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"I don't know. He must be a badass if he handles the Kings in the east like his dad."
"You know what, you could be right. But what the hell do we know? He was already six years old around the time we were born, and don't know shit about what he is like. By the time we understood what was going on, he was into other shit."
I grab the latest MLA and APA manual for English class. "True."
We stand in line to pay. "Are you going to change the classes around?" She asks with a hopeful expression.
"I'll see what I can do, but it's probably too late.''
"When the dean sees it’s Elena Sincere, there isn't much they can do. Our grandfather is one of the founders of the Hillside University."
She isn't wrong. I can switch my classes, but I don't want to. People my think I'm crazy for wanting him, but he wasn't always like this with me. He was different.
In middle school, he hung out with me. Ate lunch with me. He would come to the house and stay late, helping me with my homework.
''I’ll see what I can do,'' I lie.
The next day in English class, Mia was right and should I have changed my schedule. Santi wouldn't look at me and made a point of flirting with a cheerleader I'd seen at basketball practice. It didn't take a genius to know he fucked her.
Anyone looking at them in the back row could tell. The way she leans into him and places her hand on his chest. He must have said something to her about me because her eyes shift myway followed by her annoying giggle. She covers her mouth so I can’t read her lips when she says something but he doesn’t have the balls to look at me.
Mia and the others think what he said throughout high school didn't hurt because I kept trying to win him over. I maintained the facade that I didn't care.
I concentrated on getting his attention in any way I could. I tried to wear the right dress. The right shade of lipstick. Fuss over my hair.
So he can admit that he found me pretty and ask me out.
Nothing worked. I dealt with the pain from his rejection secretly. I found a way no one would notice. A way no one could see because that is what strong people do. They don't show weakness. They hide their pain from everyone. They hold on to the little hope left inside and pray for it to disappear. For everything to change.
After class, I found I had some pride inside me somewhere, and I let hope take a back seat. After signing my name on the sheet to see Dean Richards, the door to his office opens.
"Elena Sincere," he says warmly, his gaze landing on my chest.
"Yes."
"What can I do for you?"
After letting him walk inside to his desk, I placed my Dior bag at my feet and sit in the chair in front of his desk. He pulls up my information on the computer and turns with a smile, his gaze landing on my chest, where it usually goes every time, I see him.
"How can I help you?"
According to the frames on the walls, Dean Richards is middle-aged and completed his doctorate here at Hillside University. He's wearing a grey double-breasted suit, blue silk tie, and horned-rimmed glasses. He dresses like an investment banker.
"There is a problem." Staring at the computer screen, he looks nervous, tapping the keys on the keyboard harder than necessary. "I wanted to talk about my classes."
"What about them?"
"I want to keep them, but the schedule might be an issue. I don't know what times are available or what time I can change them to until I go to each one first and see what is best for me. I just had English and want to change that one first."
"I see," he says, but I can tell he doesn't.
He thinks I'm wasting his time with my request, but he doesn't understand. No one does.
"I am going to go to every class this week and will be coming here for three days to switch my schedule around before the withdrawal date."
"Alright."
"What class was it you wanted to change today?"
