on you, Emily,” said Mr. Areu,
who always addressed me by name.
“Bet you’ve got your eye on some boy.”
A pause.
“He’s probably a senior.”
And with a chuckle to himself, he turned away as I
slid red-faced and bleary-eyed into my plastic chair.