Oh god! Where the hell is she?
I sat in the lobby of the Worthington University Library for a half hour waiting on this heavy-set gal in my British Literature class to show up. She worked at the circulation desk until three on Friday afternoons. She should've met me by now. I needed to give her the rough draft of her research paper because our final drafts were due Monday. We did a one-on-one workshop in class the Friday before on our drafts and I had recently finished looking it over.
I fidgeted in my chair with a scowl on my face. I wanted to forget about the email I received earlier that Friday morning from the editor-in-chief at The Dallas Review of Prose and Poetry, "We are sorry to inform that you do not meet the requirements for the assistant editor position at our fine journal. Thanks for applying."
It's a shame. I was really looking forward to reading different short story submissions from around the world. Two weeks until 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 wasn't there yet, I texted Paul to ask him what time we were playing football. He'd been an intern for Campus Crusaders for the last year and a half. I'd been a member of this laid-back Christian group ever since Paul's arrival. One of my good friends invited me to the organization's Wednesday night large group meetings last fall and Paul's charisma made it worth joining.
Paul was tall and athletic and encouraged the guys to play football every Friday afternoon. We normally played at four, but lately Paul pushed the game up to three-thirty since the days had gotten shorter. After I texted him, I noticed my workshop partner still hadn't shown up. Okay, time to go look for her.
I walked over to the circulation desk, covered with miniature multi-colored Christmas lights twisted through evergreen branches. I needed to find out if my partner was still up there. I noticed an old lady with round spectacles was helping a dark-haired girl, but there wasn't any sign of my partner. Okay, then. I'll get on one of the computers over in the lab and check my email. This will be a better use of my time. What else am I gonna do besides wait around out in the cold for people to show up for football?
I found an open PC to my right on the first long table I passed. As I logged into the computer, Paul texted me back, saying, "Football at 3:30. Come bring it!"
Oh god! I'm running late.
I gave a hard left-click on the mouse and logged off. I snatched my navy blue Nike gym bag underneath the table and started heading out. As I was getting ready to leave the lab, I realized that I was missing something. I'd left my blue beanie and thick, dark Columbia gloves next to the computer. Dammit! Now I've gotta go back and get my beanie and gloves. From now on, I'm gonna leave them in my backpack or gym bag when I'm inside.
After I went back to grab my beanie and gloves, I looked towards the circulation desk one last time to see if my literature partner was there. I still couldn't find her. Dammit! Did she miss her shift? Boy, is she in trouble now? It happens to the best of us.
While all of this processed through my head, I saw my friend Christina, who took over my elusive partner's shift on Friday afternoons. Christina and I knew each other since our freshman year of high school, and she liked what Worthington offered as much as I did. Her straight, dark hair and blue eyes made her attractive, which was why she received 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, Christina smiled at me as she was getting ready to load books onto the cart, but I barely acknowledged her as I stormed past her. Her smile turned into a stunned look. Oh god! Did I just scowl at her? She's gonna wonder why I'm angry, but I don't have time to explain. It's okay. I'll explain it to her later. I just need to play football and not think about my problems.
When I walked out into the cloudy, thirty-degree weather, I debated whether I should text Paul back to tell him that I was running late. Nah, I'm not gonna worry about it. He should realize that I'm already on my way over.
As I walked across University Drive, I noticed this blond-hair girl wearing a dark jacket and a gray, black striped skirt running right by me barefoot. At least she had opaque tights on to cover her tiny feet. But still, she was crazy to be doing this in the frigid Texas weather. I guess those black pumps she's carrying in her right hand were hurting her feet.
Like me, she panicked and yelled 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. That gal made me want to run the rest of the way to the intramural fields. At least I had my Asics 2140 running shoes. This would save me some time.
Asics running gloves. I ran up until I got to the intersection of Stadium and Park Place, which was busy with only a four way stop. Worse yet, I had to put up with rush hour traffic. Dammit! I was making up some time. Oh good! The guy to my left in the silver Pathfinder is letting me cross.
I gave him a thank-you wave as I ran 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 went through that Friday, I arrived at the intramural fields at a quarter 'til four. The fields were still damp with some small patches of snow off to the side. I noticed that there was only one football game going on. Dammit! They started without me. I missed our pregame prayer. But, I probably haven't missed much else.
"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 yelled out at me as I placed my Nike bag next to the metal 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 just saw running around barefoot. It makes me cold just looking at you two. I actually didn't reply back to Paul. I was pretty much quiet the whole time I was out there. Not getting the internship and then my literature partner not showing up had put me in a foul mood. The only time I said anything was when Paul chased down the Deltas' quarterback, Jason, who wore a dark green Michael Vick Eagles jersey in Dallas Cowboy country. Paul shouted out as Jason ran out of bounds, "He kills dogs!"
"Okay, Paul. We get it," I reminded him with a smile before Jason was able to hear his comment.
I didn't say anything else. On the next play, I got 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.
Randy lifted his big, muscular body up from the wet grass and got into my face, "Dude! What the hell's your problem? You could've broken my back. It's not tackle football."
I wasn't in the mood to fight back and instead walked away from the game. Randy yelled out, "Where do you think you're going? You can't just quit in the middle of a game. Come back here!"
Paul ran up and encouraged 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 gave him an excuse. I needed to find a way to take myself out of the game so that I didn't have to deal with Randy. Lying to Paul was the best solution I could come up with.
I made a break for it and ran across the windy field. As I was leaving the fields, I realized something. I could email 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 to work on her revisions 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 decided to return to the library and email 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 decided not to run over there since I had plenty of time. The sun began to peek out from behind the clouds by the time I walked back across University Drive. I saw that same gal who ran across that street barefoot an hour earlier, except this time she was walking with her dark-haired friend. They seemed to be giggling about girl stuff. But she was still going around without any shoes on. God, she must 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 did when I returned to the library was walk by the circulation desk. There was no one there. Hmm, maybe Christina's in the quiet section stacking books. Well, I guess I'll go email my British Lit partner.
The PC that I briefly logged onto before I rushed out of there to go play football was still available. I logged in the second time around without any interruptions. In my email to her, I wrote, "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 on campus this weekend to pick up your rough draft. So, when do you want to pick it up and where would you like to meet?"
After I sent the email, I went and looked over at the circulation desk again for Christina. I still didn't see anyone that looked familiar. 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 later.
I walked down until the end of the long, green-carpeted aisle and scanned the area to see if she was in there. Even after glancing down all the rows of where the books were placed in alphabetical order of the authors' last names, I still couldn't find her. I decided to walk back down the aisle. The library was surprisingly packed for a Friday afternoon. I guess because finals are near people are serious about studying.
Luckily, I saw an open table two rows down to my left in the dusty corner. I went over there and pulled up one of the wooden chairs that faced the aisle so I could see if Christina walked by without having to crane my neck.
I spent an hour in the quiet section answering some of the questions related to the study guide of my U.S. Geography final, but most of the time I sat in there doing nothing. Lots of people walked past me, but not Christina. Dammit! I guess she already went back to her apartment for the weekend. I need to call her this evening or I'm gonna be brooding about the scowling incident all weekend.
While I was getting ready to pack away my study materials though, I heard faint footsteps. My heart slowed to a near normal pace. I wonder who this could be. Hopefully, not another stranger. I looked up to see who it was. That time, it wasn't some stranger. It was Christina, and she looked at me with a pleasant smile on her face.
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