My Bad Boy

Chapter nine

The minute I walk out of the university doors and into the windy air; my scarf goes flying.

Usually I would have tied the damn thing in front of me in some kind of knot. But, no. I was so busy trying to finish my assignment with my professor hovering over me, his eyes plainly telling me it was time to go, that I just threw it over my shoulders and walked out.

Now I was watching my tan scarf runaway from me in the wind. If I wasn’t so aggravated at the moment, I would have probably of laughed at my dose of bad luck. It seemed to follow me around a lot lately.

On normal days, it didn’t get this windy in Michigan. Wait, let me rephrase that. It did get windy, but lately it was getting a little too ridiculous.

And for someone who loves fall, that was a big stretch to take.

I stand there and watch as my scarf tumbles over grass and broken leaves, veering left and heading to the double doors on the other side of the University. It was like the damn thing was on a mission to get so far away from me that I wouldn’t be able to catch it.

Sighing, I push the hair that was blowing in my face out of my mouth, aggravated. There was no point in just standing here and watching it fly away. I quickly shoulder my book bag that was in my left hand and go chasing after my scarf.

I probably looked like a lunatic.

But really? What else is new.

Half way across the courtyard, a group of guys shot me these odd looks, but most of them were too busy in their own groups that they didn’t even notice the crazy girl running by them.

Oh, just in case you forgot along the way, that crazy girl would be me.

I stop for a minute to catch my breath and I see the scarf glide against the sudden current again and watch as it heads toward the tree in the middle of the courtyard. I just stand there and curse under my breath.

Are you freaking kidding me?

It just had to head toward the only tree in the whole place? !

I’ll admit, I’m not really an athletic person and too see my scarf make it halfway across campus with me trudging like a snail behind it kind of sucks. Unlike Kayla, who probably would have had the scarf in a matter of seconds, it would take me around an hour to even retrieve it.

I shake head and the movement just gets more hair caught in my face. If I didn’t love it so much, I would just cut it. But since I wasn’t already moving, I decide to just throw it up.  That way I didn’t have to deal with it any longer.

I look longingly at my scarf that seemed to be stuck on a tree branch and try to get my hair up fast enough before someone tried to steal it. Sure, it didn’t cost me a lot nor was it custom made, but I mean…it was my scarf.

Motivation to not let anyone steal it makes me walk while I try to put my hair up. Without looking I slide the hairband off my wrist and hold my hair with my right hand at the back of my head. I try my hardest to stretch the thin thing around the straight bits, making sure I got every strand.

Don’t ask me how, but someway, somehow, I end up stretching the hairband too far and I hear a snap next to my ear followed by the sting of the hairband snapping back and nicking my palm; stinging it.

I still hold my hair up with one hand and  look down at the broken hairband in my hand for about five seconds, groan, stop, throw it on the ground, and bring my head back and look at the sky.

“Oh come on!” I shout, one hand still on my head like an idiot.

It’s like the world is playing an April Fools joke on me in the middle of October.