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I start to pass her, and she laughs. “Am I that unforgettable?”
Fuck, I think as another girl occupies the seat I was heading to.
Well, I guess this is where I’m landing.
I pull out the earbud I wear so that I can ignore people without seeming to be rude as I smile and point to the seat next to … shit, I have no clue what her name is. “Seat free?”
She smiles and speaks as she signs, “If you turned down the volume, you may be able to hear what’s going on around you.”
“Gina.” I laugh when I realize who it is I was avoiding.
She signs as she speaks, “New Year, new me.” She points to my hair. “You, too, I see.”
I set my bag and book down and sign, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She signs back, “Try me.”
I do the best I can to sign as I speak. “It involves a flight from hell, a two-year-old named Chloe, her pregnant mother, a father who drugs himself to fly, gum, a good Samaritan act that ended with me and a shit haircut.”
She laughs.
“You look good, G, and you sound amazing.”
She pushes back her hair. “New ears, too.”
I lean in and give her a huge hug. “That’s great.”
“Good morning and welcome back to Lincoln University. I’m Dr. Isabel Sinclair, and this is History 403. If you’re in the wrong lecture hall, make your escape now, because we’re here for two hours, and those doors should be considered locked.”
A few students leave, and she waits before saying, “Wow.”
The room collectively chuckles.
She steps up to the podium. “As an upper-level class, it should not be necessary to explain that this is a university and not high school. My job security is not based on your test grades. What knowledge I share with you, and yes, often times learn from my students, should be used to empower us all. I find it best to give you my expectations from day one so that you have time to drop the class if you aren’t willing to commit to learning. My PA will even give you a list of classes that won’t be as taxing, that still fulfill your requirements, after the class if you ask.” She looks around, and her eyes fall on me. “You’re an athlete.”
I nod. “I am.”
“Humor me?” she asks, and I nod. “Can you name ten Unites States presidents.”
“I can.” I try not to smirk.
“All right Mr. …?”
“Rivera, Theo Rivera. George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jacksons, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, and John Taylor are the first ten. Hurst was only president for thirty-two days, so I’ll add James Polk for good measure.”
She arches a brow as if I’m challenging her, which is probably bad on my part, but if I know anything, I know my presidents.
“How many presidential elections have brought the American’s a new president?”
“Trick question, Dr. Sinclair, as we’ve had forty-six presidencies, but only forty-five men have served in that office.”
She nods. “Can you name who that was?”
“Grover Cleveland was number twenty-two and twenty-four.”
“Impressive.”
“Not really,” I admit with a chuckle.
