Sara lugged the last cardboard box up the stairs to her second floor apartment and set it in the kitchen. She took a moment to catch her breath as she surveyed her apartment. Just about every inch of open floor, table, counter, or chair was covered in boxes bursting at the seams with stuff. Her living room and dining room were both packed full.
Four years ago when Sara first moved to Vegas, it was expected to be temporary. She'd brought a minimal amount of possessions with her to avoid having to deal with the extra packing. Instead, by renting a furnished apartment, everything was set. Then, when the Vegas arrangement became more permanent, she had a friend pack up all of her things and send them to her. Sara had always meant to unpack properly, but one thing led to another, work got busy, and she never really got around to unpacking. So, everything just sat in storage gathering dust.
Her current household ambition had little to do with wanting her home to look like a home. Even without the boxes everywhere her apartment had the feel of someone who was moving out soon. Her real motivation was to not have to pay the extra forty-five dollars a month for the storage space to keep it all.
Her goal was to spend her entire day off emptying out all of the boxes, sorting out what she really wanted to keep, and what she could donate to charity. She figured that it wouldn't take more than one day to finish her task. After all, if she'd survived for the last four years without the junk packed up in the boxes spread out in front of her, she could probably do just fine without it forever.
Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge she plopped down on an empty square of carpet and dug into the nearest box. Ripping open the lid she smiled to herself. Seeing a pair of pink and black-checkered leggings she let out a chuckle.
They'd belonged to her roommate her first semester in college. Jessi was a junior, still living in the dorms only because her financial aid required it. She thought she was the epitome of cool, but truthfully she was always about five years behind in the latest styles. Not that it really affected her at all; Jessi had one of those personalities that just drew people to her, like metal shavings to the magnet in her old magna-doodle toy. Like a pack of hungry children to a plate of fresh baked cookies…
"Like bees to honey!" exclaimed Jessi, slamming the door behind her in her excitement.
Looking up from the book she was reading, Sara gave her roommate a once over. Jessi was quite a sight. Standing just shy of six feet tall with dyed, flame red hair, she had a tendency to wear clothes that drew stares from everyone around her, and she reveled in the attention. She was the center of her own universe, but somehow, she never came off as conceded or full of herself. Jessi was just happy and outgoing and confident in who she was. She was everything Sara wanted to be, minus the wardrobe. Sara was quite the opposite. Having spent the last eighteen years of her life as a bit of an outcast, she was used to blending into the woodwork.
"Put down the book and get dressed, we're going to a party," Jessi said, interrupting her thoughts.
"A party?" Sara echoed, apprehension apparent in her voice.
"Yes. Your extremely intelligent and well connected room mate just arranged a killer party at someone else's house."
"And how, pray tell, did you do that?" Sara asked, smiling.
"I told Steve you would be there and he agreed to host," Jessi replied with a mischievous grin.
The color drained from Sara's cheeks and with her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "What?"
"Relax," Jessi said, laughing and throwing a heart shaped pillow at her friend. "I did nothing of the sort. But he is hosting the party, and I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."
Sara rolled her eyes, grabbed her bathroom bucket and turned to make her way down the hall for a shower. She knew there was no arguing with Jessi when her mind was made up, and Sara really did enjoy going out to parties with her.
For the first time in her life she felt like she belonged somewhere. She never fit in at home. Not at school, not with her family, not anywhere. But here she did. Here people understood that studying did not make you a freak of nature. That reading books really can be fun. And in turn she learned that it's ok to cut loose sometimes and go to a few parties, make friends, even date a little…
"Earth to Sara," Jessi said, waving her hand in front of Sara's face. "Where are you? Dreaming about Steve?"
Sara playfully swatted her on the shoulder as she made her way to the door. "Oh shush up and let me get ready."
Jessi let out a squeal of delight and flung open the doors to Sara's closet. "Great! I'll pick out your wardrobe!"
"Not a chance, Jessi. I don't want to end up wearing something that might blind him."
Jessi slumped down into a chair with an exaggerated pout. "Fine, be that way. But at least wear something that's not black…ok?"
"Deal," said Sara over her shoulder as she made her way off down the hall.
Sara had a lot of fond memories from that semester of college. It was too bad that Jessi transferred schools that spring to be closer to her boyfriend. She had changed Sara's life, that was for sure. Even after Jessi moved, Sara was still going to parties; she made friends, and dated. She thought of that semester as her awakening.
Sara was still smiling as she lugged the entire box to the donation pile. She didn't think Jessi would mind losing a box of bad 80s clothes, and Sara sure wasn't going to wear them. She'd never been accused of being a fashion plate, but those leggings were just too much. Briefly she wondered how her coworkers would respond if she showed up to work one day wearing them. They would probably have her committed.
Turning back to the living room she stood with hands on her hips. If every box was going to be such a trip down memory lane, this was going to take a whole lot longer than she'd originally thought.
With a sigh, Sara flopped down on the couch and dug into the box of books sitting on the coffee table in front of her. 'Books won't take as long to sort through,' she thought. Most of them would be kept and filed on the bookshelf to gather dust.
Sara had a real problem getting rid of old books. No matter how outdated the information in them, she still wanted to hang onto them. 'You never know when they might come in handy,' she thought. This particular box was full of textbooks, mostly from grad school.
Grabbing an armload of books she gingerly made her way over to her bookcases, trying to navigate through the maze of boxes on the floor. Three steps before she would have made it to the shelves, she tripped on a box, spilling the books all over the floor and banging her head on the corner of the bookcase.
"Ouch!" she gasped, as her fingers lightly touched the tender bump. Pulling her fingers away she saw a little red on them…blood. 'Just a scratch,' she thought, as she reached down to start picking up the books. A folded piece of paper caught her attention and she paused to open it. It was part of a test, an essay test from the forensics seminar that she'd taken in grad school. Grissom had been the teacher. Sara looked at the red writing at the bottom of the last page.
'Truly wonderful essay. I am particularly interested in your analysis of the second crime scene. It was very thorough and well thought out. Have you considered a career in forensics? I would be happy to recommend you for an internship if you chose to go that route.'
Sara smiled to herself. That was rare praise from the great Dr. Grissom. Everyone else that she knew in the class had struggled. No matter how detailed you thought you were, how much coverage you had, how many angles you had considered, he would always find one more. Or two more. Or three…
"Bastard," mumbled Jeff, dropping his books on the table with a thud. A few of the other library patrons glared at him disapprovingly as he dropped into his seat.
Sara looked up at her friend and smiled. "You just say that because you got a bad grade on the last test. If you just applied yourself more…"
He held up a hand to stop her. "Not just the last test, the one before that, and the one before that. That Dr. Grissom is one hell of a tough grader."
Sara shrugged and looked back down at the notes in front of her. "He's fair."
"Yeah, if I was the teacher's pet I might think that too."
Sara frowned. "I'm not the teachers pet."
"Sure you are, nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, he's rather good looking. If I wasn't madly in love with Ryan I might try to flirt my way to a better grade," he added with a smile.
"You think he's gay?" she asked.
"Nah, don't worry, I don't get the 'vibe' from him. You still have a chance." She stuck her tongue out at him and pushed a book across the table. "Why don't you study something?"
Going back to her notes she didn't notice Jeff pull a note out of the front cover of one of her books and begin to read it aloud. "I would be available to meet with you outside of class if you would like to improve on your final project, it does have potential…Sara, are you dating the teacher?"
Sara looked up in horror. She hadn't meant him to see that. "Give me that!" she hissed, making a desperate attempt to grab the note from his hand, and failing miserably.
"Sara's dating the teacher…Sara's dating the teacher," Jeff said in an annoyingly singsong voice, waiving the note in the air, just out of her reach.
"Give me that or I will kill you…and I am way better at forensics than you are so don't think I couldn't figure out how to hide a body."
"Now Miss Sidle, no one can hide a body without leaving some evidence, surely you know that?" came a voice from behind her. Slowly Sara turned and saw Dr. Grissom standing there. How long had he been listening? She turned her head again to glare at Jeff, who shrugged and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He hadn't seen Grissom approaching either.
"Hi, Dr. Grissom," she said, unconsciously wiping the palms of her hands on her jeans. Somehow they had become inexplicably sweaty…
"I'm glad you're here. I was looking for you," Grissom said, apparently oblivious to her nervousness.
'He was looking for me?' she thought.
"I was wondering if you had given any consideration to my offer of collaboration on the next phase of your final project. It would, of course, just be extra credit. You have more than met the expectations for your project."
"Um, yeah," Sara said, at a loss for words. "I'd like that."
Grissom smiled at her. She was very glad she was sitting, or her knees would have given out at that moment. "Wonderful," he said. "How about tomorrow here in the library at, say, seven? I'll reserve one of the study rooms so we won't be interrupted."
"Great," Sara said, swallowing an enormous lump in her throat.
As Grissom walked away, a singsong voice behind Sara started up again, "Sara's dating the teacher…Sara's dating the teacher…Sara's dating the teacher…"
Snapping back to the present, Sara looked around her at the piles of forensics textbooks and old tests graded by the one and only Grissom. She was all but lost in nostalgia, the bump on her head completely forgotten. She might have sat there all day looking through her old school things if the doorbell hadn't interrupted her.