Page 2 of Apolonia

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I waited for him to admit his disgust, but he offered a small smile.

“It’s unique and wild and interesting. Just like you.”

“Thanks,” I said, resentful that he forced me to be nice to him.

He pulled his arms out of his jacket, revealing his perfectly ironed white oxford. Maybe, if the sleeves had been rolled up, I would have forgiven him, but no, they were buttoned at the wrist.

“You could shave it all off and still be beautiful,” he said.

“I thought about it.”

Benji chuckled and looked down. Any other girl at Kempton would have jumped at the chance to date him. It wasn’t that he was unattractive—quite the opposite. We’d had other classes together, and he was one of Kempton’s brightest students. It wasn’t even that he was dull because sometimes he made me laugh. I guessed I was just waiting for something…different.

Dr. Z was lost in the mess of papers on his desk, and I was glad. The room had already begun to fill, and I didn’t want him to make a scene when he greeted me. He was kind but excited about life in general, and I wasn’t in the mood for that. But as I relaxed against the back of my seat, his head popped up.

“Rory! I almost didn’t recognize you! I just sent you an email! Did you get it?”

Everyone turned to see whom the professor was addressing.

“No,” I said quietly, sinking into my seat.

Dr. Z, small and plump with just a bit of silver hair circling the midsection of his scalp that matched his unkempt beard, watched me expectantly.

I pressed my lips together and then bent over to my bag, pulling out my laptop. He obviously wasn’t going to let this go. The computer lit up, and I navigated my way to my inbox.

Nodding to Dr. Z didn’t satisfy him. His eyes widened, and he nodded his head, encouraging me to continue.

I ran my fingers over the trackpad and clicked on the message he’d sent with the subject line, OPEN NOW. The email contained line after line of data he’d compiled over the weekend from the unimpressive rock. After scanning the bulk of it, I nodded once.

He seemed sufficiently satisfied. “We’ll talk more tonight.”

A small twinge of guilt panged in my chest. The disappointment in his eyes was evident, but it was a rock. Granted, its material hadn’t been recorded on Earth, ever, so that meant it had come from somewhere in the universe. An alien rock. If we still thought the world was flat or if we weren’t aware of the surrounding universe, I could understand Dr. Z’s excitement, but as it was, it was…boring.

Dr. Z, however, was very excitable and, at times, dramatic. This particular email ended with, Secrecy is imperative.

Secrets I could handle. Gossip wasn’t a problem. Typing was easy. Listening to his incessant enthusiasm about markings on a rock until three a.m. and then being alert for an eight a.m. course…not so much.

“Cyrus!” Dr. Z said loud enough to catch my attention. “We can talk about your request to be a research assistant after class.”

What the hell? I’m his research assistant.

I looked in the same direction as Dr. Z to a pair of dark topaz eyes surrounded by olive skin. The male gender wasn’t something I was preoccupied with, so the twinge I felt in my stomach took me by surprise. It didn’t matter. I already hated him.

Cyrus sat in the first row, directly in front of Dr. Z. He was so ordinary. He wore a red-and-navy-blue plaid shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and tan cargo pants. I couldn’t see his shoes, but I imagined him wearing a stupid pair of brown hiking sneakers. His clothes gave him a casual look, but it seemed forced. He seemed forced—his movements, his expressions—as if he were trying too hard to blend in. I couldn’t stop staring at the back of his head, noticing every strand of his dark hair, admiring him and wishing for his sudden death at the same time.

“Welcome!” Dr. Z began. “I am Dr. A. Byron Zorba, and you’ve arrived at Geobiology and Astrobiology…uh…with lab. That’s a separate class. Uh…later,” he added. “You should also be enrolled in the lab, separately from lecture. If not, see administration. So! Here, and in the partnering lab, you will study organic matter from microbes, rocks, and environmental samples. In lab, you’ll extract and, more importantly, interpret these samples. Beyond that, we will reconstruct ancient environments to understand how life evolved within the samples.”

“Yeesh,” Benji whispered.

“It’s really not that bad. Don’t be a baby,” I said, keeping my voice low, as the professor went over the rules and syllabus.

“I’m still running in the mornings,” Benji said. “You should come with me sometime.”

“I don’t run.”

“It’s good for you. You should try it.”

“I’m not getting up at the crack of dawn to run until I stop freezing. That’s not healthy. It’s stupid.”

Benji just smiled, clearly amused.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Cyrus said, holding his pen in the air. “Whom shall I contact—”

I blocked out the rest of his question. The trace of a British accent in his voice and his perfect grammar would never have piqued my attention before, but on that day, it was annoying and snooty.

Not only was Cyrus tall, dark, and handsome, but as class progressed, he also proved to be Dr. Z’s most adept and eager student.

Dr. Z paused after answering Cy's latest question. “May I ask…from where do you hail?”

“Excuse me?” Cyrus responded.

“I was curious to know if you happen to be Egyptian?” the professor asked.

I didn’t know what expression was on Cyrus’s face, but he must have smiled because Dr. Z clapped his hands once, and a wide grin made his already full cheeks puff out.

Dr. Z patted Cyrus’s shoulder and shook his finger a few times. “We’ll have much to talk about. See me after class.”

“Oh Christ, get a room,” I snarled under my breath.

The professor’s hobby was trying his hardest to be an Egyptian scholar. I thought maybe Cyrus’s origin was the reason for Dr. Z’s fascination, but that didn’t turn out to be it at all. Cyrus never answered the questions that Dr. Z presented to the class, but he asked at least a dozen of his own. He was curious, and I couldn’t deny that his questions were a work of art.

Dr. Z answered a few questions before lecturing for just ten minutes, giving us a reading assignment, and then waving us away, twenty minutes earlier than expected.


Tags: Jamie McGuire Science Fiction