The Protection

Thirteen

I stared at the cherry red Chemistry counter trying to focus on anything other than Peter's empty seat or the way Crystal/Christine's stool was pushed too close to mine. I could smell her tuna fish sandwich in her backpack. It was hard to focus on much of anything these past few days. All I could see was a pair of devilish Brown Eyes. Beautiful. Mysterious. Sexy. Floating before me, twinkling brightly as his white teeth bit into his full lower lip. I pushed back my stool. I had to get out of here. Away from the bloody countertop and periodical charts and empty seats and tuna.

I didn't even bother asking for permission as I left the classroom and stalked down the hallway to the ladies room. I stared into the mirror that was chipping around the edges, barely recognizing myself. I had deep bags under my eyes and my hair hung in a long lifeless braid down my back. The large black loaner shirt fanned out around me atop of my light denim cut off shorts, the ones that were more than likely too short for dress code. My mind flashed to the way Peter had disgustingly hinted I wore them for his benefit. I kicked my black mid-shin combat boot against the wall at the memory, leaving a long black streak.

I closed my eyes, begging to rid the image of Peter from my mind, trying to focus on my former oasis instead. The small tan two bedroom house in the outskirts of Portland, Oregon. The house we rented with the dirty gray shutters, without a functioning air conditioner or dishwasher, and with the water heater that was always on the fritz, the home I loved. Perched across the street from a rundown park with a killer view and a small breakfast place down the hill, where despite the Russian owner not knowing a lick of English he was always effortlessly kind. Most of all though, I loved the strong woman who also lived there, the one who raised me and loved me, even during my rebellious Freshman year. My mom, Misty, would absentmindedly tell me how pretty I was over her shoulder while brushing her dark brown curly hair into a bun, pulling on her mesh hairnet. A brief pause before she hurried to her next job. Two ships passing in the night.

I used to resent how hard she worked, always gone and never around to watch me grow up. It wasn't until I was a little older that I finally understood all the painstaking work was for me. She worked hard so I could afford the volleyball camps and summer trips the other girls got to take. She had always managed to provide for me, but I wanted more. More than the nine to five and graveyard shifts I had come to know. More than the medical billing and kitchen work. When I broke my arm at twelve, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to be an Emergency Room doctor. I wanted to fix broken people, and have the financial stability a doctor's salary provided. However, the thought of medical school, let alone college, was always a distant dream. A dream only my classmates with deep pockets could frivolously think about. They only had to worry about where they were going to school in the fall, not if they would be able to go. When I received the news of a full athletic scholarship to a small school in Texas, my mom was naturally thrilled and pushed for me to accept without hesitation. The fact that I was more than a little burned out from volleyball was irrelevant. We both knew volleyball and this scholarship at Dallas Christian was my only shot at college.

I splashed some cool water on my face, forcing myself back into my not so pleasant present situation. I knew class was drawing to an end and I would have to retrieve all my things so I stood up, patted my face dry, and walked slowly down the hallway, leaving thoughts of Portland and the black mark on the wall behind.

I grabbed my things right as the bell rang, but Professor Slagle approached me as I tried to escape through the door with the other students. He looked like he may have been nice to look at once, before the octagonal rose glasses overtook his face and the protruding beer belly overtook his waistband.

"Miss Andrews?" he inquired and I stopped, pulling up the dense backpack on my shoulder a little higher. A nervous fidget. "I noticed you didn't turn in your homework today. Is everything alright?" I looked down at the polished white and green checkered laminate floor. I was normally a straight A student. If I lost my scholarship for academic reasons, I would never be able to finish college. Especially not at this private college with its insanely high tuition, which is why I had always been so careful to study hard and stay ahead.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I honestly forgot." I blushed for full effect. "Volleyball has just been taking up so much of my time," I lied, biting my full lower lip, and he studied me for a moment.

"Yes, of course. I'm just so glad we won!" He whispered elated. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I had never understood why sports fans directly involved themselves into every win. I'm sorry, I must've missed you at our five A.M. workouts, or back in August in the one hundred degree face-melting heat when we had our endurance training - after having two grueling back to back practices. He paused for a moment, surveying his surroundings to make sure we were alone. "You can just turn in your lab paper Wednesday for half credit," he relented, surprisingly, as he was notorious for sticking to the syllabus and not giving second chances. I thanked him as I hurried through the classroom door, trying to ignore the way he eyed my long legs as I walked away.