Not on Purpose

-First

-Leah

"Maybe." I walked the halls of the college with confidence, ready for anything. Four more years of school, and I would be done with education. Finally.

"Here, let me carry that," Mom grabbed for my laundry basket, but I danced out of her reach, much to her annoyance. "Come on, you can't take on the world by yourself, Leah."

"It's a laundry basket, not the world, Mom," I joked. She finally cracked a smile.

"Yo, Leah!" Kanesha hobbled up to me, carrying her own burden of personal items.

"Hey, girl wassup?" I gave her a high-five as best as I could with so much stuff in my arms. Mom kept me from toppling over.

"You know we roommates?" She led me to our room, my mother taking up the rear, ready to catch any dropped belongings.

"Yeah! Room 2-B if I remember right," I unlocked the door to said dorm room and we plopped our stuff on the beds. A loud vent stuck awkwardly out the window and covered the foot of my bed. "Aww, man! Why do I get the dud?" I pouted as Kanesha already began unpacking her loads of clothing into the dresser her dad had brought over a few days ago.

Mom finally caught up with us, "My God, slow down, girl! You're legs are gonna fall of some day." She never was very good with her wits, but still.

"It's called exercise, Mom," I chided. "You should try it sometime." Her face went red, and I put up my hands in surrender, "Joking!"

"I'll show you a joke," she mumbled as I pulled her into a hug. It was a bit awkward hugging her, since she was so short that her face always ended up against my stomach, but I was fine. The only thing I had to watch out for was lipstick smears on my shirts.

"I'll be fine, Mom," I answered before she could ask as I pulled away. "Call you every day, come home every weekend. Just remember to send me a care package." She smiled, and I couldn't help but to hug her again.

"I know you're not leaving forever, but I just can't help it." I sensed she was about to sob, and pulled away again. This was one of my favourite shirts.

"Time to go," I pushed her lightly out the door as she produced a handkerchief from her pocket.

"Aww . . ." Kanesha sniffed, fake crying as I clicked the door shut.

"Oh, stop that," I threw a towel at her, and she responded with a pair of jeans. I squeaked and threw my pillow, dodging a flip-flop. It hit the wall dangerously close to the window and we dropped our weapons, surrendering.

A knock on the door made me jump, "Girls? We need you in the cafeteria for the opening ceremony, if you don't mind."

"M'kay," we said at the same time as the feet shuffled away from our door.

The ceremony wasn't much fun. The dean stood on a center stage, droning on about the beautiful campus and wonderful opportunities. Yeah, it was all true, but I had read it all on the website before applying.

It was a while until I could slip away. While everyone was heading back to their dorms for a long rest before classes started tomorrow, I told Kanesha I needed to go to the bathroom, and slid into the stairwell. My older sister had gone to this college before me and knew all of the great places to space out when you just needed a second to be alone. Roommates, no matter how friendly, could be a bit suffocating in the small dorms, she had said. One weekend, I had visited her for a shadowing thing, like a tour of the place. She showed me nooks and crannies where nobody could ever find you. This place didn't have many security cameras either, so privacy was pretty much guaranteed.

I stepped lightly up the stairs, heading for the roof. There's a little chunk of vent, she had said, that is always running, a comfortable temperature for sitting. She said if you sat on it, you could see past the tall pines and to the rolling foothills of the Rockies beyond. I found the metal vent and touched it with my hand; just as warm as she had described. I sat down, and found myself surprisingly close to the edge of the building. If I stood up, and fell forward a bit, I would go toppling over the edge.

"Don't act so calm." A voice behind me made me jump. I recognized it.

Without turning around, I said, "I don't have it, if that's why you're here. I'm retiring from this business."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," I heard the footsteps come closer, and the man touched my hair. "'Retiring' isn't the word I would use for this. You've got too much information in this brain of yours. Now, where is the file?"

"Nowhere you can get it."

 He laughed mirthlessly, "A grave mistake, my darling. See you around." I felt his grip on my hair tighten, and my stomach clenched. I knew what was next.

"No -- don't --!" but it was too late. He pushed me roughly forward, and I could see the parking lot, coming ever closer. I screamed my lungs out, knowing it was futile anyway. My time was up. Only one real thought passed through my head as it hit concrete.

Goodbye, Tara.