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Recognition flashes in his face, and I brace.
“Ah, so now I can put a face to the name of the only student failing my class.” He lets out a heavy sigh and removes his dark-rimmed glasses, setting them down. “What can I do for you, Ms. Everett?”
“I was hoping that there’d be something I could do to make up for the homework assignments that I didn’t turn in—like some sort of extra credit to bring my grade up...” Desperation is so clear in my voice. Because Iamdesperate.
I can’t fail.
If I fail this class, I fail as a student and as a person. But worse than that, I fail as a sister.
Dr. Banks purses his lips, going quiet for a few beats. But then he looks up at me, shaking his head. “I don’t make exceptions for lazy students.”
My mouth drops open. “I’m not lazy.”
He chuckles, like somehow his insult isfunny.“Any student that repeatedly fails to turn in homework seems to fit that bill, if you ask me.”
“I’m... I...”
He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t even care.
“I amnotlazy,” I blurt out again, growing hot in the face. “I work two jobs, and your class has so much homework that I just can’t keep up with it.”
He just looks at me. “Ms. Everett, I can’t make exceptions for anyone, because that would mean I’d then have to do that foreveryone.”
He scoffs. “Besides, I’ve heard a lot of excuses over the years, I’ve also heard every lie in the book, though yours is quite original, I have to say. A little twist with the two jobs instead of just the one I usually get.”
I shake my head, fighting to hold back tears. “I’m not lying. Please. I can’t fail this class.”
“Then you should’ve done your homework.” His eyes bore into mine, and his entire demeanor is unmoving.
Word around campus is that he is as understanding as a brick wall. Now it is even more clear why.
My shoulders sag.
My watch alarm goes off.
Great.
“Looks like you have somewhere to be, as do I. I’m not changing my mind, so there’s no need to continue to stand here and waste my time. By now, you could’ve been done reading the notes that I posted on the portal.” His tone is flat. Not condescending, not sympathetic. No feelings at all.
“Okay, well, thanks anyway,” I mutter, spinning around and heading for the door, clutching my laptop and notebook to my chest.
“You shouldreally read over the notes,” Dr. Banks says after me.
I roll my eyes, not offering anything in return.
I’ll read over the notes, but only because I know there’s probably going to be a pop quiz over them on Thursday.
There almostalwaysis.
I usually do well on them, though.
My grade is not about the reading or the in-class work. It’s just the homework—the endless essays, discussions, and summaries, all due on top of each other. I don’t know how anyone does it, let alone anyone who has to work two jobs and take care of a brother in the process.
Maybe if I ace everything from here to the end of the semester, I can pull my grade up to a C.
Who am I kidding? If that were possible, I’d been doing it all along. I’m doomed.
I head out of the classroom and out of the building, making the cold walk to my car parked in the student lot. My ride is a couple of years older than me, but driving a twenty-five-year-old car is the least of my worries right now.
