As Easy As Murder

13. who is averen?

I'm once again on my route to class, grasping the finally correct assignment in my hand. Loretta trails behind me, hoodie pulled over her face, yet another migraine having her down for the count, courtesy of last night's alcohol. She's following me because the on-campus doctor's office is in the same direction of my lecture, and I have to guide her because she can barely see.  I managed to miraculously dodge my hangover with a home remedie my aunt taught me, Asian pear juice. Etti didn't get that lucky. 

"God damn it why is everything loud.." Complaints come from behind me, Loretta's voice low and raspy, sounding like she's on the brink of death and is actively on a ventilator. I turn over my shoulder at her. 

"I think you got some gnarly laryngitis going on." I input, observing her flushed face. Her usual fashionable look is on a break, replaced by the worlds biggest hoodie and cargos. She's finally opted for a pair of comfortable shoes, a breakthrough. 

She groans, doing a couple of angry stops as I guide her to the on-campus doctor. My knee has finally clotted and stopped bleeding, but I have to keep it dressed and can only wear long pants for a week. Being banned from cool tights? You might as well have given me 3 days to live. 

We get to the sleek white almost scary room, a frail elderly woman sits behind an ancient monitor, typing at snail speed. Loretta walks up to the desk and I stay behind, glancing at my smart watch. 

"Excuse me?" Loretta croaks, sounding like a bullfrog. 

The lady looks up at her, mouth permanently slightl open, glasses complete with those hanging chains that are exclusive to women over 60. The woman takes about half a decade to form a sentence, and I can tell this isn't going to be the most helpful medical visit of Loretta's life. "Yes, dear? How can I help you?" 

"I uhh, I ran out of Almotriptan, my migraine medication. I drank last night and it triggered an attack." I glance at my smartwatch again and see I need to hurry up and get to my lecture or Professor Simon's will call me out. I learned that if someone comes in 15 minutes late or more, she does this bizarre song. She claps her hands and goes 'hello, hello, we thought you wouldn't stop by friend, thank you for coming, don't let it happen again' for the pure sake of public humiliation and it damn works. Even that Ian guy shows up on time now to avoid the god forsaken hello song. 

I ditch Lorretta with a wave, receiving the bird in return. I arrive at my lecture, and look at the board. Nothing about the fake case assignment. Thank God, no sitting next to Kori. I sit down behind the jerk for the pure reason of being able to kick him. Anthony walks in shortly after, doing the same odd twirl he displayed to us at the library the other day, complete with fedora bow. 

Professor Simon's clears her throat, "Good morning. I am very pleased with the progress most of you have made on your face cases. The majority of you are impressing me. Some of you could stand to improve your teamwork." She makes direct eye contact with me and then Kori when she says that last park, and it feels like a slap with a ruler. I exhale through my teeth, swearing to not let Simon the chipmunk come between me and my dream anymore. 

She continues, "Today we will be working on a different assignment, this one will be a solo act." She turns to the board and writes down the words 'biggest injustice'. Some chatter Is heard from the back. Kori turns to look at me. Excuse me? Did he silently imply that I'm his biggest injustice? I'm the worst challenge he's ever had to face? I'm honored. 

"I would like you all to write a 10 page essay about your biggest injustice. It will be due at 11:59 wendesday." My mood falls. I've never been skilled at writing from the heart. I can whip up some fiction in 5 minutes, but you ask me to write from expirience? My own challenges? Obstacles I've faced? You get me staring at a blank page. Anthony is practically springing out of his seat at the chance to be talk about himself. 

I look down at my feet, gnawing on my cheek. My knee suddenly pulses again as the bandage slightly shift, I wince slightly and let out a pained whimper. Kori turns to look at my knee, and I  mouth 'what'. He mouthes 'you're dramatic'. I kick his seat, and he jumps. I snicker, earning a glare. 

Class ends, and just as i'm about to step out of the room, Kori grabs my wrist. It's my turn for jumping, the touch unexpected. "We need to work on the case." 

"What? No, I have to get this essay done tonight." 

"It's due wednesday, you can wait." 

I shake my head, "I can't, plans."

"Oh." 

 I look down at his hand, still wrapped around my wrist. A poorly drawn sharpie heart is just below his third knuckle, and my stomach sinks with jealousy. My eyes dart away from the doodle, and I feel shame for being jealous. Why am I jealous? Who's to say he didn't put it there himself? Why do I even care? 

I yank my arm away and turn away, walking off, leaving him standing there, still straight-faced. I don't go back to the dorm like I usually do. It's nearing October now, humidity has faced out into cold breezes, warm colored leaves crowd the ground. 

I stop, and turn around, removing my hand from the front door of the lobby. Cheryl is filing her nails, humming a showtune. I smile, and sit down on the blue comfy couch in the lobby. My laptop opens with a slight creak of the  hinges, reminding me I've had it since sophmore year of highschool and it has to go. But who has the money? I don't want to ask my parents. Dads bike shop has been slow, and God knows they can't live on Mom's yoga class and Etsy store. 

I open a document, titling it 'biggest injustice'. And I sit there. Staring at the flickeering curser, ticking like a lock, reminding me that I need to get this done. I sigh, my eyes darting around the lobby and settling on LED fireplace, blue hologram flames coming from a realistic coal holder. I shift, finger running over the seam of the couch. 

What is my biggest injustice? 

My ex comes to mind. But he wasn't my biggest injustice. He was a lot of little injustices made up into one, prematurely balding guy. He wasn't an injustice himself, he just caused a bunch. 

My fingers tap on the table. 

Brap Brap Brap.

My mind is empty, not even a tumbleweed. Just an endless void, the thoughts that usually crowded apparently having gone out for cocktails. I sigh deeply, this seemingly simple assignment having caught me off gaurd. 

Many injustices fill the void over the course of the next 10 minutes, and not one is my own. Janey's biggest injustice, Bishop's, Vicky's, Jesse's. All big, not mine. I sigh, leaning my neck back on the couch. 

I give up, accepting that I'm not going to come up with an idea on my own. I walk up to Cheryl's desk. We're on a first name basis. She said I'm her favorite. Would it be right to ask advice from her? I'm not one to seek help, I'm usually able to concur my own obstacles, find confidence in my own mind, I can usually get by. But now Cheryl Is here, and it feels like there's finally someone who makes my knowledge feel small, inferior. Someone I finally feel can help me. 

"Cheryl?" I say quietly, my least common volume. 

She looks up at me, warm smile. "Hey sugar, what can I help you with?" 

I pause. What can she help me with? She doesn't know my life. She doesn't share my memories. As much as I wish she was, she's not a psychic. 

"Uhh, nothing. Just wanted to say hello." 

She smiles brighter, "Well howdy-doo." 

20 minutes later I'm kicking myself for not telling her I'm stumped. I'm pacing in the dorm, laptop balanced on the edge of the coffee table, curser having not moved. Loretta comes stomping in, looking even worse than before. She puts on the throwback movie channel, cursing under her breath as she kicks her legs up. 

"Uhhhh, I'm gonna assume that didn't go well," I pick up my laptop before it falls from the earthquake of Loretta's steps. 

"That corpse didn't help me at all. Told me to talk a Tylenol and try dressing up." 

"Dressing up?" 

"Told me 'you look good, you feel good.'" 

I faceplam. This a bit concerning to me, knowing that this is what I have to rely on if I have a medical emergency on campus. I look down at my knee, which is still faintily stinging. She looks at my knee too, and we both stare at it. It's a reminder. A reminder that I let my ex have control over me again. 

I turn to the gaping white of the open document, faced with my failure. "My day isn't going much better, I got an essay and I'm stumped." 

Also I got jealous over some marker on some skin. The skin of my enemy. But I don't bring that up. 

"What's the subject?" She perks up.

"Biggest injustice." 

She nods slowly, thinking, probably not thinking about the essay. Probably thinking about a chicken wrap. As I mention before, Loretta is not the person to enlist the help of on this, unless I want to write about ol' Georgie Washywash. I go to step my leg up onto the coffee table to tie my shoe, but it throbs, holding me back. 

It comes to me. 

Being held back. My biggest injustice is being held back by my past. Being unable to be completely loose, though I've gotten pretty damn close. For a year I was restrained. For a year I was flunking out of my classes, hardly eating, chasing sleep. All because of someone who's hairline was trying to run away from him. 

I start cranking out words like a factory, tongue poking out of my mouth in concentration. Loretta is ranting, and her anger seems to fuel mine, my essay becoming jam-packed with real pain and emotion that I forgot I had. My fingers move a mile a minute, word after word after word, pouring my heart and soul into the pdf, putting my private buisness for Professor Simon's eyes only.  I step back, confident in what I'd written, and my progress. I save the file, and lift my hands up like I just got told time's up on a food network show. 

Loretta claps, even though she has no idea what she's clapping for. "10/10 performance. I'd victory dance for you, but on a scale of 1 to about to puke, I'm at an 8." 

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I wake up to an email from professor Simons. 

'Hello 8am criminology, 

I am just realizing that I forgot to clarify something in class yesterday. You will be prestenting your essay orally to the class. The essay will be most graded on participation and your speaking skills. In this profession that you are training for, speech skills are crucial. 

I apologize for not clarifying earlier. I hope this did not cause inconvience. 

Sincerely, Patricia Simons.' 

Uh-oh