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“Your tests are graded,” he says, moving to the first row of tables. “I have to say, some of you did better than I expected. Some of you,” he hesitates as he works to separate someone’s test, “did not.”
He talks and students mumble as he moves down the length of the table, then switches rows to the one I’m sitting on. I barely remember having had a test. I hope I did okay. Math 410 is a required class for my degree, I can’t afford to fail it, especially with my scholarships already on the line. If I fail this class, I lose my scholarships.
“As I am sure you are all aware, this is the end of the semester. I will say, if you are unhappy with your grade,” he says, moving closer. As he approaches my stomach churns and bile burns up my throat, “I will be holding office hours from three to six today. Some of you should really consider showing up.”
He lays my test facedown in front of me. The bright white eighty-pound paper taunts me from its cockeyed position on the desk. The professor gives me a side-eyed look before he moves on to the next student.
My arm is heavy. Too heavy to move. A ridiculous apprehension comes with an impending sense of doom that I thought I’d escaped. I’d made a decision. That’s what they all wanted; I’d decided. Granted, I decided to not do anything, to ignore it all, but it’s a decision, right?
A sharp inhale and I grab the edge of the stapled papers and flip them over in a single motion. The ginormous red F with a concentric circle around it glares at me. It looks like the Eye of Sauron, burning into my head for having dared to look. I’ve been found. Caught out.
Right as I thought life was coming together, it falls apart again.
ChapterSixteen
Crushingmy books to my chest I hurry across the quad and out towards the green. I keep my head down, letting my hair hang in my face. I don’t want anyone to see me crying. I can’t deal with people. Not right now. The questions, the concern, the intrusion would be too much. I let the tears flow and force myself to not sob by holding my breath.
Once I’m off the quad there aren’t so many people around. I let out my held breath and sob, shaking my head. I find one of the alcoves with the stone benches and sit, facing the neatly trimmed but tall bushes.
It’s okay to feel sorry for myself. I have every reason in the world to. I’ve held all this up on my own for as long as I can. It’s not only the flunk and it’s not only losing college or even losing Duncan. I’m losing my dad too. There is a depth of grief and loss there that I can’t even think about. It feels like I’m looking into a dark abyss and if I look too long, I know if I fall in it will swallow me.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whisper.
A raven caws. Damn it. I rub my face with the palms of my hands, trying to hide my tears. I know that call. Feathers rustle and then the enormous black bird lands on the bench next to me. It tilts its head, staring with that beady black eye that reflects a distorted version of my face back.
“What?”
It opens its beak but doesn’t make a sound. I shrug, shake my head, and it bobs its head. It partially opens its wings and hops from foot to foot.
“I don’t speak bird.” I look up from the raven and around the area. “Wherever you are, Dugald, step out. I don’t have time for these games.”
“No, you don’t,” Dugald says, stepping out of the shadows between the bushes.
“I already told the Druid; I’m done with all of you.”
“I heard.”
He doesn’t say anything more. I wait for it. Expecting him to argue, to tell me I’m stupid, or I’m not looking, or to decide, or something. Instead he leaves me waiting. And waiting. Waiting until the waiting itself gets on my nerves.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to talk me out of it? Tell me I’m wrong? Show me how stupid I am?”
“No,” he says softly. “I’ve never thought you were stupid, Quinn.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Then I am sorry for that. It was never my intention.”
I’m trying to be angry. I want to yell at him, but he’s making it hard by not fighting back.
“Fine,” I huff. “Apology accepted.”
I feel my shoulders relax and stare at the ground by his feet. The green grass doesn’t seem as thick as it once did. It’s a bit thin. I watch an ant crawling up a blade, then race back down like its lost. Dugald moves over and sits on the bench beside me without asking. I’m not going to complain. Even though I won’t say it out loud, I kind of like it. His presence is comforting.
“You have decided,” he says.
