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“No, I haven’t and neither has he,” I finally answer because I know the questions will not stop until Zoe gets what she wants. “I’m not in a rush. Besides, I prefer action over words. I’m good with where we are right now.”
And that’s absolutely true. Reagan does show me every day that he cares about me.
“That’s all good and fine, but I’ve been reading this book––” Zoe starts again.
“No,” I cut her off before she goes any further. “Nuh huh. No, thank you.”
“Just sayin’. I’ve got it. I’m happy to lend it to you. It’s chock-full of great advice. Like don’t become his hump toy.”
“Truth,” Blake chimes in. “I’ve read it. The author makes a lot of good points.”
“Like don’t ever say I love you first.”
“I don’t believe in any of that,” I tell them. “This isn’t a power struggle.”
Zoe tilts her head and smirks. “Isn’t it, though?”
Two days later I’m in the library, studying for finals, when I receive an inauspicious email from Professor Marshall asking me to meet with her. A knot immediately forms in my stomach. Naturally, I answer that I’m available right away. Whatever this is, best to deal with it immediately rather than to have to endure days of anxiety.
Marshall responds that she can see me now in her office located in the film and television building. Fifteen minutes later I find her at her desk, chair tipped back, watching my reel when I walk in. Her gray eyes lift to mine.
“Alice, come in,” she tells me in her usual brisk voice. Marshall has a face that even at rest looks like she’s in a bad mood, but who’s actually funny and sarcastic. She’s not at all as severe as she looks. It’s her accomplishments that intimidated the crap out of me.
I take the chair opposite her desk with more than a little trepidation. She leans forward in her desk and laces her fingers together and I know it’s going to be bad.
“I’ll get right to it. I’m not going to be able to submit your reel for the James Cameron internship. It’s come to my attention that this was produced with outside funds, and as you know, that’s one of the stipulations. We insist it be funded entirely by the students. If we allowed outside funding, it would get out of hand quickly. People would raise money with GoFundMe accounts, private investments, etc. The budgets would skyrocket. It wouldn’t be an even playing field. Frankly, I don’t think it’s one now, but it’s the best we can do.”
I’m stunned. “I…uh, Professor Marshall. This was funded entirely by me. The camera equipment I own outright.”
“This is shot with a Blackmagic. You want me to believe you own this equipment?”
“I’ve spent years saving up to buy this equipment.” An angry, startled burst of laughter escapes me. “I can show you the receipts. And as for the reel, yes, the athletics department is paying for it now. Coach Becker liked it so much he only decided to purchase it after I shot and produced it. So it was all shot on my time, with my equipment. None of it was funded by outside money.”
Marshall’s wide mouth purses. “I’m sorry Alice. One whiff that I accepted work that was purchased by the school, whether they supplied the funds or not,” she adds quickly as I’m about to argue. “will reflect badly on me and the program.”
“So that’s it? I’m being punished because someone decided to purchase my work?”
“You’re not being punished. I need to maintain the integrity of the program…for what it’s worth this is very good work.”
Very good work? That’s cold comfort. My shoulders fall in defeat. I don’t remember being this disappointment in a long time.
“Let me talk to Becker…I’m not promising anything, but I’ll look into it before I make a final decision.”
“Okay,” I mutter as I get to my feet, gather my book bag, and sling it over my shoulder. I make it to the threshold of her door when she says, “There’s always next year.”
Yes, there is. But right now, I’m devastated.
Chapter 26
Alice
Ever try to buy a plane ticket right before Christmas? Yeah, super expensive.
“I’ll pay for the ticket,” my mother insists. The time on my laptop reads 11 p.m.
“Are you home yet?” My dad always stays up waiting for her when she works a night shift. We live in a pretty safe neighborhood, but my mother works in Newark so the commute takes her through a rough area. We worry.
“No. I just punched out.”
I close my laptop and place it on my nightstand. I’m taking two finals tomorrow, and if I’d stayed at Rea’s, no studying was happening, which is why I’m sleeping in my dorm tonight.
“You always say that and you know how guilty it makes me feel. We knew the next two years were going to be hard when I left. We talked about me not being able to come home.”
