Desecrate one little grave, then cram for finals. I didn’t budget time for macho security man, who’s hunting me on his tiptoes to make himself look taller.
“The dead never complain about my service, mister cemetery officer sir,” I yell, squeezing my work bag to my chest.
He’s getting closer. The beam from his flashlight skims across nearby headstones. In a minute, I’ll have company on the dark side of this century-old mausoleum. Time to decide.
A breeze shakes raindrops from the trees and a shiver from my shoulders. My eyes squint to bring the options into focus. It’s choose your own adventure time.
Let’s see. I could have stayed in the dorm and let my boyfriend, um, distract me from studying. Turn to Page 91, shop for maternity clothes during swimsuit season and drop out of college. Too late for that, anyways. Okay, I can stand up, drop my bag, and let shorty over there slap handcuffs on me. Turn to Page 45, jail time, miss my exams, flunk out of college.
Or I can piece together the serrated pole in my work bag, knock this punk out, finish my job, and go study. Turn to next page, keep my job, pass my exams, one day be adored my millions for wit and wisdom. Stay in school, it is.
Twin flashes of lightning send his shadow scurrying across the soggy ground in a strobe effect. Deep breath. Wait for the thunder, wait for the—there! The long, low rumble masks the sound from my bag’s zipper.