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As I flung open the heavy door that was the entrance to the residence hall that Kristi and I lived in, I was met with a breeze that was like a soft kiss on my cheeks. Late autumn here in California was a beautiful balance between warm sunshine and cool breezes, which was a welcome change from the wet and chilly weather that I was used to experiencing when I was growing up in the Midwest. I adjusted the straps of my bag and headed down the path that lead to the library. There was a coffee shop along the way that I didn’t have a choice but to stop at. Caffeine was a necessity at this point in my college career.
While trudging along under the weight of my bulging bag, I felt an odd twinge in the back of my neck. It was early in the morning for a Saturday, so there weren’t as many people walking around as there usually were during the week, but there were enough students milling about that someone could get by with watching another person and not be caught. And that is exactly how I felt; as if I were being watched. I scanned my surroundings and didn’t notice anything too out of the ordinary. But the sensation was even more bothersome, as it had been persisting for the last three months.
Pretty soon, though, the unsettling feeling dissipated as my mind began to wander. Ever since I was a child my parents always had to try and reign in my active imagination. It wasn’t that they discouraged creativity and daydreaming, it was just that sometimes my thoughts ran a bit too wild. My parents sometimes thought that I truly believed that the stories that I created were real. I knew that they weren’t, but I have always enjoyed fiction more than reality, so I prefered to surround myself with my imaginary friends and the tales that I had either read or spun myself. To this day I still find myself toying with the art of daydreaming. As I gazed at the trees that bordered the path, I fancied the idea of dainty, sparkling fairies peeking out amongst the leaves. They were preparing for war with the Stone Dwellers who could be found in their cities built deep within the cracks of the sidewalk. For ages the two peoples have been adversaries. Most don’t even remember why, but the elders of both kingdoms could sometimes be heard reciting the tale of the First Battle, which was waged because of an ugly divorce between a fairy and Stone Dweller couple. Since then, the two peoples have been mortal enemies. If you listened close enough, you could hear the catapults being erected by the Stone Dwellers, or even the whistle of a miniscule arrow as the fairies held target practice in preparation of the upcoming battle.
The fantasy that skipped through my head was soon halted as I opened the door to the coffee shop and had to scan the menu to figure out what I wanted to order. It didn’t take long to decide on the same thing that I always bought: a caramel macchiato and an apple cinnamon muffin. As I waited behind the only other person in line, I glanced around the seating area. There were only three other people occupying the familiar, over-stuffed, plush crimson couches and low, round tables with their mismatched, colorful armchairs. They were students, all three with heavy-lidded eyes as they cradled their drinks and poured over open textbooks. I couldn’t see how the soft, warm lighting of the shop would help ease their exhaustion, as I covered a yawn of my own.
“What’ll it be, miss?” said a voice at the counter, and I turned around from my scan of the store to place my order. I was met with a pair of forest green eyes that held a sweet smile in them. The man waiting to take my order was quite attractive. He had a nice California tan, and the type of hairstyle that you could only classify as “surfer hair”. I had seen him working here before, but he had always been making drinks, not taking orders.
I averted my eyes from his and quickly blurted out my order. As I payed the man said, “By the way, I really like your shirt. Space cats are pretty cool.”
I swelled up with pride at my choice of clothing today as I thanked him. I mentally made a note to rub it in Kristi’s face when I returned to the dorm. As I turned around to stand by the counter where they handed out the drinks, out the window I saw a small face surrounded by wild, curly pink hair quickly duck down and out of sight.
I didn’t see anyone else outside near the window. I frowned, wondering what a child would be doing by herself on a college campus. Whatever. She had probably wandered off, and whoever she was visiting couldn’t be far behind. Nonetheless, the uncomfortable feeling of being followed started to creep into my bones again. But she couldn’t be the one that’s been causing that feeling if she’s just visiting family. It was still strange, though. Regardless, she looked harmless enough. Well, at least the top of her head did, anyway. Maybe she had a third arm that had a mind of its own and went around strangling people. I smiled at the ridiculous thought.
I turned back towards the counter. I snuck a glance at the man who took my order, and as I did he looked at me, flashing me a smile that made my heart melt. I blushed and looked away, pretending to be suddenly enthralled by an outdated advertisement of a local band that had played on campus last week.
Just then my name was called, letting me know that my order was finished. I quickly snatched my cup and the small bag with my muffin and pushed through the door and back out into the sunshine. I looked over by the window where the little girl was, but all I saw was a swirl of pink curls and striped tights round the corner. Must have found her parents, I thought to myself as I took a sip of my scalding coffee and headed to the library.
Once at the library, I immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. It was about ten degrees too cold amongst the maze of bookshelves, but luckily the librarians hated the cold too, because there was always a stack of wool blankets at the front desk. After checking one out and finding a secluded table to claim as my own, I wrapped myself up like a human burrito and pulled out my iPod. It’s impossible for me to study without some sort of music. I flipped through my ever-growing library of music, finally settling on a playlist of The Paper Kites and Mumford and Sons. Taking a sip of my now slightly less boiling coffee and a bite of my muffin, I got to work.
After about two and a half hours of drawing out mechanisms and distinguishing between electrophiles and nucleophiles, I heaved a sigh and leaned back in my chair. I rolled my head from shoulder to shoulder, trying to work out the kinks in my neck. My foot had fallen asleep, so as I stretched out my leg and shook my foot to try and get the blood flowing again, I absentmindedly gazed down a line of shelves, pondering the idea of dust bunnies being actual, live bunnies. Just then, I spied a wisp of pink hiding behind the end of a bookcase. Leaving my books where they were, I got up and decided to investigate.
My foot was still painfully tingly, so I not-so-stealthily hobbled along down the row of books. I glanced at a couple of titles and recognized that I was in the fantasy section of the library. I smiled, comforted by the genre. I didn’t realize that I was on edge until seeing the titles caused me to relax my clenched fists. Something about this kid set me on high-alert. When I got about halfway down the aisle, I suddenly saw a pair of brilliantly blue eyes peek around the corner, and then disappear just as quickly with a gasp.
“Hey!” I called out, a bit too gruffly. My mom has always told me I need to work on my behavior around kids. She used to say I wasn’t gentle enough. It wasn’t my fault little kids gave me the creeps. Especially this one.
Now my foot was back to normal, so I jogged the rest of the way down the aisle, but when I turned the corner, no one was there. I checked the neighboring aisles, but all I found were a couple of students browsing the shelves. They gave me funny looks and told me I should keep a better eye on my little sister when I asked if they saw a little girl with pink hair run by a minute ago. I tried telling them that I didn’t know the girl, but then I realized that may make me sound like a pedophile if I’m looking for a little girl that I don’t know, so I stopped myself and went back to my table where my books were at.
When I got there, I noticed that the half-uneaten muffin that I had sitting by my coffee cup was gone. But when I sat down, I found two undeniably pink hairs laying on my open book. That little shit.
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