Saturday and college football is in the air. But I just remembered I don't care. Watch out for William Paterson! They might win 3 games this year. As for the pros, it's the same old Bengals. They lose because of 2 turnovers and they can't convert an extra point. Same story as last year, and the year before that, and the 11 years before that...Here's part 2 of my story.
Late on a Thursday morning, the student center usually becomes a jubilant place to be, since the weekend would be creeping up soon. Not today, though. The murder of a fellow peer, Erika Harmon, stirred up the entire student body. Erika was a plain girl-not very smart or athletic, just your everyday Jane Doe.
“I heard she was found with her eyes missing,” said Corey, my boyfriend.
“I guess she didn’t see it coming,” said a giggling Andy.
You would think they would be mature enough to respect the dead since they’re in college. I won’t call them college students because I can’t say if they actually study, but they are in college. I have been going out with Corey for only about two months now, so I don’t know where our relationship is going, but I do know I need him to grow up a little bit.
“That’s so rude. You’re joking about a girl who was just murdered,” I snapped.
“Sorry, Christy.”
“I’ll be right back. Please stop joking about this. It’s not funny. This is serious.”
I made my way to the restroom before Corey and I left for his place. The boys continued to talk despite the plea, but kept it at a whisper at least.
“Dude, I heard they found a note that said ‘love is blind’ or something,” said Corey.
“Well, she didn’t have any eyes, so…” Andy giggled again.
“Yeah, because the killer probably did something freaky with them, like put ‘em in his pants or something.”
“Ooooh. Well, I gotta go see if I have my class, so I’ll see you later,” Andy uttered. Andy was even slightly disturbed by my boyfriend’s lack of taste. He made a grimace that Corey probably interpreted as a smile, but most would recognize as a “you went a bit too far with that one” look. He turned towards the glaring sun and made his way to the Comm Building for class. Andy was majoring in communication. He wasn’t a brilliant human, but he knew how to talk and listen well.
I returned, worried. It seemed surreal that murder could get this close. Corey knew I was upset. He kissed me lightly on the cheek to let me know he was there, and led me out to his car so we could go to his house. Our classes were done for the day. It was weird. I didn’t really want to go.
“I almost got into an accident on my way here,” Corey blurted.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, not really aware of what he said.
“Are you gonna be OK?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I shook my head no to contradict my words. Corey pulled me close to hug me, but he knew I wasn’t hugging back.
He shut the car door after I was seated and went around to get in his side. There was a ticket lodged underneath his wiper blade. He was familiar with finding the bills on his windshield. He opened the glove box, folded the ticket quickly, and stuffed it among the crinkled repair slips. Careless.
The car started. Silence. The radio wasn’t…Well, it wasn’t on. The horrible sounds of manufactured modern rock sounded abruptly in the speakers and Corey continued to switch between commercials and Linkin Park. I couldn’t decide which was worse. Although annoying, I realized that I had momentarily forgotten about the horrifying events.
Corey recklessly plops into a spot not far from his place, between an oversized SUV and dumpy pick-up. The Subaru’s front end is brushing the tail of the SUV, and his rear is jutting out past the width of even the SUV. Instead of straightening the car, he stops the engine and slams the door. I get out and grasp his hand lightly. We walk towards his apartment.
Number 7 is nearly invisible from the street. It hides at the junction of the L-shaped complex, behind bristly shrubs. There’s always bees hovering around from the vegetation. We enter and he throws his keys on the old end table. We plop ourselves on his couch and welcome the safety of a home.
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