Mila Wilson; hopeful architect, coffee addict, and college freshman. Her life is simple. Go to school, come home, sleep, start again. She likes it that way, a stable environment and a place that lets her creative thoughts flow. But when she ends up...
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"It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do."
- Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
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THE sun harshly blazes in my eyes through the knock off ray bans I had so graciously believed would work, as I attempt to watch the current mess of a football game play before me. To me, all this is a bunch of meaty guys, wearing funny hats, and throwing themselves at each other. I never really got into the whole jock thing, even the boys at my previous high school annoyed for no particular reason other than the fact they played football.
On the other hand, there was Tammy, who was close to screaming her entire head off. Even the loud bickering family that had sat next to us through the entire game, looked at her with disdain. I don't and won't ever get the hype of this sport, or any other sport for that matter. But after she had pleaded, genuinely on her knees pleading, I gave in. Angus, the guy who was meant to be accompanying her had cancelled, but there was no shock there. The guy was a prick, and if going to a football game meant I could get him away, then so be it. So here I am confused, sweaty, and tired. The perfect concoction for a Friday afternoon.
As I sit wordlessly watching everything unfold I can't help but think this is not what I expected college to be like. It's only my first semester and yet all that I have heard and seen are football games and parties, which although sparked my interest at first has within three weeks, driven me to insanity. It's constant, every damn night there's a party upstairs or downstairs. How much can you drink until you get sick of it? three weeks for me, never according to my neighbours.
Yet despite the lack of sleep and my ignorant fellow dorm neighbours, I have gotten one thing I truly wanted. Spending more time with my forever person, Tammy Jones. We were inseparable from the moment our parents introduced us, going through junior school then high school stronger than ever. Yet in tenth grade, her parents decided the city just wasn't for them anymore. For the first time, we were separated. It was hell. For the first week, we cried relentlessly to each other over the phone, promising each other that we'd be back together soon. And the promise was not an empty one. We committed to schooling like never before, vowing that we would go to college together. And somehow we managed.
Looking over at her intense gaze over the game and mess of black curls that shook ferociously with each yell, I couldn't help but laugh to myself. She was definitely crazy but she was my crazy.
The horn blasts halfheartedly through the speaker, signalling the end of the game. Thank god. I readjust the sunglasses on my face before sighing a little too loudly.
"Wow, did Mila not enjoy the football game? Shocker." Tammy snickers sarcastically as she looks over at me through her wild hair.
I roll my eyes at her proclamation and look out onto the messy crowd of people. "I can currently smell everyone's' sweat within a one-mile radius, so I have not only watched the most god awful game ever but also nearly choked to death on the smell of moist armpits". Bringing it up only made me feel more nauseous, the description a little too real.
Tammy wrinkles her nose. "Gross".
I nod my head in agreement as we grab our bags from underneath the chairs and wonder out of the stadium with the crowd. The jostling of everyone's bodies annoying me more than it should do. By the time we're out, the sun is already beginning to dip below the skyline, an orange and purple hue seeping across downtowns busy streets.
Tammy, who is slightly further ahead turns around rapidly with an excited gleam in her eye. I already know she has something planned before the words come out. "There's a new little restaurant that's opened up close to here that I've been wanting to go to for weeks! You should see their Instagram page, it's mouthwatering." She says as a wicked smile stretches across her face.
I, however, am not feeling the same excitement. Particularly since I just want to go back to my room and finish the weekly summary for my sketching class, of which I had been procrastinating for too long.
"...And?" I reply nonchalantly, making sure not to make eye contact with her.
She scoffs outwardly. "And I would like to go to tonight since we're already out."
I already know there's no point in arguing, she wins about ninety-five per cent of our arguments, her manipulation tactics something that the FBI would envy. And currently, at this point, I have no energy for an argument in which I will be undeniably defeated.
I weakly nod my head causing an exuberant squeal to erupt from her. Grabbing my hand she pulls me through the lowly lit back streets, clearly already knowing her way. I should have known, going out with Tammy is never what you think.
Before I know it we're outside a small corner street restaurant bustling with people. I'm genuinely surprised, her picks normally something a little more extravagant. It's a cosy place with rustic brick exterior embedded with large glass windows and littered with warm coloured fairy lights. The normally concrete pathway is covered in faux grass and petite picnic tables, full of groups chatting away. As we get closer I notice through the glass that the inside is a similar aesthetic but with booths lining the perimeter. The flicker of a crackling fire peaks the interest of my freezing hands.
We opt to sit inside, mainly due to my frigidness when it came to the weather, but also due to the lack of seating available outside. The door chimes as we enter, the warmth drawing me inside quickly. A pretty brunette waitress dressed casually in a green button-up flannel, greets us before proceeding to pull out two chairs near the main window.
I begin to lower myself but falter when the sound of rubber skidding against asphalt comes from outside, its screech so piercing that it continues to ring in my ears moments after. Both Tammy and I instinctively look out the window confused by the sound, half expecting a crash of sorts. Instead on the narrow street sits two ominous black four-wheel drives parked haphazardly across the main road, their engines vibrating the flimsy sheet of glass. It seems to have caught the whole restaurants attention, all heads including the servers, turned towards the obtrusive vehicles.
Although slightly odd I shake it off, nothing seeming to come from the situation. I turn back to Tammy ready to sit down but instead I come face to face with her paled expression. Her wide eyes continue to stare out the window. Convinced I've missed something, I peer back and immediately regret it.
A group of what seemed to be five or six men clad in all black attire have exited both vehicles, the doors still swinging. That isn't the part that had everyone in the restaurant frozen. Each figure has some form of a weapon in their hand, whether that was a machete or semi-automatic rifle, and they are coming straight for the restaurant.
