Stray

You'll gain great satisfaction from helping someone today. Keep your eyes open for new opportunities.

That's what my Yahoo daily horoscope told me for today, October 23, 2011. Unfortunately, it would end up being another statement of bull. Oh, don't get me wrong; I did help someone today. Maybe it was right in that aspect, but by no means did it gain me “great satisfaction.” In fact, I wanted to go right over to the Yahoo headquarters, find the schmuck that wrote that stupid horoscope and shove his computer up his— I stopped myself since using such vulgar language would have been below me, but the mental image of a frail, pasty-white, nerdy guy screaming in agony just made me smile.

Unfortunately, not even my superior wit could erase the fact that I was an idiot. Okay, let's just forget about that pretty row of A's on my report cards. They meant nothing. Nothing!

I tried to tell myself that this was the doing of the gods, that Jupiter was aligned with its moon or something. At least then it wouldn't have been all my fault.

Oh, why in the world was I stupid enough to look over at that mutt?

The wind blew hard, swooshing around my ears with a piercing wail, but not even the chill could dampen my mood now. It still hadn't hit me that I was walking through Yale University right now. This place was like a dream come true to a fairytale fanatic like me. The regal stone buildings were like castles, complete with spiraling towers and arched windows. The cafeteria looked like something out of Hogwarts, warm, golden light filling the enormous, wood-and-marble room. I found myself humming the Harry Potter theme as I walked through it, listening to the hustle and bustle of the students grabbing a late lunch.

I wanted to go here next year. No if's or but's. There was no doubt in my mind that I would love it, and just think about the doors that would open to me in my professional career if I had Yale University on my transcript. This place was perfect. The campus was beautiful, the professors were world-class researchers, the students were all so friendly and happy looking—

As the upperclassman guiding our group turned down a different path, I heard a dog barking to my right. I turned to look—hands down the stupidest thing I'd ever done.

First, all I saw were the trees, the leaves burning hues of bright red and orange as they lost all their chlorophyl. They fell gently to the ground, the breeze blowing them around in circles as they made their descent. A little past them was the dog, a tiny mutt sniffing around in the dark recess between two buildings. Normally, I wouldn't have paid this scene a second glance, but something else moved in the alleyway and caught my attention. A hand came out from the shadows, petting the mutt. I squinted and made out a young man sitting there on the concrete.

The tour guide said something, but I wasn't paying attention to her anymore. Something about that guy intrigued me. A backpack sat on the ground next to him, so I assumed he was a student, but what was he doing in the alley all by himself? Kind of shady if you asked me. . . .

We walked closer to the man and the dog, and now I had a better look. The dog started barking non-stop—this obnoxious, high-pitched yapping that would make even the most avid dog fanatics want to break its neck—at the man. I stopped and gaped when I saw what the guy held in his hand.

I fell behind the group and they walked off, oblivious to the fact that I had been left behind. The wind started blowing, nipping me straight through my jacket. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, and all I could think about was how something like this could happen. What could drive a person to do such a thing?

The man seemed to finally notice me standing there and goggling at him, and he cocked an eyebrow in surprise. I took a sharp intake of breath. Black hair; solid build; wearing a hoodie, jeans, and Nikes—he would have looked like any old college student.

Except for the gun in his hand.

The right edge of his lips tugged upwards in a crooked smirk at me as he raised the weapon to his head. My eyes widened. He stopped rubbing the dog's chest and brought his index finger to his lips, a silent gesture at me to be quiet. I started shaking my head “no,” unable to find my voice to scream out.

He was about to kill himself, and I was going to watch.

The man clicked off the safety, a sharp sound that cut through the air. N-No. . . . He couldn't do this—

The finger on the trigger twitched.

I closed my eyes, trying to brace myself for the deafening bang. But rather than a gunshot, I heard his voice.

“Shit!” he swore, a clattering noise signaling that he'd dropped the gun. I whipped my eyes open and saw the mutt sinking its teeth into the man's hand. It released him after a moment, growling and barking like crazy.

Before anyone knew what happened, the dog picked up the gun in its mouth and made a run for it. It shot out of the alley and ran around the building like a speeding bullet. Superman would have been proud. The man scrambled to his feet and tried to chase after it, but I had regained control of my body again, and I stood before him, holding my arms out wide to block his path. He looked down at me, glaring.

“Move,” he ordered, ice in his voice. I shook my head.

“Not so you can die.”

Now he really sized me up in a way that made me fear that he was actually considering how hard it would be to take me out. Seeing as he stood a full head taller than me and looked like he worked out on a regular basis, the odds did not point in my favor. I had to talk my way out of this one.

“Suicide is never the answer—” I began, but he cut me off.

“Don't give me that shit,” he said, gazing off in the direction the mutt had ran off, but it was long gone. The man looked like he was about to hit something. He was absolutely livid. Oh, I hope he didn't think I made a worthy punching bag. I started spewing out words without thinking, blanking out on every lighthearted joke I had learned from late nights watching Dane Cook. Guess I had no future as a stand up comedian.

“I-I know that if you do it, you're going to hurt everyone that cares about you—”

“No one cares about me!” he snapped, cutting me off a second time. “My family's either dead, useless, or rotting in jail, and my 'friends' tried to kill me last week.” He scoffed. “I should have let them do it.”

I just stared at him wide-eyed.

“Why am I telling you all this?” He let out a huff of air and tried walking off, but I caught his shoulder. He turned and looked at me as if I was an annoying mosquito he couldn't swat.

“Promise me,” I said, staring him down.

“What?” He sighed as he picked up his backpack and slung it onto his back.

“Promise me that you won't kill yourself.”

He started laughing. “Why?” He thought this was funny?

“Because I care, alright?” I said, glaring at him. “So don't do it.”

I was afraid. I had never had to convince someone not to commit suicide. Whether he lived or died now was all up to me. What could I say, especially for this complete stranger? I didn't know a thing about him, so how could I possibly convince him not to put a bullet through his head?

“You care?” he asked, not believing me in the least. “You don't even know my name.”

“Then what is it?”

We both stared each other down for a few moments before he decided to answer. His demeanor suddenly changed, becoming less cynical and softening just enough to let me see that there was a human in there. I think I felt sorry for him.

“Darren.” He didn't look at me with steely eyes any longer, but with a deep, hurt expression. This wasn't a cocky college student anymore; it was a man who had just tried to kill himself. “Who are you?”

“Annie. Nice to meet you.”

He let out another wry laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. “You don't really mean that.”

“Yes, I do!” I frowned. What was his problem?

“Go preach your love shit to someone else.”

Since this conversation wasn't heading anywhere pleasant, I tried to veer it in a different direction, but the way he was looking at me like I was dirt under his fingernails made my question come out all wrong.

“Why would you kill yourself in broad daylight, anyway? If you got into to Yale, I thought you'd be a little smarter about it.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it. Darren's expression was a mix of anger and delight. How he managed that, I had no idea.

“Wouldn't that have been a fun show for everyone? At least I'll be more interesting when I'm covered in blood.”

I stared at him in horror. This guy was a complete nutcase! He snickered at my reaction.

My blood began to boil. I didn't know why—why for this random guy, why today, why here. I was just fed up with listening to his psychotic negativity on my happy Yale visit, and I snapped.

“Fine!” I shouted. “You want to go kill yourself, go right ahead and burn in hell.”

“Oo, looks like I hit a nerve,” he jeered. Then he looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I seem to do that to a lot of people.”

That was it!

“Stop being such a whiny brat!” I shouted. “What happened that's so horrible that you want to kill yourself? Failed an exam? Dumped by a girl?”

He just stared at me, for once not knowing how to retaliate.

“Grow up,” I grumbled, my voice quieting.

“What year are you?” he asked, suddenly looking at me with interest.

“I don't go here. I'm still in high school—a senior.” Something about the way he was staring at me was . . .

“Aw, how cute,” he chided, laughing. I frowned and turned to walk off.

“I'm leaving.”

“Hey, Annie,” he said. I stopped and spun around to look at him again, but he just stared me down, his lips curling up into a smile as the seconds passed. What the heck . . . ?

“What school do you go to?” he finally asked. My face turned red when his expression didn't change. It was almost . . . seductive. I even thought his eyes flicked down to my chest, and then even lower to—

“H-Hamden High!” I blurted, completely flustered by the look he was giving me. No one had ever looked at me like that, and I had no idea how to react. Oh, shoot. Why did I just tell him the name of my school? Really brilliant move, Annie.

Then he broke out into a grin. “That's where I went!”

“No kidding. . . .”

Darren moved closer to me, and I took a step back, but he followed my movement. He was eying me as if I were a piece of meat.

“You doing anything right now?”

I stopped short, appalled. Was he hitting on me? I had to get myself out of this. Uncle wouldn't give a rat's ass what I did—not that he was ever home to find out anyway—but I still had values to uphold!

“A-A-Actually, I-I'm busy right n-now,” I stammered, jerking my hand out of his and taking a few quick steps back. Darren opened his mouth to respond, but I bolted before he had a chance to say anything.

My feet pounded on the road, wind blowing around my ears and into my face, numbing them. The tour group had vanished, and I didn't want to blindly walk around looking for them and bump into that creep again, so I decided to just head home. Breathing hard, I walked towards the parking lot, sighing as I looked over my shoulder at the campus.

So much for my dream school.