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Chapter 10
Halfway through Allison’s first semester at Brown, her Introduction to Literary Studies professor had set a flyer on her desk.
The paper had been thick and cream in color, the letters embossed in gold. It had looked more like a wedding invitation than an academic announcement: something special, distinctive, important. Allison’s hands had begun to sweat as she gripped it between her fingers.
At the top it readBrown University’s Rising Star Award.Below that was a call for “all students, sophomores through seniors, interested in pursuing advanced degrees, with a focus on joining the academy.” It might as well have been addressed directly to her. Allison, even as an eighteen-year-old, had known a life in academia was what she wanted.
Her teacher tapped the center of the sheet, a smile lighting up her face. “Keep this on your radar,” she’d said. “I think you’ll be a shoo-in.” Allison couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t give a copy to anyone else in the room.
She tucked the sheet carefully into her binder and, when she got back to her dorm, pinned it to her aspirations board. For the rest of the year, she read it over every morning, memorizing the requirements. Tucking the honors that came along with it deep into her heart.
Each year, the recipient of the Rising Star traveled to the Undergraduate Scholars Symposium as Brown’s representative to present a paper that was then published in the Symposium’s academic journal. Those two things alone would have been enough to catapult Allison onto the acceptance list of any grad school she applied to, but there was also a ten-thousand-dollar cash prize. Jed had just moved out, and the divorce lawyer was costing Allison’s mother a fortune. Ten thousand dollars would have offered them both some breathing room. And it would have saved Allison from needing to find a job on campus, allowing her to channel all her energy into her academics.
It was everything she could ever hope for rolled up into one perfect accolade.
As soon as sophomore year arrived, Allison dug into the application. The process was intense, requiring not only a personal statement and a sample essay, but an original piece of writing on that year’s topic. Between January and March, she did little besides write, revise, and obsessively review her materials. She was behind in all her classes, but confident she’d catch back up once her application was submitted.
From the beginning of their relationship, Colin had shown no interest in the award, a fact so surprising that Allison was still asking him about it a week before the deadline.
They’d been sitting in the dining hall, both still groggy from too little sleep, and he’d waved one of his long hands over his plate of toast as he shook his head, adamant. “The last thing I need after drafting ten Ph.D. program applications is another demanding submissions process. This one’s all yours.”
As if to prove he meant it, he became an unwavering pillar of support in those final days, providing endless rounds of feedback on Allison’s materials, taking charge of late-night snack and coffee runs, and offering her a comfortable (yet bony) shoulder to nap on. For once, they’d really felt like a team committed to the same goal: her success.
Allison had never been so confident as she was when she’d hit send on that application. It represented her best writing and, even more important, her best thinking. Her reading of Beatrice from Dante’sParadisowas definitely a graduate-level analysis. As a college sophomore.
What was she, if not a Rising Star?
The day the recipient and runner-up were announced was more stressful for her than college decision day. Her future, her dreams, seemed to totter on the tip of a blade. What would happen if she didn’t win? If she didn’t have the publication to lean on? If she didn’t get the money to help her mom? This award seemed like the most perfect path—maybe the only path—forward for her.
In the end, Allison’s name had, indeed, appeared on the announcement. But in second place.
Above it sat the recipient of that year’s award.
Colin Benjamin.
He’d never intended to get out of her way. Instead, he’d been an iceberg lying in wait for theTitanicto smack into it.
And now he was doing it again.
That was all Allison could think as she sat in British Literature’s Greatest Hits the day after their lunch with Wendy. For the second time, Colin was scheming to steal something from her that he hadn’t worked for and didn’t deserve. Anger churned like an acidic pit at Allison’s center.
Beside her, Colin scratched notes into his book like he was etching them in stone. More than once, the margins of his anthology tore under the force of his pen. No wonder all the books he’d borrowed from Allison when they were dating came back looking like they’d survived an apocalypse. He had no respect for Johannes Gutenberg’s legacy.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.The sound crawled its way up her spine like slowly creeping fingers.
Scooting her chair farther down the table, she whisper-hissed, “Where’s your laptop?”
Colin’s eyes scanned the stanzas ofBeowulflying open in front of him. “I like writing directly next to the passages when we’re analyzing texts.”
Allison’s books were too marked up with her own ideas to add anything new during class. Course notes required their own binder. Which was preferable, honestly. She liked to preserve her interpretations separately to ensure her arguments were original. But perhaps Colin didn’t read closely enough to spark his own analyses. The thought puffed up her proverbial feathers. Yet another reason why she was bound to win the advisee position.
On the dais across from them, Wendy glanced at her watch. “We have about twenty minutes left, and I’ve done enough talking for the day. I want to hear from you all.” She flourished her hands toward the students, her bangles (pink and gold today) singing.
Allison cast her eyes out over the stadium seating. More of the students’ faces were familiar thanks to her recitations, and everyone she recognized sat as silently here as they had each Friday in her class. Maybe she wasn’t the cause after all (or at least not entirely).
Another ten seconds of quiet passed, then she raised her hand. Time to show Wendy her initiative (and gain herself a few extra points in thatwincolumn).
Her professor smiled at Allison and nodded.
