Rachel Davis

Tripped Up

 Lying in the dark, damp dorm room I didn’t even bother looking at the clock. All I knew was that I felt quite happy snuggled between the wall and the warm body beside me.

I squirmed around a bit and noticed that light was shining through the small cracks in the blinds, creating a pattern of slightly wavering vertical lines that extended across the walls and onto the ceiling. Dread filled me and I knew as soon as I looked at the clock panic would hit. I decided momentarily to just shut my eyes and forget it. Class wasn’t important, but sleep was.

As I lay there, my conscience wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. I slowly, quietly sat up, careful not to way him. If I thought my panic was bad, his was worse. He had an angry kind of panic, not something that is fun to deal with early in the morning.

 I knew that I was right before I saw the neon glow of the digital clock, 7:56. I jumped out of the bed with a quickness, startling him. I didn’t have to say anything. The irritation on my face spoke loud enough. When he looked at the clock he jumped up too, and shoved me out of his way.

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? You must have turned off the alarm or something because I never heard it go off. What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“Watch it, butthead. You didn’t hear it because it never went off to begin with. Don’t be mad you forgot to set the alarm. ” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He stopped momentarily only to glare and shoot me the bird before walking out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

“What a Jerk!”  I thought to myself.         

I didn’t plan on spending the night, so I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I had arrived at his dorm wearing a cotton skirt that hung on my hips and had trouble staying there. I was also adorned with a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers and a stained white T-shirt that screamed TRASHY.

 Throwing my hair in a ratty wad on the top of my head, I ran out the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the large mirror that hung on the wall leading to the lobby of the dorm.

“I look like a freaking character out of a Dr. Seuss book.”  I thought, dreading the upcoming day already.

 The weird looks I got as I bolted through the lobby and out of the boys dorm didn’t even register in my mind. It never occurred to me that I was not allowed to be there.  

Psychology beckoned from two minutes and about a mile away. Running as fast as I could, which wasn’t fast at all, I got to the end of the long parking lot only to remember I had driven to the boys dorm the night before. I debated on whether to run back to my car or to keep on towards class. Laziness got the best of me and I doubled back to my car.

Zooming across campus in my little red mustang, I narrowly avoided stampeding over a few pedestrians who were innocently trying to make their way to class. Fortunately, I peeled into the last parking spot in front of Taylor Hall.

 “It looks as though lady luck may come around after all.”  I thought, forgetting my book and spiral as I took off running towards class.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him drive past in his midnight blue Jetta. I laughed, knowing he had farther to go than I did, and he was definitely going to be late.

The loud chime of the clock tower started ringing eight o’clock as I made my way towards the looming marble steps. I tried to ignore the snickers of my fellow students as everyone got a load of my cool pink slippers and maroon skirt. I made it up about twenty steps and noticed a very hot wrestler guy, who was friends with my roommate, coming down the stairs towards me. It was then that I remembered what I looked like.

The embarrassment I felt really tripped me up, literally. I guess I didn’t lift my foot high enough to make it up the step I was trying to conquer. I didn’t realize I had fallen until the shock wore off.

            “Are you okay? That looked really bad.” He said as he knelt down on the stairs next to me.

Looking around, I tried to figure out some clever comeback that would surely make him remember me as more than the girl who just fell up the stairs. 

            “Oh yeah I am totally fine. This sort of thing actually happens to me all the time!” I stammered, trying desperately to pull myself together.

My chest and throat were overwhelmed by the familiar prickly, warm feeling of the bright red hives I knew were slowly climbing up my neck and into my cheeks. It was obvious he wanted to laugh. Maybe it was the fact that I had fallen in front of everyone. Or maybe it was that my skirt had flown up, flashing about ten people behind me.

The realization that today was laundry day and I was definitely wearing green granny panties attempted to creep into my consciousness but was quickly suppressed as the hot guy reached out his hand to help me up. 

“Thanks.” I said trying to form a small smile.

All I could do to keep from crying was get up and go as quickly as possible, without running, inside the building towards class. My knee throbbed uncontrollably where it had been assaulted by the edge of the marble step.

My embarrassment took over and the pain subsided as I cursed myself and carefully walked up to the Psychology Department, which was on the second floor.

“After all this and I am still late. I hate being late. Everyone will stare at me when I walk in. Maybe I should just go back to my dorm room and take a nap. I deserve to start this day all over.” I reasoned with myself, always willing to participate in the internal debate of whether or not to skip class.

There was lots of noise coming from my classroom as I rounded the corner.

“Yes!”  I thought “Dr. Taylor is running late today too.”

I was wrong. As soon as I turned the corner, I heard him calling roll. The internal debate started raging inside my head again but I reluctantly forced myself through the door of the classroom. I figured, I had gone through so much to make it to class, I had better do myself a favor and just go.

When I walked in, everyone, including Dr. Taylor stopped talking and started staring. I thought maybe they were trying to understand why I was wearing pink fuzzy slippers to class. Or maybe, they were wondering why I looked like I had just gotten run over by a dump truck.  It never occurred to me that everyone was staring at the river of blood gushing from my knee, down my leg.

Walking humbly towards my desk, a sudden flash of red caught my eye. That’s when I realized why everyone was still staring. They were wondering why I was bleeding pints of blood all over the floor for them to step through in about fifty minutes when class ended. I promptly did an about face and walked as fast as I could dragging my gimp leg behind me.

I stumbled through the bathroom door and found a cot in the bathroom. It was a really weird place for a cot, but I was so glad I could sit down and get off my now excruciatingly painful knee that I didn’t give it much thought. Grabbing a handful of wet paper towels, I sat down, and started cleaning myself up.

The door swung open and two elderly ladies came rushing in, obviously looking for me. I guess Dr. Taylor had let someone know that one of his students was bleeding to death in the bathroom.

“Oh, dear, how did you manage that? We will have to get you cleaned up so you don’t keep spilling blood everywhere.” said the lady whose nametag said Daisy Lou.

I laughed to myself, thinking that only in backwoods North Carolina would one come across a name like Daisy Lou.

“I tripped and fell coming up the stairs out front.” I started to explain.

“I swear Earline if they don’t do something ‘bout them steps someone is going to sue!” Daisy Lou said to the other lady, who was busy wiping small spots of blood off the floor.

“You know good and well they’re plain dangerous. Why, just last week I saw Professor Ward slip coming up them stairs for his morning class. Oh it was funny, but only ‘cause he didn’t hurt himself too bad. Nothing like this poor thing right here” Daisy Lou rambled on in her quintessential southern accent, even though Earline was paying no attention.

“I think we need to get her to the infirmary to have that knee looked at before the doctor leaves campus.” Earline finally stated, handing me one last bunch of wet paper towels to place on my knee.

Daisy Lou and Earline somehow managed to get me into the elevator, out of the building, and down the deadly stairs. 

“Should we call campus security to give you a ride, sweetheart?” Daisy Lou asked as I made it down the last step and onto the sidewalk.

 I was still embarrassed about how I was dressed and the fact that I couldn’t walk didn’t make things better.

“No, I don’t think it is as bad as it looks. I think I can make it, but thank you anyway. I really appreciate all your help. I never would have made it back down those stairs by myself.” I replied as I slowly made my way down the sidewalk.

Daisy Lou and Earline said goodbye and waved as they turned at went back into Taylor Hall.

 I limped the short distance to the infirmary, passing my car on the way. I fought the urge to get in, drive to my dorm, and crawl into my bed and die. My bleeding knee was obviously a problem and the hope for some great pain medicine motivated me towards the infirmary. The throbbing in my knee was so bad I could feel it radiating up my through my body and in my head.

I reached the infirmary only to find that the doctor left early to go golfing. The on-call nurse at the infirmary looked at my wound and decided that I needed to go immediately to the Urgent Care facility, which was about fifteen minutes away, to have it stitched up.

Easy for her to say, I drove a standard car. Meaning, I would have to use my injured left leg to push in the clutch. I desperately tried to call everyone I knew for a ride. Even he wouldn’t answer my calls.

“Go figure. It was his fault his stupid alarm didn’t go off anyway. See if I ever stay with him again. In fact, maybe it’s time to find a real man who knows how to set the alarm and answer the phone!” I raged.

By this time the pain was overwhelming and my embarrassment melted away into utter fury. I bit the bullet and drove myself to Urgent Care. When I got there, after hitting three curbs and running two red lights, I cursed him again and then thanked God I was still alive.

 Since I was still bleeding pretty badly the nurses at Urgent Care got me into the room quickly. Luckily, the nurses were all very nice to me, and didn’t ask too much about how I hurt myself, or about the pink fuzzy slippers which were now matted down with blood.

As I sat in the reclining chair in the “minor operation” room I looked around at all the glistening instruments that surrounded me. I always enjoyed the smell of the doctor’s office, so clean, fresh, and disinfected.

When the doctor walked in I almost fell off the table. He was young, tan, painfully handsome, and judging by his empty ring finger, hopefully single. Of course I had to tell him how I had fallen, and he actually laughed.

“I don’t think I have ever treated a patient who fell up the stairs before. But don’t worry, this won’t take very long” he joked as I once again felt my face turn bright red.

“I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!” I thought as I faked a smile.

Six stitches and no pain medication later I was sitting at the wheel of my car, wondering how I was going to get home. My knee had started to stiffen up and all the bandages that were wrapped around made bending my knee nearly impossible.

With tears streaming down my face I pushed the clutch in and turned my car on. My knee wobbled a little and simply gave out, letting the clutch go with it. The mustang jolted forward and let out a loud screech. I slammed my head into the steering wheel, letting it rest there while I tried to figure out what to do next.

Knock. Knock. Knock. I lifted my head off the steering wheel and looked out the driver window. There he was, Dr. McDreamy.

“Let me guess, you drive a standard car? There is no way you are going to be able to get anywhere with a busted knee. Don’t tell me you drove yourself here.” he said, smiling a little.

“Yeah I didn’t have much choice. I am surprised I wasn’t arrested half way here for running stop signs” I said.

He looked surprised, but amused.

“Do you have anyone you can call for a ride?” he said.

“Well I tried to call my ... umm … friend but he seems to be too busy to answer the phone. My roommate is in class and no one else is answering. Maybe I will be okay if I just wait a while and let my knee rest” I said.

“I am sure your mom taught you to never get in the car with strangers, but I would be glad to give you a ride back to wherever you’re going if you want” he offered. “I am a doctor after all. What’s the worst that could happen?” He smiled coyly.

Normally skeptical of everyone I encounter, I almost turned down his offer. Something about the comfort of his smile changed my mind and I agreed to let him drive me home. We walked over to a brand new, shiny, black mustang GT convertible and I was in heaven.

The exhaust rumbled underneath me and vibrated my seat as Dr. McDreamy took off down the country highway back towards Campbell University. I chose to ignore the incoming call I noticed on my cell phone.

“Haha. So now he wants to care. Well, I think it just might be too late.” I thought with confidence.

I threw my phone back into my purse and leaned into the leather seat, enjoying the feeling of the wind racing around me.

The tiniest bit of doubt about whether I should have ignored his call slowly filled my stomach. I started to reach down for my phone, which was ringing again, when I was interrupted.

 “Do you want to stop and get something to eat while we are out? I know a really low key Chinese place about twenty minutes away where no one will notice your injuries” he asked.

I nodded in agreement and smiled to myself, forgetting all about my throbbing knee and the missed phone calls.

Revision Account

I began this piece by using a memory from my college experience and expanding it to create a comical short story about a really bad day. I was not satisfied with the story from the beginning because I felt it was too simple and almost incomplete. I originally intended for this piece to be a short story in itself, and not part of a larger work but I have since reconsidered. I read it for the workshop in class and earnestly looked forward to hearing the ideas of my classmates.

Naturally, the class had a lot of wonderful suggestions that I incorporated into my revised version. I really liked having the copies of my piece with everyone’s individual edits to look over and reference for my revision. The edits I received from my classmates were really helpful in the overall fine tuning of my piece. There were many suggestions for places where I could use synonyms of overused words. I also found the suggestions about comma use very helpful. I also benefited from edits where classmates helped me to pull out extraneous words from long sentences to make them flow better. It amazed me how much the little changes added up to a more coherent, readable piece.

The biggest suggestion made was to add dialogue. I don’t know why I initially shied away from dialogue in the first draft. I was intimidated by making the characters speak because I felt like I was unable to make their interaction interesting enough for the piece. During revision, I added dialogue to almost every scene where the main character interacted directly with other characters. Sometimes it was only a few lines but I noticed immediately how much it helped my piece. Adding the dialogue seemed to help slow the pace of the story as a whole, and it also made it much more readable simply on a visual level. I learned that big blocks of text are intimidating to the reader and could result in a loss of interest what is actually being written.

The most important thing I have retained from the workshop process is the utter importance of revision. I revised my piece once with the suggestions from the workshop, a second time with suggestions from the individual papers that were returned to me, and then a third time with my own ideas that developed from the first two revision processes. Even after three revisions, I know that there is much more that can be done to expand this piece. Not only does revision help to clean up your paper, but it also sparks lots of ideas about where the story could go.

I found that my biggest problem was I was unwilling to take risks and make this a true fiction piece. I was initially guarded against stepping too far away from the reality of my experience. I realized that while reminiscing on my college days is fun for me, it is probably not as enjoyable for the reader. That is why I decided to go back and change the story, especially in the ending. I feel as though the new ending has led me to a place where I have the opportunity to continue the story even further.

I plan to keep expanding and revising this piece because I have grown attached to it. My idea was to make it one or two chapters in a larger book centered on the college experience. I decided I could create the book as a comedic bildungsroman, since the college experience has that effect on most people’s lives. I want to write a few chapters that could precede what I have already written to further develop all the main characters within the piece, giving this section and the ones to follow more depth. I feel like even though the main character is funny, the reader is unable to really become attached to them because there was not enough characterization. With all these ideas in mind, I feel as though I will be able to eventually produce a piece of creative fiction that I can truly be proud of.

Draft One (Original):

Lying in the dark, damp dorm room I didn’t even bother to try and look at the clock. All I knew was I felt quite happy snuggled between the wall and the warm body beside me. I squirmed around a bit and noticed that light was shining through the small cracks in the blinds. Dread filed me and I knew as soon as I looked at the clock panic would hit. I decided momentarily to just shut my eyes and forget it. Class wasn’t important, but sleep was. As I ay there my conscious wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. I slowly, quietly sat up, careful not to way him. If I thought my panic was bad, his was worse. He had angry panic, not something that is fun to deal with early in the morning. I knew I was right before I even saw the neon glow of the digital clock. 7:56. I jumped out of the bed with a quickness, startling him. I didn’t even have to say a word. The irritation on my face spoke loud enough. When he looked at the clock he jumped up too, shoving me out of his way. I didn’t plan on spending the night, so I didn’t bring clothes. I had arrived at his dorm wearing cotton skirt that hung n my hips and had trouble staying there. I also was also adorned with a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers and a stained white t-shirt that screamed trashy. I threw my hair up on top of my head and ran out the door. I didn’t even notice the weird look I got as I bolted through the lobby and out of the boys dorm. I guess it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t really allowed to be there. Psychology loomed two minutes and about a mile away. I started running as fast as I could, which isn’t very fast. I got to the end of the long parking lot and realized I had driven to the boys dorms the night before. I debated on whether to run back to my car or to keep on towards class. Laziness got the best of me and I doubled back to my car. After almost running over a few pedestrians who were innocently trying to make their way to class, I finally peeled into the last parking spot in front of Taylor Hall. Forgetting my book and spiral I took off running. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him drive past in his green Jetta. I laughed, knowing he had farther to go than I did and he was definitely going to be late. The loud chime of the clock tower started ringing eight o’clock as I made my way towards the looming marble steps. I tried to ignore the snickers of my fellow students as everyone got a load of my cool pink slippers and maroon skirt. I made it up about twenty steps and noticed a very hot wrestler guy, who was friends with my roommate, coming down the stairs towards me. It was then that I remember what I looked like. The embarrassment I felt really tripped me up, literally. I guess I didn’t lift my foot high enough to make it up the step I was trying to conquer. I didn’t realize I had fallen until the shock wore off. I looked around and saw the hot guy right next to me, asking repeatedly if I was okay. I mumbled something unrecognizable and tried to get myself together. I know my skirt had flown up, and I had probably flashed about ten people, fallen in front of everyone, and worst of all after all the effort I exerted to get to class on time, I was late. All I could do to keep from crying was get up and go as quickly as possible, without running, inside the building towards class. I felt my knee throbbing uncontrollably where it had smashed directly into the edge of the hard step. Unfortunately, my embarrassment took over and the pain subsided as I cursed myself and carefully walked up to the psychology department which was on the second floor. I could hear lots of noise coming from my classroom before I rounded the corner. I thought I had finally caught a break and the professor wasn’t in the room yet. I was wrong. As soon as I turned the corner I heard him calling role. I had to talk myself into walking through the door. I figured I had gone through so much to make it to class; I had better do myself a favor and go. As soon as I walked in everyone, including Mr. Taylor stopped talking and started staring. I thought maybe they were trying to understand why I was wearing pink fuzzy slippers to class. Or maybe, they were wondering why I was wearing pink fuzzy slippers to class. Or maybe, they were wondering why I looked like I had just gotten run over by a dump truck.  It never occurred to me that everyone was staring at the river of blood gushing from my knee, down my leg. I started to walk humbly towards my desk and a flash of red caught my eye. That’s when I realized why everyone was still staring. They were wondering why I was bleeding pints of blood all over the floor for them to step through in about fifty minutes when class ended. I promptly did an about face and walked as fast as I could dragging my gimp leg behind me. I stumbled through the bathroom door and found a cot in the bathroom. I thought it was a really weird place for a cot, but I was just glad I could sit down and get off my now excruciatingly painful knee. I grabbed some wet paper towels, sat down, and started cleaning myself up. The door swung open and two elderly ladies came rushing in, obviously looking for me. I guess my professor had to let someone know that one of his students was bleeding to death in the bathroom. They helped me clean myself up and somehow managed to get me into the elevator, out of the building, and down the deadly stairs.  I was still embarrassed about how I was dressed and the fact that I couldn’t walk didn’t make things better. I insisted I could make it to the infirmary by myself, and thanked the women for their help. I limped the short distance to the infirmary, passing my car on the way. I had to figure the urge to get in, drive to my dorm, and crawl into my bed and die. I knew that my bleeding knee was obviously a problem, and hoped for some great pain medicine because the throbbing was so bad I could feel it in my head. After the on call nurse at the infirmary looked at my wound she decided that I needed to go immediately to the Urgent Care facility, which was about fifteen minutes away. Easy for her to say, I drove a standard car. Meaning, I would have to use my injured left leg to push in the clutch. I desperately tried to call everyone I knew for a ride. Even he wouldn’t answer my calls. Go figure. It was his fault his stupid alarm didn’t go off anyway. By this time the pain was overwhelming and my embarrassment had turned to rage. I bit the bullet and drove myself to Urgent Care. When I got there, after hitting three curbs and running two red lights, I wondered what possessed me to try and drive by myself. Since I was still bleeding pretty badly the nurses at urgent care got me into the room quickly. Luckily, they were all very nice to me, and didn’t ask to much about how I hurt myself or about the pink fuzzy slippers which were now matted down with blood. When the doctor walked in I almost fell off the table. He was young, dark, and painfully handsome. Of course I had to tell him how I had fallen, and he actually laughed. I felt my face turn red and just wished I could get out of there. Six stitches and no pain medication later I was sitting at the wheel of my car, wondering how I was going to get home. My knee had started to stiffen up and with all the bandage that was wrapped around it I had difficulty bending it at all. With tears streaming down my face I drove back to school. When I got to my dorm room there was a message waiting for me on my answering machine. It was Mr. Taylor, my psychology teacher, letting me know that today I had exceeded my allotted absences for his class and in accordance with school policy had to drop me from the class.