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Me
I won’t be in class tomorrow.
Mr. Donovan
Then you’ll leave me no choice but to finally write you up.
Me
You wouldn’t do that to me…
Mr. Donovan
Try me and see.
I gasp and call him.
“Yes, Miss Edwards?” he answers on the first ring.
“I’m going through something super tragic in my personal life, and I would appreciate some understanding at this time.”
“Someone you know passed away?”
“It feels like it.”
“That’s not a clear enough answer for me,Genevieve.”
The way he says my first name sends a sudden jolt of warmth through my body.
“I don’t see why my absence matters,” I say. “It’s not like I’m behind on my work.”
“That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see you.”
“What?”
“Doesn’t mean you can skip class.”
“Harvard waitlisted me.” The words rush out of my mouth. “ I gave them the best personal essay I’ve ever written, put my heart and soul into every word, and theywaitlistedme.”
I wait for him to offer sincere apologies, to say how stupid the admissions department must be, but he laughs.
It’s not a light. “Ha, that’s life, don’t worry,” chuckle.
It’s a full-blown, “funniest shit I’ve ever heard in my life” belly howl that is probably making him convulse on the floor.
I hang up.
He calls me seconds later, and I send him straight to voicemail.
Screw him and everyone else at this school.
I walk the route I know all too well, straight down Main and past Flamingos’s Coffee until I reach the Amtrak stop on Lincoln.
When I descend the steps, Liam is standing there with a huge bag, looking as if he’s been waiting for me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“Someplace where failure isn’t funny.”
