The Double-Tap Accident

Chapter One: Steal A Stop Sign.

The Double-Tap Accident

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Started: Saturday, August 22, 2020

Chapter One: "Steal A Stop Sign."

FUCK.

I was going to be late, I ran as hard as I could. I was going to be so late.

My feet took me down the large hill of my school, Herringway University.

The campus was huge. A 40-minute walk from one end to the other. First year and upper-year residences stood at each corner of the land and in the middle comprised big buildings, both old and modern, holding lecture halls, smaller classrooms for tutorials, labs and all of my sanity as I made my way down the hill smack dab in the center of it all.

Herringway was in the center of Jasper Bay, a small town in the southwest part of the province of Ontario in Canada. The university was beautiful. Especially between the late months of September to December.

There was something about the way it looked in autumn where the many trees throughout campus turned different shades of brown, yellow and orange. You could feel the crunchiness of the leaves beneath your feet and various people carrying their pumpkin spice lattes in their hands as they moved between classes.

The transition to winter when those leaves upon the trees fell and their branches become covered with all types of snow, making it look magical as anything one has ever seen. I wasn't a huge fan of winter but to look at it from the outside was fantastic. The pumpkin spice lattes that everyone held in autumn turned into coffee sold the place most Canadians got the drink: Tim Hortons.

God, I should've drank coffee earlier today.

I almost groaned out loud as I ran and ran. Luckily, the cold air hitting my cheeks that were starting to numb kept me partially awake as I tried to reach the other side of the small street where targets lay after the crossroad. Trees blurred by me, meticulously planted like the silvers cuffs in my box braids as I glanced down at my phone to see I had approximately five minutes. Fuck.

While the September air was refreshing against my exposed face, one of my Nigerian grandmothers would have scolded me if I said that out loud to them. My parents wouldn't have cared. Mom was raised in a small town in Ontario, Canada while my dad had grown up near New Haven, Connecticut down in the US.

But my grandmothers would never understand how much I loved fall despite how much I didn't like winter. Cold weather (again specifically fall weather) gave me an excuse to show off my sweaters and my neon hats. My dark skin practically glowed in it and my confidence, according to my friend Yasmeen, skyrocketed in this weather.

Any confidence I could have at this moment, however, flew out the window when I almost tripped over my shoes. I caught myself instantly, a few curious eyes falling on me, but I didn't care.

Gripping onto the straps of my backpack, I made my way past a group of friends laughing by the landing, a few with scarves and light jackets. My black leather jacket wouldn't have gotten me any attention, but the neon orange beanie on top of my braids definitely did-if I wasn't running like a lunatic already.

"C'mon," I muttered after crossing the street, seeing the pile of students blocking the entrance to the Recreational Centre. I all but shoved my way past them, saying 'excuse me' to my left and right and for the hundredth time almost falling as I made my way inside.

A blast of heat hit my face in the extensive building. Olympic sized pools were on my left when I glanced downward behind the glass panel at a swim team using them for practice on the floor below. Sets of intricate-looking treadmills that never in my life would I want to go on were on my right, occupied by people who had the motivation I wish I understood to be here.