Page 2 of Trick Play

My heart rate and patience were returning to normal, and my impulse to kick or scream was dwindling. I wasn’t normally so mean, even in my head, but I was beyond my limit. My last few months of school were supposed to be easy, predictable, and a smooth sail right on to walking onto the stage for my diploma.

But it had been one thing after another lately. My apartment flooded, so I had to move back into student housing. The car I spent two years saving up for sold the month before I was ready to buy it, so much for verbal contracts. Oh and the company I spent the past three summers interning for with the hopes of getting a job offer after graduation was sold and restructured to the point that no one I worked with was still around to vouch for me.

It had been a very bad, no good kind of day … well, month … or two.

Things wouldn’t stay like this forever. That was the one comforting thought keeping me from throwing in the towel and finding a quiet place to cry. All things, good and bad, changed. So at some point, my life would no longer be a series of unfortunate events. I might even look back at this time and laugh.

Maybe in a few years.

“That is done,” she said with a final click. “I apologize that this was a last-minute upset, but at least we were able to find a solution.”

“I really appreciate your help.”

Ms. Olivo smiled and this time I returned it before standing and leaving her oppressive office.

Most of my classes were in this building, now that I was only taking those specific to my major. It was nice not having to run around campus, but drifting through the same halls did make the hours feel long. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I stayed in the same room for four hours straight.

My next class started in ten minutes, so I headed down the stairs and claimed my normal seat at the end of the middle row before pulling out my tablet and phone. I clicked on an email notification from the school and read over the details of the course I added. History of Photography taught by Professor Clements. At least it was someone I knew. He was an older man that wasn’t too strict or hard on grading. He made you work, but it wasn’t impossible to get an A like some professors made their classes.

I didn’t have access to the syllabus yet, but hopefully, it wouldn’t throw off my schedule too much. Thanks to my paid summer internships, I didn’t have to work through the school year, but that didn’t mean I had a ton of free time either. I was already taking six classes, and since they were all upper level, the workload was intense.

Most people didn’t think graphic design was a challenging program, but I had several projects due every week that each required at least two or three hours to complete. Adding in a condensed half-semester course wasn’t exactly the best idea, but I had no other choice. I refused to stay here for another five months for three stupid credits.

Not that I necessarily had a plan post-graduation anymore. I was giving myself until after the Thanksgiving break to start sending out my resume and portfolio.

Another notification appeared at the top of my screen. Lauren, my roommate and best friend, texted me.

Lauren: What do you think?

I clicked on the listing of a two-bedroom apartment in downtown Pittsburgh. It was fine. The price was within the budget we set. Plus, it was in a good location, and it checked off of the most crucial must-haves of in-unit laundry and at least one dedicated parking space.

Kennedy: Looks good

I didn’t know how to tell her Pittsburgh wasn’t far enough away for me. I wanted to get away from West Penn University, and twenty minutes wasn’t what I had in mind.

But I was trying to compromise. She and I had planned out our futures back at the beginning of our sophomore year. We’d been a random pairing in the dorms when we were freshmen and instantly clicked. She was the best friend I’d ever had, and I loved her like the sister I always wanted.

Which was why I was trying to keep an open mind.

Since she majored in health administration, we could both work pretty much anywhere. Another reason for getting as far away as possible. I wanted to get out and see more of the world. Experience someplace new. We didn’t have to go somewhere like New York or Los Angeles. I was perfectly fine with a more affordable area, but couldn’t we at least go to the other side of the state?

“Good afternoon, class. How is everyone doing?” Professor Mackey strolled into class and set her bag down on the front table before pulling out her laptop and connecting it to the projector.

“Good,” a few voices called back.

She smiled, not looking up as she logged in and pulled up a presentation. “We have an exciting project this week.”

As much as I liked her as a teacher, I’d learned last year not to trust her when she said things like that. One ‘exciting project’ had been a month-long programming nightmare that took years off my life.

“You have the opportunity for the entire campus to see your work.” She took a step back and swept her eyes over the room.

I crossed my arms and sank into my chair. This wasn’t good. It usually meant we were providing free labor to the school. Actually, we were paying them and giving them free labor.

“What is it this time?” Dustin, a fellow senior, called.

Mackey’s facade cracked, and she bit her lip at his sour tone. “The athletic department is looking to refresh some of the banners.”

“So why doesn’t the school hire a professional agency?” Dustin asked.