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The College Years (Chapter 13)
By Vader
THE COLLEGE YEARS
Entry II: A Student Who Loved Me
Continued from Chapter 12 . . .
CHAPTER 13
You . . .
You . . .
You . . . are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That’s pulling at my skin
You . . . leave me when I’m at my worst
Feeling as if I’ve been cursed
Bitter cold within
Days go by and still I think of you
Days when I could have lived my life without you
Without you . . .
I was too amazed and starry-eyed by my first visit to a club to take notice that the haunting lyrics to a pulsing beat which blasted forth from the D.J. strangely formatted to my recent passions about Rachel. Anywhere I looked were neon lights, probing laser beams, and dancing students. Everything was moving to a beat, so alive and throbbing, that I felt like I’d been immediately uplifted from my troubles, all my worries floating away like leaves from a tree. The look on my face must have been priceless, considering I’d come in with a guy carrying an expression like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.
“What’s the deal with the bike, dude?” Luke asked, recalling the transportation I’d used to arrive. I shook myself out of my unusual daze, trying to appear more like my accomplice.
“My car was . . . hit . . . in the bumper,” I stuttered quizzically, clearing my throat directly afterward in an effort to recover from sounding like a liar. “It needed some work done,” I continued more smoothly and casually. He just raised his eyebrows and nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets and glancing to the left.
“Want to get a drink?” he offered. I agreed, and the both of us strolled through the dancing ocean of people. I couldn’t help examining every single thing around me, then realizing I must’ve looked like the tourists do when they’re visiting San Diego for the first time. Just when I promptly stopped my gawking, the bar where drinks were served seemed to materialize out of the scenario like it were a mirage.
“Two Jungle Mixes,” Luke ordered, resting his elbow on the counter and turning to survey the scene while waiting.
“What’s a Jungle Mix?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest.
“Ah, it’s like a margarita with a little more . . . ‘kick’ I should say,” he replied with a smirk. I gulped.
“Listen . . .” I searched for the words as my heart throbbed at the possibility of drinking under-age. Peer pressure, while powerful, had not yet gained enough force to overcome my objectiveness to this act, which my father had instilled in me years earlier. “I’m not really in the mood for liquor tonight. Is there anything without alcohol?”
“First, you forget your I.D. and have to use your Mesa College identity card at the entrance, and now this?” Luke chuckled. Little did he know that my ‘forgetfulness’ was really a scheme that luckily worked. “What’s up with you tonight?”
“What’s up is that I’m not in the mood to be criticized by you, like I was at lunch today,” I firmly shot back. “Order me something without alcohol!”
“Alright,” my classmate sighed, resorting to doing as I said. “Get him a Crango instead,” he told the sleazy-looking bartender, who followed suit in the change of order once he handed Luke his beverage. Following a sip of the drink, my acquaintance turned to face me once more.
“Hey, I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You know – about your girlfriend. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he apologized while shrugging. Just when I got my mind off it, he had to bring it back up, making me feel like crushing my head to stop this never-ending torture.
“You damn well should be sorry,” I quipped, anger bubbling within once more. “You don’t know a thing about us.”
“The only reason I said it is because . . .” he squinted, thinking of a way to put it.
“Well?!” I impatiently snapped.
“You’re my friend. And I don’t want to see you . . . you know, blindly try and win some girl’s affection when you’re missing out on so many other fish in the sea,” the young man finished, moving closer to emphasize his point. “Jack, up at Mesa, there’s so many women . . . so many. You could find a real lover up there, or even in here. But instead, you just try and convince yourself that someone loves you when they’ve never even said-”
“Just shut up!” I demanded, pounding on the counter, feeling like I was on the verge of a meltdown. “Shut the hell up, Luke. I don’t want to hear it,” I commanded once more, my voice breaking.
“Okay, okay,” he nodded before taking another sip. “But I’m sorry . . . really.” The apology didn’t do a thing to make me feel any better. I was still unable to bear even a slight consideration of Rachel not loving me, and was aware of my failure in not letting such a thought affect my viewpoint on our relationship. I let out a ghastly exhale, turning and vigorously rubbing my face. I shook my head in denial, slamming my eyelids shut and gritting my teeth.
“Your drink, sir” the bartender sat it next to me, which I quickly downed to place an order for another. As I sat there, letting the intoxicating flow of music gyrate through my ears, I began to gradually calm down, venting inside my head. I told myself that I couldn’t keep on doubting the person I cared so much about. And when searching for a way out of the slump, I decided I would prove that Rachel loved me once and for all. I would prove it by asking her out. For the first time, I’d get her a gift and ask her out. I convinced myself that there would be no doubt about it after that, Luke would never bother me about it again, and I would never have to wrestle with my emotions anymore.
Settling on this, I breathed outward and forced myself into a more upbeat attitude, turning to look around me at all the other students that bounced around the turntable, having records spinning blazingly atop it by the talented D.J. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an individual in slacks and a loud button-down shirt. The most obvious feature was the black, velvet fedora sitting on his head, but almost as blatant was an arrogant expression on his face. Amused by such a cartoon-ish character, I craned my neck around to see that he’d been eyeing an attractive blonde that was sitting about four seats away from me, sipping a pink beverage with her wallet sitting on the counter. At first glance, it appeared that he wanted the girl, but at second, it became completely obvious what he really desired.
The man slithered up next to her, leaning sideways, and with a quick snap he propelled himself forwards. “Look out!” I shouted in her direction, coming to the realization afterwards that I was too late. He snagged her wallet with one hand, and shoved her off the seat with another, twisting his body around to sprint towards the exit as those in the immediate area gasped. After suffering a second of after-shock, I knelt down, taking the young woman by her shoulder to help get her back up.
“Are you alright?” I asked, about as rattled as she was.
“Yeah,” she huffed, rubbing her arm and evoking pity. “But there was hundreds of dollars in there!” And when hearing that, on the spur of the moment, without thinking about the consequences, I did the most impetuous thing I’d ever done. I looked towards the doorway to see the delinquent rapidly get away, and started forward.
“What are you doing?” Luke exclaimed.
“Just stay with the girl,” the return came.
I hastily took off, plunging into a crowd of people and diving out of it to reach the city streets outside. I halted, looking in all directions to spot which way the trouble maker was heading and pinpointed him a block away, shoving through pedestrians. Caught up in the thrill of the chase, I dashed around the corner to leap upon my mountain bike, hurrying to unlock it from the parking meter. My vehicle sped away, swerving through the street and catching up to the prey ahead of me. As the gap between us grew tinier and tinier, I extended my hand out towards him, preparing to grab his arm and take the wallet right out of his hand.
Just then, the man in the fedora switched directions to run into the next block over, reaching the entrance of Horton Plaza mall. Swearing under my breath at the missed opportunity, I directed my bike in pursuit, threading the needle in between several cars that honked wildly at me. The both of us entered the shopping mall, neck in neck, snapping our heads back and forth between looking at each other and watching where we were going, both desperately moving as fast as possible.
My quarry jumped at a nearby flight of steps, sprinting upwards to get lost in the spirals of walkways and shops that entangled one another. Realizing that a bike would be no use in trying to catch the thief, I hurriedly abandoned it at the bottom of the stairway, propelling myself into the bustling center and becoming immersed in the throngs of people that surrounded me. Once again, I’d lost sight of my objective, and whipped my head left and right to catch sight of the distinctive black fedora. In a few seconds, I held him in view at the opposite end of the walkway as he delved into the wallet to count its possessions.
Reinvigorated, I moved across, and when getting close enough, made the leap for him. He was too quick, and sprung to avoid my fall, turning and bounding up a ramp that led to the top floor of the four-story-tall plaza. Having landed on the cement, the wind was knocked out of me, and it took a moment to get on my feet once more. I stumbled forward with a sprained ankle, clinging to the wall beside me until I caught my breath again. Hobbling forward without bothering to pace myself, I reached the floor above me, close behind the hoodlum.
He raced onward, panting heavily, scampering down another spiral of stairs that reached the streets below. I discerned that I was becoming tired and winded, and couldn’t keep the pursuit going on much longer, my foot aching and my lungs gasping for air. If I didn’t do something quick and drastic, I knew he would get away, which led me to lean over the side of a rail that lined the steps and throw myself down the center of curlicue. As I fell, I saw the stairs whisk upwards on the side of me, the wind rushing against my skin and hair until I slammed to a landing at the bottom, loosing my balance but recovering quickly.
Just when stealer reached the street, I leapt forward, tripping him and causing both of us to crash on the ground. I scuffled for the wallet, snatching it from his hand, and thrusting him away to roll across the pavement. I stuffed it into my jacket as the man escaped into the darkness of a nearby alley. Immensely tired and achy, I abandoned any further tailing. Now that it was over, I began to feel foolish for taking off from the club so suddenly without even considering whether or not the man was dangerous, or had a weapon. I could have gotten into some serious trouble, and when thinking of that, I decided that I’d had enough of a night out on the town. It was time to head back to the club, return the stolen property, and then get home before my sneaking-out was discovered.
(More to come)
1/13/2003 10:53:43 PM
(Updated: 1/14/2003 12:41:57 AM)
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