My mind scrambles, desperately trying to think back over the past few days, going over every snide word or bitchy comment I’ve possibly made or even thought to make, but I come up blank. Apart from the Spencer shit, I’ve been a perfect little angel.
The door of the classroom is closed behind the last student, shutting out all the noise with it, leaving me and Carver in awkward silence.
He steps up before me and wordlessly places my paper down on my desk. My eyes instantly drop and rake over the paper. The first thing I notice is the bright red marker at the top reading ‘A+.’
Holy shit. This is my test from the other day. I completely nailed it, but then, I shouldn’t be surprised. I always nail my science tests. It’s everything else that seems to go a little differently. But…why does he need to keep me after class to show me this? Normally, he just hands our tests back to us during class before going over it and explaining where we all went wrong. As usually, the rest of the class seem to fail pretty badly.
“What are your plans for the future, Henley?” Mr. Carver asks, sitting down on the desk in front of me.
I look up at him as confusion clouds my mind. “Ummm, what do you mean?” I question, wondering where the hell he could be going with this.
“What do you want to do after you graduate?” he clarifies. “Do you plan on attending college?”
I outright laugh at the poor guy. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to reign it in and focusing a little too hard on smothering my grin. I mean, is he for real right now? Surely, he understands what school he’s been teaching in the past few years. “College? No one from Haven Falls goes to college.”
“And why’s that?” he questions, giving me a strange, challenging look.
I thought the whole no college for Haven Falls was a well-known thing, especially by the teachers or maybe he’s actually asking my opinion. But then, maybe he’s trying to have one of those ‘serious’ talks that teachers often like to give out to sound important and inspiring. “Because, it just doesn’t happen,” I tell him, not really having a proper answer for his question. “Haven Falls’ kids don’t belong in college. We can’t afford it and we sure as hell don’t get the grades to make it happen.”
Mr. Carver nudges my test in front of me. “Really?” he questions. “Because that exam sitting in front of you says differently.”
I glance down at the test, my eyes raking over the A+. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that you’re selling yourself short,” he tells me before waiting a short moment, watching me curiously. “What is it that you want to do with your life, Henley? And don’t give me the bullshit answer that you most likely gave the guidance counselor.”
“I…,” I glance away.
“You want to study science in a professional capacity, don’t you?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, terrified that he’s trying to fill me with false hope. “What makes you say that?”
“Apart from the fact that I see what you’re like in my class, I looked up your grades,” he admits. “And you know what I found? They absolutely suck.” My eyes shoot up at him, ready to jump on the defense. “Yet, here you are getting A’s or A pluses on every one of my exams. Science intrigues you. I see the way you focus in class. I see your eyes light up each time we discuss an experiment. This is something you want, you just don’t know how to get it.”
I can hardly focus on what he’s saying. I don’t like where he’s going with this. This is a setup, one that could only cause me to fail and feel like shit about myself.
“You have the potential to make something of yourself, Henley,” he continues, “You’re throwing it away because of some ridiculous stereotypical bullshit that kids from Haven Falls preach to make failing acceptable.” He scoffs as though the very thought offends him. “Well, guess what?” he adds. “If you want it and you actually put a little effort into your classes, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to get into a good college. Broken Hill University to be exact. They have a great science program.”
I shake my head. This is too much. “Thanks for the thought, but you’re forgetting one little, very important thing.”
He waves his hand in front of himself, indicating for me to go on. “Please, do share.”
“College is expensive, and I don’t know about you, but in my household, a bit of spare cash means the bills get paid on time and I don’t have to shower in cold water. I know you haven’t been teaching here that long, but to the kids of Haven Falls, having a college fund is as rare as winning the freaking jackpot.”