The Messy Months [EDITING]

August - 2

A scream woke Marcy up, just as it did every morning. Though she felt the fear and couldn't quite wrap her brain around why she still felt it, she relaxed back into bed, knowing that her dreams were over with for the time being.

Now it was time to face the day.

She dressed automatically, realizing as she picked through her small closet, that she was on her last clean pair of pants, and she was almost out of sweatshirts. She'd have to do laundry soon.

She threw everything into a basket, picked up her bag and stopped herself on her ratty old welcome mat, before the front door. She stared at the doorknob and at the bag on her arm and wondered just briefly what she was doing.

"No, no...," she whispered, gearing herself up for another day. "Don't think. Just do."

She left the apartment, locking the door behind her and turning to stop right before the stout Ms. Miriam.

"Why, hello—"

"Were you listening to Metallica?" the old woman huffed, hands set on her hips. Her thin bottom lip was pushed out so the hairy mole on her chin was almost covered.

Marcy gauged the woman's expression and decided to proceed with caution. "Um, yesterday, yes... Why?"

"Because I like them," Miriam said, straightening up. "Play them more often, will yah?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure..." Marcy's right foot shifted without warning, her skin tingling with warning signs. Her head was screaming "run, she's a mad woman!" but the politeness that her parents had ingrained in her glued her to the spot.

"You going to class?" the woman asked, her eyes flickering down to Marcy's twitching toes.

Marcy forced her body to stop fidgeting. "Yes, ma'am."

Ms. Miriam stepped to the side with what seemed to be a smile on her face. "Have fun, dear." Marcy nodded, her legs moving quicker than her subconscious wanted. "And don't forget, Metallica!"

Marcy continued nodding, even when she knew she was out of sight. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, stopping the light flow of human traffic. A mother pushing her stroller almost ran over Marcy's feet and a lanky boy with freckled skin and a hunched back shuffled past, muttering something cruel under his breath. But all Marcy could do was laugh.

First it was boys indirectly taking her out to coffee and now it was older ladies who liked heavy metal. What was next?

Lo and behold, ten minutes later, in Marcy's first class of the day, she ran into Trym. She literally ran right into him. As she muttered an apology he smiled at her in a way that can only be described as prince charming giving out facially expressed sympathy to a hand maid. The thought made Marcy turn around and try to blink the image of Trym in dashing trousers out of her mind. She needed to focus.

Of course, when she sat down, her eyes automatically lifted to watch Trym plunk down in the seat beside her. There must've been an appalled expression on her face because he looked her over once before whispers, "What? Is this seat taken?"

Marcy closed her mouth and shook her head.

His stupid sympathetic smile came back. "Lovely."

Marcy thought that for the rest of the class, she'd had to deal with him leaning over or feel self-conscious about how she wrote her notes. But every time she managed to gather the confidence to glance at him, he'd be staring straight ahead at the professor wildly giving her lecture. And though she felt the need to keep checking, this did stem her anxiety levels down a bit.