Trask texted me twice more. One for each day I missed that stupid English class. I didn’t respond.
And finally, Thursday morning, well before the sun was up, I heard the telltale slide of the chain lock and doorknob lock move and the shuffling of slippered feet down the hall. I launched out of bed, changed, packed my backpack, and raced to the bathroom before they could change their minds. We wouldn’t talk about it. Their little two-day escape from the world ended, and I was free to go. No words necessary.
I showered. It was always the best reset. Being clean and nice despite the surrounding chaos was something I craved. It was a control I had. Even in the winter, when sometimes the hot water heater wouldn’t work, I’d take pleasure in showering once or twice a day, letting the grime of my life wash down the drain. When I was finished, I raced to my Honda and drove to the campus, determined to get a decent parking spot, and determined to speak with my academic advisor before classes.
When I pulled into the parking garage, I felt a sense of pride return to me. My grandparents were good at sapping away the good things, reminding me of how fickle life was and not to get too comfortable. But here I had control. People didn’t know me, not really. Here I got to control my shit. And in this case, I was doing damage control for that stupid math class.
Every Friday we had a proctored, online quiz in class. And every unit we had an exam. And if the weight of those quizzes were anything to go by, I needed to do well on them. I read the syllabus and was disappointed to find that the online practice questions assigned for homework were only five percent of the grade. Most people opted not to do it unless they needed the practice. I needed practice and even more.
“Is there any sort of tutoring or help I can get?” I asked my academic advisor. It had taken me a few wrong turns to find the right building, but I still had time to spare. “Or is there another class instead of this one that I could take to fulfill the degree requirements?”
They informed me that no, there wasn’t another class I could take. But they also informed me that there was free tutoring in the Academic Center.Free!Free is one of my favorite words. Shayna would have been proud of me, advocating for myself and all that. She’d also skin my backside if she knew my grade in math.
I walked across the courtyard toward myEthics of Argumentclass, thankful the end of September weather was creeping in. It was sunny yet brisk, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me when the wind picked up and blew loose leaves from the trees.
“Eliza!” a deep voice called.
I flinched and stopped in my tracks. A large body collided with mine.
“Hey,” Trask said. “Where were you? Long time no see.”
“Hi,” I said, walking toward class. Trask fell into stride beside me and I couldn’t help but notice that even on his checkered flannel shirt, ink stained his sleeves.
“So, where were you?”
“Sick.” I shrugged, tearing my eyes away from his hands. “Did I miss anything?”
“Not really, he’s following the syllabus and course outline to the letter.”
“Great,” I said. “So next Monday I’ll have that essay written about the commercialization of education.”
He chuckled. “Actually, the topic is whether the SAT and ACT scores are effective tools to use.”
“That’s how you’re tackling it, I’m opting for an essay with substance and style.”
He rolled his eyes and opened the door to the building for me. “You mean drama. You seem to have a flair for the dramatic.”
We walked down the hall, through the crowd of people finding their lecture halls. “No,” I countered. “My essay will stand within the rubric guidelines but I have opted to look at the bigger picture, go beyond the ‘is this test necessary’ and dissect the mind of the people who create and perpetuate the tests. Who actually funds the tests, you know? Plus, I think it will get under his skin.”
He laughed and opened the door to the lecture hall. “You’re braver than I am. Just write what he wants to hear, save yourself the headache.”
“No.” I sat in my usual seat near the door. For half a second it looked like he was going to sit next to me, but someone called his name and I took the opportunity to put my backpack on the only available spot next to me. He looked back at me and then at his friends and Karina and made his way over to them.
He walked with the ease of someone who belonged here. Someone who knew what they wanted, someone who had this whole school and life thing figured out. He looked so put together, with straight teeth and bright eyes, flawless skin, and clothes that fit him so well. The only out-of-place thing was the ink stains and I couldn’t figure out why I liked that bit more than anything else
“Miss Walsh.”
My head snapped up. The professor looked at me with a smug smile at the edge of his lips. “So glad you could join us. We’ve missed you.”
“Thanks,” I said. There were a few chuckles and mumbles as the class quieted.
“Like I said. We missed you. Tell me, where were you? What was so interesting that you could justify missing two of the four classes this week?” His arms crossed over his chest. He reminded me of my grandpa, loving the power of guiding the conversation, and getting off on having an audience. He found power in humiliating others.
“No.”
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “I must confess I am surprised, you are so eloquent with your words. I find it strange that you can’t conjure a complete sentence.”
“‘No’is a complete sentence.” I rolled my eyes. “He has a Ph.D. in English Literature and I have to explain two-letter words to him.”