Up in the Trees

II. From a distance, the tree looks totally climbable. But, as usual, I always underestimate how short I am.

Hm. This could be potentially embarrassing.

I look back at my two friends sitting on the ledge alongside a neatly trimmed grassy patch near the Physical Sciences South building. They are writing away furiously, with as much energy as two hamsters racing each other on their exercise wheels in the middle of the night.

"I don't think I'm tall enough," I call out.

"Do you want a boost?" Adam asks.

III. I can't find any sort of foothold, or even so much as a branch or nub to grab a hold of.

Shit, shit, shit, I think, as Adam places his hands under my left foot.

Up I go, straight up, and now I have nowhere to stay. I claw at the middle of the tree where the branches begin to spread out, but to no avail.

"Dammit, there's nothing for me to hold on to."

My legs flail about, scraping the tree trunk, and my body squirms the way a cat squirms when you hold it down while trying to give it a bath.

Next thing I know, my ass is being lifted up and I know there's no turning back now.

One, two, three -I hoist myself up and scramble on to the tree. Awesome. All this to eavesdrop on two engineers playing Frisbee.

IV. "Everytime I talk to him, I feel -----" the young man's voice drops as the wind picks up, making it difficult to hear the end of his sentence.

He is a bulky sort of guy, with blonde hair and a thin line of u-shaped facial hair on his cheeks and chin. Wearing a white t-shirt, hooded black jacket, and jeans, he stands casually with one knee bent whenever he isn't throwing the Frisbee.

His friend, whose back is turned towards me, has a similar build, also blonde hair, but he wears a black t-shirt with his jeans. He is impossible to hear.

V. It occurs to me as I write this that I sound at least a little creepy.

VI. "He's too much into making money," the first blonde engineer says.

I decide not to listen anymore.

I notice a young Asian man walking under my tree. He fits the stereotype of an engineer: glasses, short black hair neatly combed, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved navy shirt, and carrying two books. He looks up at me, quizzically at first, then amused. He smiles. The other two engineers stop playing Frisbee and leave.