Luck Runs Out

Marley groaned, massaging her stiff muscles, trying to ease the ache from hours hunched over the desk. Her eyelids felt heavy and thick; if she closed them, she feared they would not open again. Outside her dormitory window she heard a faint murmur of rhythmic voices coming up through the parking lot, chanting cadences with verve. If the ROTC were already out for their morning run, she figured, it must be around 6:00 AM, which meant she had been awake all night. 

She stared at the computer screen, the cursor blinking at her disapprovingly. Fingers suspended over the keyboard, she tried formulating a coherent sentence that would end the paragraph explaining which chemical compounds would be useful for soil assessment during forensic analysis but finding words felt like searching for stars on a cloudy night. 

Outside, the cadets were moving away, their cadence rolling out behind them,

 “Mama and Papa were layin’ in bed,

Mama and Papa were layin’ in bed,

Mama rolled over and Papa she said,

Mama rolled over and Papa she said,

Oh gimme some,

Gimme some,

P-T,

P-T…”

Marley sighed, checking her schedule. Her first exam was Intro to Art Concepts at 8:00 AM and as long as she showed up, her grade was secure. She had time to shower, grab coffee at the cafeteria, then double-back to the Art Building. If she were lucky, the classroom would be unlocked and she could nap at the desk until the exam. 

Forty-five minutes later, she stood outside the cafeteria with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee in hand, warming her against the brisk wind. A feeling of renewed vitality came over her, and she recalled the marching minstrels outside her dorm earlier that morning. Perhaps they were on to something; despite her exhaustion, the exertion of energy in getting to the cafeteria had shaken some of the fog from her brain. As she walked, she thought satisfactorily over the rest of the day: Acing the art final, napping, studying for tomorrow’s Psych exam, then-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a thin, metallic screech of brakes as she stepped off the curb. Instantly, she panicked, her brain signaling her to run across the road while simultaneously alerting her to jump back out of the way. One foot ran, the other jumped, and Marley collapsed, falling under a shining brown arc of coffee as she hit the ground.

She managed to move herself quickly back onto her feet but tripped again, fumbling to catch the rolling coffee cup while avoiding the gaze of the driver in the offending vehicle. Her face was burning, though how much of the sensation was due to the splash of hot beverage rather than utter embarrassment, she couldn’t be sure. She stumbled off the road, dabbing furiously at her face with her sleeve. A car door slammed and she heard the clack of heels running towards her.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

The driver of the vehicle, a young, shapely brunette, was trotting over to her. “Oh my gosh,” the young woman repeated. Are you hurt? You’re crying!”

“No, I’m not,” Marley said, hoping she seemed more cheery than she felt. “I’m fine.”

  “Your face is all splotchy and red,” said the girl, gaping at her. “I didn’t actually hit you, did I? I didn’t see you around the corner!”

“Coffee splashed me in the face,” Marley said, “It was a bit hot, which is probably why it’s red. But really, I’m fine.”

“I am so sorry. Can I do anything? Drive you to wherever you’re going?”

“I was just headed to the Art building,“ Marley said, shaking her head. Then, looking down at her shirt. “Um, actually, I probably need to go back to the dorm to change clothes.”

“Well, here, let me drive you. I feel awful and you look pretty shook up. Hop in.”

Persuaded, and not wanting to walk around campus looking like an accident, Marley accepted her offer and got into the car.

“I’m Hannah, by the way,” said the girl from behind the wheel. “I was on my way to meet my boyfriend at breakfast when I ran into- no, almost, ran into you.” She laughed. “He always says I’m a terrible driver. Then again, I wasn’t driving very fast and the pedestrian walkway isn’t even close to where you were trying to cross.”

Marley cringed. 

“I pulled an all-nighter last night,” she tried to explain. “Iwasn’t thinking straight, I guess.” 

Hannah nodded. “Been there. Not the nearly getting run over part, of course, but the long study nights. Okay, well, here you go.” 

“Thanks so much,” Marley said, stepping out of the car. “And sorry for disrupting your morning.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, just maybe get some sleep or something,” Hannah said. “Or, stay inside, if you can help it, it looks like rain today. You’ll have more than just coffee to ruin your outfit.” Laughing, she drove away. 

Back in her room a wave of exhaustion swept over Marley. The quiet dimness was tempting, but a sharp ding from the computer distracted her from how comfortable her bed appeared. A message flashed on the screen: Update needed. Accept or Ask Later? She clicked accept and a new message emerged: Do not turn off or unplug monitor until update is complete. 

She sighed and sat down, checking her phone for any new updates on the last two days of finals. There was an email from the library reminding students of extended study hours and one from the Student Council about goody bags being passed out in the Administration Building for morale. Hurrah. She yawned, stretching out her legs. She could’ve really used that coffee. 

The door clicking shut jolted her awake, her elbow knocking against the wooden arm of the chair. She grimaced, and turned to see her roommate, Arlene, standing in the door, arms laden with shopping bags, staring at her. 

“What on earth, Marley. Did you fall asleep in your chair? I thought you had class this morning.”

Marley gasped, checking her phone. It was 8:54AM. 

“No! No, no! I did! I was going and almost got hit and Hannah- I must have fallen asleep!” Marley cried out, frantically grabbing at her book bag in panic. Arlene set her shopping down and sat on the bed. “Okay, calm down. What are you even talking about? Did you make it to class or not?”

“No, Arlene! I missed it!” Marley said in exasperation. She tried to think. “Maybe I can catch Dr. Dearbright and explain. Surely she’ll let me take it anyway, right?”

“Sure,” said Arlene. “It’s worth a shot. Though, not to be rude, but you might want to clean up before you go, you look super grunge. Or you know what, it might help your case. So never mind.”

Marley rushed to the bathroom, nearly crying when she saw her reflection. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot and her bun had come loose, hair sticking out in a fringe around her face. The coffee spill had dried, leaving a long sepia stain down her hoodie. Arlene’s voice piped up from the other room. 

“I know this might not be a good time to mention it, but just out of curiosity, did you get that paper done for the Forensics final? I finally finished mine last night.”

Splashing cold water on her face, Marley replied without attempting to stem the sarcasm dripping with every word, “No, Arlene, some of us have off-campus jobs to pay the bills. I was up all night after work. This morning really isn’t going well, obviously, and I’m more tired than I’ve ever been in my life. Thank you so much for your concern about my grades though.” 

Arlene appeared in the doorway, her face in open shock. “Marley.”

“Look, I’m sorry, Arlene, but I’m doing my best. Right now, I have to see about that stupid exam and I’m frustrated. Will you please move?”

“Your paper isn’t done?”

Marley rolled her eyes.

“I just said that it wasn’t. I’m not worried about it so why are you? I’ve got today and tomorrow. Plenty of time to get it done.”

Arlene’s eyes widened. Marley stared at her. “Damn it, Arlene, why are you looking at me like that?”

“The paper is due today, at midnight.”

“What? Our papers have always been due on Fridays. Dr. Fields would have said something!”

“He did, the syllabus says Wednesday. And remember yesterday’s class time was the project workshop where we brought our outlines and first drafts for others to critique.”

Marley felt ill, and her eyes spontaneously filled with tears. “I hadn’t planned on going to the workshop because I needed the hours at work and, I just assumed…”

“That sucks so bad, Mar. What can I do? Anything? I have two exams today, but in between I can read what you have, if you want?”

Marley wiped her face with her sleeve. “Ugh, I don’t know. I’ll never make the Dean’s List now.” She moaned, tears streaming. “Why do I try so hard, it doesn’t even seem to matter.” 

She was sobbing uncontrollably now, and Arlene looked to the heavens for help. 

“Okay, stop. You missed one test and have the rest of the day to finish the paper. Work on it when you get back from talking with Dr. Dearbright.”

Marley knew she was right, but it felt easier to weep than to do anything else. 

After a few minutes, spent and weary, she took a shaky breath and said thickly, “I feel like such a failure. But if you don’t mind, I’ll pull up the paper and you can look at it whenever you get the chance. Thank you.”

She left the bathroom and logged on to her computer. After several minutes she whispered, with a herculean effort to maintain her composure: “It’s gone.”

“What?” said Arlene, rushing over, “What do you mean?” 

“It’s not here. I’ve checked recent files and past documents and it’s not showing up. I thought maybe I saved it somewhere else accidentally, but I can’t find it. I don’t know where it's gone, Arlene!”

Her throat began tightening, threatening another bout of tears.

Arlene valiantly offered to search the files herself, but her efforts were of no avail. The Forensic project could not be found. 

Apologetically, Arlene had to run out the door for a study group at the library, leaving Marley sitting on the ground wishing fairy godmothers were real. But they weren’t, Dean’s List be damned. 

The late morning cast a gloomy light over her room from outside. It was no longer the cozy retreat from a few hours prior. Nor was there any point in sitting on the cold floor, so she pulled herself to her feet, stuffing her useless computer in her bag, and left.

She went to see Dr. Dearbright, but the elderly woman did nothing for Marley but reassure her that she would indeed pass the class and had no need to get worked up. 

“Let bygones be bygones,” she said, her eyes blinking magnificently behind thick, green-rimmed glasses. “I’m disappointed you missed the examination, but I do not take it personally. Your presence here satisfies me that it was accidental. However,” pausing to look pointedly at her, “I cannot allow you special favors. Being an Introductory Art course, attendance is something not all students find mandatory. If I don’t allow make-up exams for all, I won’t allow it for one. I’m sure you understand.”

Marley slumped against the doorway of Dr. Dearbright’s haphazard closet she called an office, too exhausted to argue.

Dr. Dearbright looked at her, cheeks rosy with heavy-handed blush. 

“You look a little rough, dear,” she said. “I’ve been around long enough to know a stressed out student when I see one. Have exams not been going well?” She winked. “Besides mine, I mean.”

Surprising herself, Marley felt words pour out of her. She explained the overnight vigil on her project, how she was nearly run over while crossing the road, finding out she lost her Forensic paper, and how she despaired at missing the Dean’s List for the first time since beginning at the university. For the second time that day, tears fell streaming from her eyes. Dr. Dearbright listened so intently that for a moment, Marley felt a particle of hope that this grandmotherly woman might have sympathy for her and allow her to take the exam. 

But she left the office shortly after with a mint, a few tissues, and no exam. However, Dr. Dearbright had offered a small solution from personal experience. She frequently had issues with her computer, mostly with old presentations or entering scores, and had the extension of the Computer Lab memorized because of how often she called for their assistance. She advised Marley to visit them.

Once more, Marley found herself under clouds of gloom. She barely registered the light rumble of thunder overhead as she walked to the Computer Lab, where half of the science world tended to congregate. She belonged to the other side, of Chemistry and Biology labs, where formaldehyde and bleach dominated the olfactory senses. The Computer Lab smelled of floor wax with a whiff of burnt popcorn. 

Inside, a student volunteer was manning the lab, sitting at the front of the room behind a long desk that hosted three large monitors and several industrial printers. She approached, quietly, hoping to avoid undue attention from several students using the public computers throughout the room. 

He looked up at her when she stopped at the desk, and waited for her to speak. 

“Um, hi, I’m not sure if this is where I need to go, but I was hoping someone could help me.”

He raised one dark eyebrow but said nothing. 

She continued. 

“I had a file on my computer and I don’t know how to find it,” she said, feeling rather unbalanced by the fact that he was a fit, orderly looking young man with a no-nonsense demeanor and she was arriving in his space looking like a slob. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know how to find it,” he said, unperturbed. “Did you look under recent files?”

“Yes, I’ve tried everything,” she said, hoping to convince him that underneath her reprehensible appearance was a capable and independent individual. “My roommate tried as well. The file is completely gone.”

She passed him the computer, anxieties mixing first with hopelessness that he might not be able to help, and then with fear that her project would be easily found under the file it was supposed to be saved under, proving she was a fool in every regard. He was mulling over the screen when the sound of heels came from behind Marley, and he looked up, grinning when he saw who was approaching. 

“Hey, babe,” he said, “I’ll be done in a minute.”

A shining brunette head came up beside Marley and she recognized Hannah, her near killer and helper, who similarly recognized her and smiled broadly. 

“Oh my gosh! Matt, this is the girl that walked in front of my car this morning when I was coming to meet you at breakfast! How funny!” She said, and glancing at Marley’s shirt, “Didn’t you go back to your room? To change?”

Marley’s face flushed. “I did but accidentally fell asleep.” Hannah was not Dr. Dearbright and the lab was no private office. Further explanation was out of the question. 

“Interesting. So what are you doing here?” Hannah asked. 

“I lost an important file and was hoping,” Marley glanced down at Matt clicking around on her computer, “someone could help me find it.”

“If anyone can find it, it’s Matt. He’s got brains and brawn,” said Hannah, giggling. She leaned closer, whispering loudly, “he’s ROTC and wants to do cyber warfare.”

Matt rolled his eyes from behind the computer. Awkward silence filled the space between the two women. 

Hannah sighed. 

“Well, I’m on an early lunch. Will you be done soon, Matty? I have my car.”

He grunted. She turned to Marley, “Need me to give you another ride?”

Marley smiled weakly and shook her head. How about lending me some of that pep and free-spirit attitude, she thought. Hannah probably made the Dean’s List without even trying. Or, more likely, made the President’s List and didn’t even care. Matt too, except he worked hard and it paid off, literally. 

She was lost in the mire of her mental existence, wishing she could find a warm, quiet cave and set up a hermitage there, when Matt suddenly sat back, exclaiming, “Aha! Is this it?”

He showed her the screen on which was displayed an open file with the title “Evidence of Death Through Soil Analysis”. She nearly fainted from relief. 

“Yes! That’s it. I can’t believe you found it.”

He handed her the laptop and stood up, stretching, success planting a grin between his chiseled cheekbones. “Nah, it wasn’t that difficult. I can almost always find them on the hard drive. Missing files aren’t as lost as people think they are.”

Hannah tapped her long, manicured nails on the desk. “Well, happy day! Matt’s a hero, and I’m hungry.” She laughed and waited as Matt collected his things. She turned to Marley, “Hopefully, your day turns around, whatever it is you’re doing. Maybe we’ll run into each other again, or maybe I shouldn’t wish for that!” 

Marley heard her giggling as they left the lab, but a sudden continuous rumble of thunder drowned her out. A quick staccato began beating against the windows, and she realized the dark clouds outside had let loose their pent up energies. For several moments she stared at the rain streaking the glass, deep in thought. Then, looking about for an open desk, set up her laptop and began to type.