The Infamous Scowling Incident - Revised

Note:  This is unassigned, but I wanted to share my revisions with the class.     

     Oh god!  Where the hell is she?

     I've been sitting in the lobby of the Worthington University Library for the last half-hour waiting on this heavy-set gal in my British Literature class to show up.  She works at the circulation desk until three and she should've met me by now.  I need to give her the rough draft of her research paper so she can work on her final draft that's due Monday.  We did a one-on-one workshop in class today and I just finished looking it over.  It has been hard for me to concentrate on anything ever since I found out by e-mail early this morning that I didn't get the internship as an assistant editor for The Dallas Review of Prose and Poetry.  It's a shame.  I was really looking forward to reading all the different short story submissions from around the world.  Two weeks 'til graduation and I don't have a job lined up.  This awful recession has reduced the number of openings for college grads like me.

     Since my British Lit partner's not up here yet, I decide to text Paul and ask him what time we're playing football.  He's been an intern for Campus Crusaders for the last three semesters.  I've been a member of this laid back Christian group ever since my freshman year (two years before Paul's arrival).  His charisma makes him the coolest intern the organization's ever had.  He's tall and athletic and encourages the guys who are involved to play every Friday afternoon.  We normally play at four, but lately, Paul's pushed the game up to three-thirty since it gets dark so early outside.  After I text him, I notice my workshop partner still hasn't shown up.  Okay, time to go look for her.

     I go over to the circulation desk, covered with miniature multi-colored Christmas lights twisted through evergreen branches.  I need to find out if my partner's still up there.  She's not!  Okay then.  I'll get on one of the computers over in the lab and check my e-mail.  What else am I gonna do besides wait around out in the cold for people to show up for football?

     As I log into my e-mail account, I receive a text back from Paul, saying, "Football at 3:30.  Come bring it!"

     Oh god!  I'm running late.

     I frantically log out of my e-mail account and grab my navy blue Nike gym bag.  Once I start walking, I realize that I'm missing something.  I've left my blue beanie and thick, dark Columbia gloves by the computer.  Dammit!  Now I've gotta go back and get my hat and gloves.  From now on, I'm gonna leave them in my backpack or gym bag when I'm inside.

     On the way back from getting my hat and gloves, I look towards the circulation desk one last time to see if my British Literature partner's there, but she isn't.  Dammit!  Did she miss her shift?  Boy, is she in trouble now?  It's okay.  It happens to the best of us.

     While all of this is processing through my head, I see my friend Christina, who takes over my elusive Literature partner's shift on Friday afternoons.  Christina and I have known each other since our freshman year of high-school, and she liked what Worthington had to offer just as much as I did.  Her straight, dark hair and blue eyes make her attractive, which is why she gets plenty of long stares from the guys on campus.  We could've dated all these years, but we didn't want to ruin our friendship.  Anyhow, as I walk by the circulation desk, she's looking at me, and I've got an angry look on my face and I'm breathing real hard.  She has a stunned look on her face.  Oh god!  Did I just scowl at her?  She'll never speak to me again.  It's okay.  I just need to play football and take my mind off of this.

     When I walk out into the cloudy, thirty degree weather, I debate whether I should text Paul back to tell him that I'm running late.  Nah, I'm not gonna worry about it.  He should realize that I'm already on my way over to the intramural fields.

     As I'm walking across University Drive, I see this blond-hair girl wearing a dark jacket and a gray, black striped skirt running right by me barefoot.  At least she has opaque tights on to cover her tiny feet.  But still, she's crazy to be doing this in the frigid Texas weather.  I guess those black high-heeled dress shoes she's carrying in her right hand were hurting her feet.  Unlike me, she's panicking and yelling out, "Oh my god!  I'm not gonna make it."

     I guess she was supposed to meet somebody or be somewhere and lost track of time.  Seeing this girl makes me want to run over to the intramural fields.  At least I've got my Asics 2140 running shoes.  This will save me some time.

     I start running over there once I get past University Drive.  I think of it as if I'm going for a seven-mile run.  I blaze past the new dormitory buildings that I've been living in this semester and the recreation center.  I'm bundled up in a green windbreaker, black wind pants, and the beanie and gloves I almost left behind in the library.  I don't have time to go back to my dorm to grab my thin pair of Asics running gloves.  I run up until I get to the intersection of Stadium and Park Place, which is a busy intersection with only a four-way stop.  Worse yet, I've gotta put up with rush hour traffic.  Dammit!  I was making up some time.  Oh good!  The guy to my left in the silver Nissan Pathfinder is letting me cross.

     I give him a thank-you wave as I run across the intersection.  Okay, I'm almost there.  I just need to get past the Greek dormitories and jog down the small flight of stairs and I'll be there.

     Despite everything I've been through today, I arrive at the fields at a quarter 'til four.  The fields are still damp with some small patches of snow off to the side.  There's only one football game going on.  Dammit!  They started without me.  It's okay.  I probably haven't missed much.

     "Where have you been?  The Deltas have already scored a touchdown and we've been waiting for a sixth man to show up so we could equal the number they have," Paul yells out at me as I place my Nike bag by the fence.

     "No you haven't!  You went ahead without me.  God, I can't believe you're only in short sleeves and shorts.  You're no different than this gal I saw on the way over here running around barefoot.  It makes me cold just looking at you two," I thought to myself.  I actually don't reply back to Paul.  I'm pretty much quiet the whole time I'm out here.  Not getting the internship and then my Literature partner not showing up has put me in a foul mood.  The only time I say anything is when Paul chases down the Deltas' quarterback, Jason, who's wearing a dark green Michael Vick Eagles jersey in Dallas Cowboy country.  Paul shouts out as Jason runs out of bounds, "He beats dogs!  He beats dogs!"

     "Okay Paul.  We get it," I remind him with a smile before Jason's able to hear his comment.

     Other than that, I don't say anything else.  On the next play, I get real aggressive for a game of touch football.  Jason hikes the ball.  Randy, the tight end, runs a short slant across the middle.  Jason passes it to him.  I'm coming to bring the pain.  Randy catches the pass.  He is hit immediately and goes flying into the air.  Fortunately, there aren't any refs out here to throw a flag for unnecessary roughness.

     He gets his big, muscular body up from the wet grass and says to my face, "Dude!  What the hell's your problem?  You could've broken my back.  It's not tackle football."

     I'm not in the mood to fight back, and instead walk away from the game.  Randy yells out, "Where do you think you're going?  You can't just quit in the middle of the game.  Come back here!"

     Paul runs up and encourages me, "Just ignore Randy.  He's a jerk.  It's about time somebody took him down like you did.  In the three semesters I've been here, you play the best defense out of our entire organization, and we need to see more of that in order to beat these guys."

     "I wish I could stay and finish the game, but I just realized I've gotta meet someone at the library," I give him an excuse.  I need to find a way to take myself out of the game so that I don't have to deal with Randy.  Lying to Paul is the best solution I could come up with.

     As I leave the intramural fields, I realize something.  I could e-mail my workshop partner and set up a meeting time over the weekend to return her draft.  Even though she lives off campus, she's gonna need her paper at some point.  The town's not that big.  It shouldn't take her that long to get here from her apartment.  Why didn't I think of this before?

     Instead of walking back to my dorm, I decide to return to the library and e-mail my partner.  Hey, Christina's gonna be up there for another hour.  Maybe I'll run into her and be able to apologize for scowling at her.

     I decide not to run over there since I've got lots of time.  I bet that gal that ran around barefoot isn't going to be rushing back from whatever she tried to get to on time.

     The sun begins to peek out from behind the clouds by the time I walk back across University Drive.  I see that same gal who ran across this street barefoot an hour ago, except this time she's walking with her dark-haired friend, probably talking about girl stuff.  But she's still going around without any shoes on.  God, she must really hate those shoes.  I know what she's gonna be wanting for Christmas.  At least her friend's wearing black boots.  I guess that's who the barefoot gal was in a hurry to meet.

     The first thing I do when I return to the library is walk by the circulation desk.  Christina's not there.  Hmm, maybe she's in the quiet section stacking books.  Well, I guess I'll go e-mail my British Lit partner.

     In my e-mail to her, I write, "Where were you?  I spent a half-hour in the library lobby waiting for you to get off work.  It would be best for you to meet me this weekend on campus to pick up your draft.  So, when do you want to pick it up and where would you like to meet?"

     After I send the e-mail, I go and look over at the circulation desk again for Christina.  I still don't see her.  Well, the only other choice I've got is to go to the quiet section and do some studying.  Maybe I'll run into her on the way over.

     I walk down until the end of the long, green-carpeted pathway and look around real carefully to see if she's in here.  Even after looking down all the rows of where the books are placed in alphabetical order according to the authors' last names, I still can't find her.  I decide to walk back down the pathway.  The library's surprisingly crowded for a Friday afternoon.  I guess because finals are near, people are real serious about studying.

     Luckily, I pass by an open table on my left.  I pull up one of the wooden chairs that face the pathway so I can look to see if Christina's walking by without having to crane my neck.  And also too, it'll be easy for me to apologize to her.

     I spend an hour in the quiet section answering some of the questions related to the study guide for my U.S. Geography final.  Most of the time, I just sit here and look for her.  Unfortunately, I don't see her.  Dammit!  I guess she already went back to her apartment for the weekend.  I'm gonna be brooding about the scowling incident all weekend.

     While I'm getting ready to pack away my study materials though, I see someone entering the quiet section.  That's not some stranger, it's Christina, and she's looking at me with a pleasant smile on her face.