Spoke Too Soon
I had my best print in a sheet protector in the folder I was currently carrying. I was so proud of it. It was taken yesterday morning at dawn. I had climbed up to my dorm roof and snapped a photo of the campus below. The shadows resemble the trees that they are outlined from, flat black images stretched across the courtyard concrete. The colours were brilliant, it being fall and the light being cast red. I thought it was perfect, each line pronounced, yet blending into each other smoothly, and everything flowing together in a deliberate but natural composition. I hoped MacNeill would love it as much.
I was smiling, walking on clouds, reflecting on how well things were going, when- BAM!
All my papers and books in my arms scattered on the ground. The figure that rammed into me, a roller skater, kept going as if he hadn't almost knocked me to the ground. My jaw dropped at his rude behavior, I stared after him for a second or two. This was a mistake.
Someone else ran into me, a skateboarder, and this time both of us fell to the ground. I hit the concrete with a thud, my head smacking into the pavement with a sickening crack. The other person fell next to me, nearly on top of me. There were multiple snapping sounds, like the snapping of plastic disconnecting. Then all was silent and still.
I lay still, unsure if I were hurt or not, staring up at the sky far above, frozen. The other person was just as still. I wondered if they were hurt, and I was about to ask when I felt a hot liquid seeping through my shirt under me.
Panic rose in me. My first thought was that it was blood, that one of us was injured and bleeding heavily, but then I smelled it. I didn't smell iron, or any metallic substance. I smelled coffee.
My clothes were stained with coffee now, more to the pile of coffee stained clothes in my drawer. It wasn't a big deal, not at all, until I remembered that I wasn't the only thing on the ground. So were my things. This prompted me to sit up, which prompted the other person to rise as well. I looked around, seeing that the place where the coffee had exploded was exactly on top of my things.
My papers, my homework for stats and economics, was brown and dripping, see through. My red folder was soaked, coffee visibly leaking in and out of its folds. It came to me slowly that this was the folder that held my print for MacNeill.
My heart jumped in my chest, painfully, and I lunged for the folder, ripping it open and grabbing the print still in its sheet protector. I quickly realized the sheet protector wasn't enough. Coffee had leaked into the plastic cover and now stained and soaked my print. My stomach stirred uneasily, my heartbeat quickening.
"Shit I'm so sorry! I-I can reprint everything for you if you send me your information," the skateboarder offered, her voice worried and nervous. I looked up at her, her figure blurry. I didn't realize I was crying.
No its alright. We all make mistakes. It was an accident... Sorry about your coffee," I said, glancing around as I wiped the tears from my eyes at the multiple empty cups scattered around the ground. She was probably an intern on a coffee run or something.
'The coffee isn't important... are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice calmer now. I nodded, grabbing together my hopeless papers. They fell apart as I touched them, making the girl groan in unease. I nodded.
All this work is saved to my computer. Its no big deal. I'm pretty sure my teachers will understand," I said, throwing her a smile despite the tears rolling down my cheek. She gave me an uneasy smile, her face still blurry, and nodded at me awkwardly.
"Okay... I have to go get new coffee. Um... I hope everything works out," she said as she quickly grabbed together her empty cups. She jumped on her skateboard and rushed off.
I paused, laying my things on my lap for a second before looking at my watch. I was late for third period. Just as that thought ran through my head, the bell rang. I cursed, balling together all my soaking papers and throwing them all away except for the print. I swung my bag on my shoulder and ran for MacNeill's room, hoping and praying that the night of my detention was enough to warm him up to me so that he wouldn't murder me for this.
When I finally reached the room, I was shaking with nerves, feeling tears beginning to cloud my eyes once again. I paused outside, taking a few seconds to collect myself and wipe away my tears. I took a deep breath, clutching my brown print, and pushed through the door.
MacNeill was talking to the class, and stopped as I opened the door. All eyes turned to me, laughter bubbling up as they settled. MacNeill narrowed his own eyes, looking me up and down, before walking to meet me as I entered further into the room.
"I'll have you know I do not accept tardiness. You will be penalized for this. Do you at least have your print?" he asked. I gave him a nervous smile, my stomach starting to twist more. I waved the ruined negative.
"This is it. On my way here, I got into a pedestrian accident and it was ruined along with my work for other classes. I can easily get it to you by--
"No!" he yelled, interrupting me and silencing everyone in the room, who had taken up whispering as we were interacting. My heart stopped. He glared at me, his gaze filled with fire. "I do not accept late work or excuses. You will get a failing grade on this assignment and that is final."
I opened my mouth, coming up dumbfound, staring at him in shock as he turned from me and walked back to his desk. "B-but... I have it right here. I can reprint it right-" "No! There will be no exceptions," he interrupted me, looking at me as if I were stupid, his brow knitted in fury, I felt tears cloud my eyes quickly, one dripping down. I closed my mouth, gulping back a sob, and nodded.
"Yes, sir," I said in a choked voice.
I turned and pushed out of the room as another tear rolled down my cheek. I balled up the print and threw it on the ground, a squeak of frustration escaping from my mouth. I stomped my foot, more tears escaping my eyes, and reached up to let my hair loose. I shook my curls out and ran my fingers through it, gripping it back from my face and closing my eyes. I leaned against the wall and sighed, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly.
The door opened next to me, and there was a pause before the one who opened it came out completely, closing the door again. I heard them shuffle, cloth rustling, and then there was another long pause. It was as if they were waiting for me to acknowledge them. I didn't.
They moved again, this time shuffling a great deal. I heard a cracking and recognized the sound. Knees. A scraping of plastic against concrete told me that he was taking up my abandoned print, and a crinkling of plastic and paper told me he was straightening it out.
It was during the pause after he straightened it out that I let go of my head, crossing my arms over my chest, and opened my eyes. I looked down at him. MacNeill was kneeling down, his elbows balanced on his knees, my wrinkled print opened back up. He was looking over it, a look of concentration on his face, biting his thumbnail. He then looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second before he straightened himself up to a standing position. He leaned against the wall next to me, snapping my picture up so that both of us could look at it. He somehow still kept his distance.
"It's weak... the composition, I mean," he told me. I nodded, gesturing my hands, shifting to lean my right shoulder on the wall, my body angled toward him but my face still staring at my drained of colour print.
"The colour was an important aspect of the composition--
"False," MacNeill interrupted me, letting the negative drop from our view. I breathed out, putting my hands on my hips and moving from the wall. I walked a few paces forward, then turned to him, angling my head and waiting for explanation. His eyes snapped to meet mine. "The image should be strong with or without colour. The coffee stains shouldn't matter. I'm still going to fail you on this, because I think that you can give me something so much stronger than this. I know you know what I mean, so I'm not going to try to explain. You're in this class for a reason and I expect you to live up to my criteria. Its not too big of a job, in my opinion."
"Sure feels like it," I muttered, knowing he heard me. I looked away for a few seconds, then looked back at him, almost challenging. He was considering me.
"Do you have any plans tomorrow?" he asked. I felt my eyebrows raise. My heart jumped in my chest, and then set into a rapid beat. Was he... I cleared my throat, blinking. He seemed to get what it sounded like to me, his eyes widening slightly. "I mean, I would like to show you some tricks to getting better photos; give you some pointers."
I bit my lip, looking away from him down the hall. I was actually thinking about going mountain climbing tomorrow.
You see, I have been climbing mountains since I was a young child. My favorite terrain was that of Ochil Hills. Since tomorrow was Saturday, a day off for me, and all my work was either done or close to being done, I figured I could just drive out there with my equipment and spend the day climbing. I had a point in mind I wanted to make it to where I felt I could get some great pictures too. This is why I have such a high quality camera. I loved extreme sorts.
"Um...1 actually do have plans tomorrow, but-"
"What are you doing?" MacNeill interrupted me. I paused, looking at him with slightly raised brows. What the hell did it matter to him? Yet, he continued to look back at me with expecting eyes.
"Mountain climbing. Ochil Hills," I said. This time he looked surprised, his brows shooting up and a bright look flashing across his face. I straightened up at the look, energized by the sudden energy that stretched into a smile across his face.
"You mountain climb? Since when?" he asked, sounding a little excited. I had a feeling that I couldn't place, an intuition about this moment that I didn't quite understand. I felt like there was something I needed to see, to take note of, but I missed it. I nodded, wrinkling my brow a little at him.
"Yeah. Its my favourite sport. I've been climbing since I was about seven or eight," I said, leaning a bit towards him in interest at his interest.
"You're going alone?" he asked. A red flag shot up.
I quickly mentally took a step back, analyzing the situation for a few seconds. I was a college freshman, just having turned eighteen, and this guy was probably twenty-five or something. He was asking to spend both his and my free time with each other so he could give me 'photography tips,' and now he was inquiring about my personal life and if I were going to be alone while out in the middle of nowhere armed with only climbing equipment and a camera. A little more than sketchy, if you ask me. But me being my father's daughter, that being reckless and impulsive, I nodded.
"Yeah, I usually go alone," I explained. I blinked at him, a bit interested myself now, leaning towards him a fraction. "Do you climb?"
"Have since I was a kid... Ochil Hills," he said, a smirk faint on his lips. I felt a smile break across my face and a laugh escape my lips in disbelief. He grinned back.
"No way! How come we've never seen each other?" I asked. He shrugged, smiling.
"We're, what, ten or so years apart. Different ages means different levels of ability," he said. I nodded in understanding, clicking my tongue and looking down. It was kind of awkward again. MacNeill stepped a bit closer. "Do you mind if I join you tomorrow? Its been a while since I've been out there, and it's a huge stress reliever. On top of that I could help you with composition techniques."
I looked up at him, seeing him hopefully smiling at me, question in his eyes. I shrugged, smiling a little, making him smile excitedly. I looked him up and down for a second, trying to get a read on his motive.
"Sure... but it doesn't sound so relaxing when you are going to work," I pointed out. He smiled, shrugging, shuffling a bit, swaying closer to me for a second. "I think ifs going to be more fun than it sounds," he said. I chuckled, widening his smile. "And are you sure we won't start yelling at each other?" I asked. He laughed, quickly containing it and looking around at the door behind him, still closed, the quiet hum of students talking on the other side. I smiled, watching him.
"I'll try not to if you try not to," he said. I nodded, offering him my hand. "Deal," I said. He grinned and took my hand, shaking it. When we let go, I felt as if my skin were prickling. "What do you say... we meet up here around five or so?" he asked. "How about three?" I asked, smiling. He smiled back, nodding. "Okay... yeah. Three tomorrow morning, my classroom. You are dismissed for now, Ms Guascato. Get yourself cleaned up," he said, looking down at my messed up and dirty clothes. I nodded, giggling a little, and gave him a wave as I turned and began walking back to my dorm. I was excited.