Day 6. AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH…………. Why do I keep doing this to myself?? I skipped ONE DAY of writing, just ONE, and today I’m paying for it. I am sitting here and I have NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT CAPS. (HEY! THIS IS FUN! I DON’T GET TO TYPE IN CAPS VERY OFTEN. THERE’S NOTHING LIKE PROCRASTINATING IN CAPS.)
My eyes hurt. That’s enough of that. Bear with me, I’m just going follow my stream of consciousness and write whatever. Here goes:
“Oh. My. God.” Mandy stopped eating mid-sentence. Her bright red lips parted slightly. She breathed deeply and exhaled a theatrical sigh. “He is so hot.”
“Who?” I asked, turning my head to look at the person who had her attention. I loved Mandy, but she had terrible taste in men. Since I only had thirty minutes between classes, I didn’t feel like wasting a moment on some loser. There was no way I was going to miss an opportunity to eat before my three hour strategy class.
“Stop that,” Mandy hissed at me, smacking my arm. “I don’t want him to know that we’re…..” She paused.
“We’re what? Staring at him? Gaping at him? Stalking him?” I suggested, and shoveled a forkful of chicken-broccoli bake into my mouth. I closed my eyes, enjoying the flavors. Even cafeteria food tasted good after skipping breakfast. “Pick one. Any of them applies in this situation.”
Mandy glared at me. Tossing her long blond hair, she pouted and pulled a compact and tube of lipstick from her purse. “I am NOT stalking him.”
“Yet,” I added, taking a swig of root beer. Mandy applied more red lipstick to her already very red lips. I shook my head in disgust. “You aren’t stalking him YET.”
“When have I ever stalked anyone, Cassie?” She replied, smacking her lips together before closing her compact. She picked up a napkin and blotted her lipstick.
I rolled my eyes, stood up, and picked up my tray. “I have to go. If you really want to know that answer to that question, call me tonight. I’ll have more time.”
“Wait,” Mandy said, sliding out of the booth. She picked up her tray. “I’ll go with you.”
“Where are you going?” I asked impatiently, gesturing towards her plate. Mandy had another half an hour before her class started. “Your tray is still full. You haven’t eaten anything.”
“Oh, I can’t eat while he’s watching me,” Mandy replied, looking past me, over my shoulder. She smiled and nodded to someone. “And he is definitely watching me.”
“Who is watching you?” I asked before turning to walk towards the exit. It was the beginning of a new semester. I was looking forward to my first strategy class in the MBA program, but I felt a little stressed out. A few friends had warned me about Professor Douglas. He was supposedly good, but liked to make an example of one unprepared student for an entire semester. The student was chosen on the first day of class. I picked up the pace. I didn’t want to be the chosen one.
“That guy,” she tilted her head.
I turned around and saw the back of some tall guy walking away. Unimpressed, I shrugged. “Sorry, no guy has ever had enough power to curb my appetite. Especially before class.”
Well, almost no guy, I thought grimly, as Mandy and I hurried across campus. My father always made me lose my appetite.
A Writing Mama's Journal 