What's in a Name?

Things went on like that for a little while. Eventually, I learned her name by figuring out which binder was hers, because asking would have been too easy. Conveniently, it had her name in gian letters written across the front. We had become what I like to call classroom friends. We talked and hung out when we had class together, but other than that, we had no contact. To me, she was just another college student, taking the practicum class on a whim or for a few extra credits.
One day, Brad, one of the other students, asked me to drive him to his class on one of the training room golf carts. the golf carts where officially for the head trainers' use only, taking them and various sport supplies to and from the athletic events around the campus. Unofficially, the students in the practicum class used them to drop each other off at class, their cars and the different food vendors around the school. So it wasn't an unusual thing for Brad to ask or for me to oblige.
As I was collecting the keys and telling one of the trainers I was borrowing the cart, Ash asked if she could get a ride as well. Sure, why not? Ash drove with Brad riding shotgun and I rode in the back. The ride was uneventful: Brad talked to me about stupid things that I only had half an interest in. When we stopped at the edge of one of the parking lots next to the main street, I did what I always do when I'm dropping a stranger off that their car- I tried to guess which car belonged to said stranger. Nothing stood out to me, so I asked where she was parked. at this point, Brad spoke up with the first truly interesting thing he had said all day, "She is going to the high school." The high school across the street? Wow. Uh, ok. I'll let you get going girl-who-I-thought-was-my-age-but-I-now-know-is-still-in-high-school. Your really how old? 17? That's funny, you don't really look it. See you next week.

Blood, Sweat and...Cards?

If you asked her, she would say that we had met in the fall 2008 semester, but I don't remember meeting her then to be honest. She told the story of how I would come into the training room after basketball class (college credit for playing pick up games). She said she asked me whether I needed anything, assuming I was an athlete for the college and not someone who worked in the training room. I brushed her off and went to get myself bags of ice to treat the variety of injuries I get when I play.

She is probably telling the truth, cause that does sound a lot like me after ball. What I remember, however, is meeting her the next semester. Same place, training room, just not right after I ran up and down a court for 2 hours. See, the college offers a class called sports medicine practicum, in it, a student helps out in the training room by taping athletes, hooking them up to muscle stim, doing ultra-sound treatments and other sporty-healy stuff. The thing about that is, the athletes all have pretty much the same schedual: school in the morning and practice in the afternoon. Their practices all started around 3ish, so if you came in during the time period from 10am to noon, there wasn't a whole lot to do.

Being good, dedicated students, the dozen of use just played cards. Thirteen, Egyptian war and poker. Poker was played using rolls of tape that had been used to a point of uselessness; we called them tape ends. The game of choice was almost exclusively hold'em. But Ash didn't know how to play hold'em, and that led to my first ever memory of her: speed.

Speed the card game. It started with both of us being bored. I didn't know her name, and I dont think she cared enough to know mine. She was very competitive and I wasn't just going to loose on purpose because she didn't have something dangling between her legs. I lost more than I won when we played, but I have a hunch that she cheated on some of those games. I didn't really care, it was all good in the training room.