Cheap Shot by Brittney Mulliner
Sneak Peak : Trick Play
Chapter One - Kennedy
The beige wallscovered in bland, mass-produced abstract monstrosities were closing in on me.
I’ve never been claustrophobic before, nor have I ever had an anxiety attack, but apparently, there was a first for everything.
“Did you hear me, Ms. Thompson?” Ms. Olivo, the department head of the art school was watching me over her tortoiseshell glasses.
I shook my head. Then nodded. I heard her. I just wished I didn’t.
“One class? Three credits?” I repeated.
“Yes, you can take it next semester, though.” she smiled as if that was even an option.
“No,” I wasn’t deliberately trying to be rude, but she just dropped a bomb on my head and expected me to be cheerful about it? Sorry. No.
“Excuse me?” her smile wavered.
I blinked back.
“What do you mean ‘no’?” she asked again.
“I can’t wait to take it next semester. I’m supposed to graduate in December.” I didn’t take classes through the summer terms to not get out of here early.
Her over-plucked brows rose up her forehead. “My, well. I see how this could be a problem.”
Finally, we were on the same page.
“I can’t excuse you from this. The changes were made last year. It was up to you and your counselor to adjust your courses to fulfill the requirements.”
Flashes of me standing up and throwing the chair across the room filled my head, but I stayed poised. You killed more bees with honey, or whatever that idiotic saying was.
“I did speak with my counselor. She realized she never notified me of the change since I was matriculated before the said change went into effect. She didn’t think it applied to me.”
Ms. Olivo shook her head, “If it had been your final year, then maybe, but the additional requirements to the major do apply to you.”
I took in a slow, deep breath. I could not lose my cool. I was a mature adult and I would handle this as such.
“What can be done? Is there a class I can sign up for this semester?” If there was one thing my dad taught me, it was that there was always a solution and if you couldn’t find it, make it.
She turned toward her computer and began clicking. I tried to distract myself while she worked away, but everything in the office was generic and tacky. Given her position, I expected more creativity. Maybe some student pieces or prints of her favorite works. Not something she likely bought on sale at a discount store. Did she even know anything about art or was she just someone the university gave a promotion to without double-checking her qualifications?
“There is a half-semester course you could take that would fulfill the requirement,” she said while still staring at the screen.
I scooted to the edge of my chair. “Really? What is it?”
“History of photography,” she read before meeting my eyes. “It starts next week.”
I kept my expression as neutral as possible. I had so much on my plate already, but I could fit in one more class. Most of my art history courses were easy As.
“I’ll do it.”
She pushed her glasses up her nose. “It looks like it’s full at the moment, but I’ll add you and email the professor know it’s been approved by me.”
Great. Whatever needed to happen to keep my timeline in place.
“Thank you.”
My heart rate and patience were returning to normal and my impulse to kick or scream was dwindling. I wasn’t normally so mean, even in my head, but I was beyond my limit. My last few months of school were supposed to be easy, predictable, and a smooth sail right on to walking onto the stage for my diploma.
But it’s been one thing after another lately. My apartment flooded so I had to move back into the dorms. The car I spent two years saving up for sold the month before I was ready to buy it, so much for verbal contracts. Oh, and the company I spent the past three summers interning for with the hopes of getting a job offer after graduation was sold and restructured to the point that no one I worked with is still around to vouch for me.
It’s been a very bad, no good kind of day. . . well month . . .or two.
Things wouldn’t stay like this forever. That was the one comforting thought keeping me from throwing in the towel and finding a quiet place to cry. All things, good and bad, changed. So at some point, my life would no longer be a series of unfortunate events. I might even look back at this time and laugh.
Maybe in a few years.
“That is done,” she said with a final click,” I apologize that this was a last-minute upset, but at least we were able to find a solution.”
“I really appreciate your help.” Ms. Olivo smiled and this time I returned it before standing and leaving her oppressive office.
Most of my classes were in this building now that I was only taking those specific to my major. It was nice not having to run around campus, but it did make the hours feel long drifting through the same halls. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I even stayed in the same room for four hours straight.
My next class started in ten minutes so I headed down the stairs and claimed my normal seat at the end of the middle row before pulling out my tablet and phone. An email notification was on the screen from the school so I clicked on it and read over the details of the course I just added. History of Photography taught by Professor Clements. At least it was someone I knew. He was an older man that wasn’t too strict or hard on grading. He made you work, but it wasn’t impossible to get an A like some professors made their classes.
I didn’t have access to the syllabus yet, but hopefully, it wouldn’t throw off my schedule too much. Thanks to my summer internships, which were paid, I didn’t have to work through the school year, but that didn’t mean I had a ton of free time either. I was already taking six classes and since they were all upper level, the workload was intense.
Most people didn’t think graphic design was a challenging program, but I had several projects due every week that each required at least two or three hours to complete. Adding in a condensed half-semester course wasn’t exactly the best idea, but I had no other choice. I refused to stay here for another five months for three stupid credits.
Not that I necessarily had a plan post-graduation anymore. I was giving myself until after the Thanksgiving break to start sending out my resume and portfolio.
Another notification appeared at the top of my screen. Mya, my roommate and best friend, texted me.
Mya: What do you think?
I clicked on the listing of a two-bedroom apartment in downtown Pittsburgh. It was fine. The price was within the budget we set. Plus, it was in a good location and it checked off of the most crucial must-haves of in-unit laundry and at least one dedicated parking space.
Kennedy: Looks good
I didn’t know how to tell her Pittsburgh wasn’t far enough away for me. I wanted to get away from West Penn University, and twenty minutes wasn’t what I had in mind.
But I was trying to compromise. She and I planned out our futures back at the beginning of our sophomore year. We’d been a random pairing in the dorms when we were freshmen and instantly clicked. She was the best friend I’d ever had and I loved her like the sister I always wanted.
Which was why I was trying to keep an open mind.
Since she’s majoring in health administration, we’re both able to work pretty much anywhere. Another reason for getting as far away as possible. I wanted to get out and see more of the world. Experience someplace new. We didn’t have to go somewhere like New York or Los Angeles. I was perfectly fine with a more affordable area, but couldn’t we at least go to the other side of the state?
“Good afternoon, class. How is everyone doing?” Professor Mackey strolled into the class and sat her bag down on the front table before pulling out her laptop and connecting it to the projector.
“Good,” a few voices called back.
She smiled and nodded, not looking up as she logged in and pulled up a presentation. “We have an exciting project this week.”
As much as I liked her as a teacher, I’d learned last year not to trust her when she said things like that. One ‘exciting project’ was a month-long programming nightmare that took years off my life.
“You have the opportunity for the entire campus to see your work.” She took a step back and swept her eyes over the room.
I crossed my arms and sank into my chair. This wasn’t good. It usually meant we were providing free labor to the school. Actually, we were paying them and giving them free labor.
“What is it this time?” Dustin, a fellow senior, called.
Mackey’s facade cracked, biting her lip at his sour tone. “The athletic department is looking to refresh some of the banners.”
“So why doesn’t the school hire a professional agency?” Dustin asked.
I nodded, not that anyone was paying attention to me.
“Because,” Mackey stated, “I thought you all would appreciate the experience and opportunity to add to your portfolio. Being able to add a major campaign for the university is a pretty big deal.”
She wasn’t wrong. This class was about branding, and we were supposed to use all we learned from drawing, typography, and design courses to be able to create completely personalized and cohesive proposals for future clients and businesses. This was the best form of practice that we could get.
She hit a key and the presentation moved on, showing images of the various banners around campus. “We’re focusing on winter sports. Basketball, swimming, diving, wrestling, and hockey. I’ll divide the class into five sections and assign one to each group. I want each of you to come up with three concepts for your sport by class on Friday.” She announced.
I groaned along with half the students. Three professional-level concepts in two days? I guess this was like the real world when disorganized bosses and clients make unrealistic demands and you have to find a way to make it work. Usually by giving up sleeping, eating, or socializing. Since the last one wasn’t a priority for me, it was the first to go.
She walked to the far end of the room and counted off five people. “Basketball.” Then another five, “Swimming.” Five more, “Diving.” Next five, “Wrestling.” Oh no. No. No. No. “And you guys will do hockey.”
I shook my head, ready to raise my hand but she was already walking away. “I’m releasing you guys early so you can walk around and check out the current banners in-person to see the scale you’re working with and decide what you would improve on. The specific requirements are online. If you have any questions, reach out before Thursday night, please.”
The students around me started gathering their things, but I jumped out of my seat and hurried toward Mackey as she was packing up.
“Yes, Kennedy?” She watched me with narrowed eyes. It wasn’t like I was a troublemaker or anything, but I did have a reputation amid the department for being a bit . . . much. I just happened to be detail-focused and voiced my opinions. Apparently, some professors found it tiresome.
“May I please switch to a different sport?” I asked with my most charming smile, even batting my lashes for full effect.
She sighed and leaned a hip against the table. “And why would you like to do that?”
Because hockey is the devil’s sport and all the players are evil, selfish, rotten, despicable vermin? No, that’s mean to rats and mice. They’re more like snakes. Hidden dangers just waiting to strike out and tear into you with their venomous bite.
“Personal reasons.”
She cocked her head, “Kennedy, in the real world you're going to have to work with, and for, people you may not like.”
Sure, but until then I was in the pretend world where I didn’t have to.
“Will I have to actually talk to see or breathe the same air as any of the players?”
She started to smile, but quickly covered it and shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. You’ll have access to any logos or images you may need through the drive, so you won’t have to interact with anyone unless you’d like to.”
I shook my head. “Nope, that will not be happening.”
“That’s fine. I look forward to seeing your concepts on Friday.” She offered a curt nod before picking up her bag and leaving me alone in the room.
Maybe I could use some of my photoshop tricks to my advantage, or entertainment. I didn’t care about getting chosen for the project. I just needed a passing grade on the assignment. Let someone else deal with the athletic department.
I didn’t need the glory or extra padding on my resume. That would just be more work I couldn't handle.
Too bad my competitive streak wouldn’t accept losing. I dropped my head back and groaned. I needed to stop at the student store and stock up on energy drinks to get me through an all-nighter.