Starting Position

Chapter 23

The due date for the February Formal article was rapidly approaching. In total, the article was supposed to be one thousand words and include three pictures. Ordinarily, something similar would have taken me no longer than two days to complete; however I found myself staring at blank word document, the cursor flashing tauntingly, while I tried to summon a story. It took three solid days of sitting behind my computer before I managed to write some boring explanation of the dance, including the general atmosphere, the horrid decorations, and the over-played and ear-pounding music.

Reading through the completed article and attached pictures, a few showcasing the decorations and dance floor, I sighed. In all honesty, it was about as good as I could have hoped for, considering the avenues in which to make a community college dance interesting were few and far between.

Still, I felt a hole in my heart; something was missing. It was as though my subconscious knew there was another article about the dance that needed to be written, but my mind couldn't quite catch it.

Leaning back in my chair, I brought my hands up to my eyes, blocking the light from the computer screen. The clock on my desk read it was nearing on eleven, yet I felt wide awake. Even if I wanted to sleep, I wouldn't be able to, and I would just end up lying in bed thinking about the article.

Ben flashed through my mind. I was surprised how vividly I recalled him, greeting me in the library with a warm smile, his hair and eyes glinting golden in the sunlight. I then thought of his hair glowing pink in the lights of the dance, and how we watched the two professors flirt, how he smiled when he spoke of the chemistry experience.

Just then, an idea of what I really wanted write about came together in my mind with such clarity that I jolted upright, shuddering my chair along the floor. The story had been within me all along. I knew how I was going to write the article about the February Formal.

***

Sunlight was flooding inside the windows of the main hallway again, and everyone seemed accustomed to the warmer days. While springtime normally featured a few scattered rain showers, students on campus were taking the sunshine in strides, wearing clothes that would make even the summer season blush.

I was on my way to American Lit. Before I took a detour for a latte from the café, I noticed Cambrie. Her shiny black hair was pulled into a high ponytail and her skin was as radiant as ever. She, too, had lost her winter jacket and was clad in jean shorts, flowy top, and sneakers. Her back was up against the wall, along with one foot, and she wasn't alone. Standing next to her, his side against the wall, was a guy with curly black hair and square features, an easy smile on his smooth face.

Suddenly, the barista called my name and broke my attention.

"Thanks," I said, and took the coffee quickly, setting my sights back on Cambrie and the mystery man.

He had leaned very close Cambrie, as if whispering something inappropriate in her ear. Right on cue, Cambrie giggled and touched his shoulder which caused him to lean further towards her and continue whispering.

The scene didn't surprise me. We had known each other for over a decade, and the many men that sifted in and out of her life were of little significance to me. Each of them was fleeting, and it was easy to ignore their presence, as sooner or later - usually sooner - they were cut loose.

Then I noticed Jake passing them. He made no attempt to conceal his emotions. I saw him briefly freeze before her, his features twisted in contempt and suffering. Time seemed to freeze, both Cambrie and Jake at a standstill. Cambrie broke away first, slapping a fake smile back on her face.

Jake, on the other hand, remained glued to her for a bit longer, as if waiting for her to break character and join him where she belonged. His disbelief at her behavior made me hurt for him more keenly.