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George: Word of advice: never plan a cross-disciplinary academic study. The only thing worse than working with one department of academics is working with like three other departments of academics.
George has been ranting about the cross-disciplinary study the psych department is spearheading for weeks.The Millennial Effect: Challenges in Making Adult Friendships, A Multidisciplinary Studyhas required George to liaise with professors and postgrads in the sociology department and med school and he insists it’s been the worst experience of his life other than the time his middle-school bullies threw poor claustrophobic George into his own locker with his week-old ham and cheese sandwich.
George: No offense :P
“Lulu?” Miranda pushes back the curtain. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
I pat down my hair. My face feels puffy and like maybe there are pillow creases all over it. It feels entirely too vulnerable to have pillow creases on my face in front of a colleague; a contamination of my professional life with my personal one. Except who am I kidding, I fell out of a tree at work today.
“Yup.” I take a deep breath. Best to get this over with. “Listen, Miranda, I’m so sorry about all this. I’m sorry you’ve had to devote so much of your time to...” I gesture to the mess that is myself. “Me.”
Miranda wraps her fingers around my bare wrist, squeezing gently. “Don’t apologize. I’m happy to help out a colleague.”
She couldn’t possibly mean anything by it, but the designation of colleague stings. Even though it’s not like she would or could call me anything else. We certainly aren’t friends.
“But,” she says slowly, taking a step closer. Her earrings, large pearls dangling from a silver chain, swing hypnotically against her cheek. “I was wondering, what were you doing up in that tree?”
This is my chance to tell her the truth, to take control of the narrative even if the narrative makes me look silly. Better to tell her the truth, that my social skills have degraded to the point that I’d rather climb a tree than deal with interpersonal conflict, than the ludicrous lie I told Jay.
“I was...well, you see...”
But if I tell her this, this absolutely unhinged thing about me, she’ll never let me lead a new class. I’ll be lucky to get my contract renewed, vouching be damned. Inwardly, I cringe at the gleeful looks on Audrey’s, Frank’s, and Leo’s faces when they inevitably hear about this.
“It was for a study,” I say, my words jumbled and voice high-pitched.
“A study?”
I nod, as if that will help me sell this story. “I’m...applying to be a part of a new cross-disciplinary study headed by the psychology department.”
“And the study required you to climb a tree?”
I swallow past more of this lie. “It was more an exercise in bravery,” I say. I wonder how obvious it is that I’m literally making this up as I go. “The study is researching adult friendships and the whole process has been a bit scary. Putting yourself out there, you know?” I keep nodding, hoping to fool her bullshit meter. “So I thought, why not do something else that scares you, Lulu. Climb this tree! And you know, it helped. I climbed the tree and nothing bad happened. Well, nothing too terrible happened. I’m still here, aren’t I? Yeah. It’s helped. It’s really helped.”
“Helped what?” she asks slowly.
“It’s helped me gather the courage to apply to the study, I mean. If I can climb a tree, I can put myself out there.”
She cocks her head to the side. My pulse flutters in my throat.
“Neat,” she says. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes.” Miranda taps away at her phone and my shoulders slump in relief. “Looks like Dr. Miller and your dad are back. Shall we?”
“We shall,” I say brightly. She leaves to find a nurse to help with my discharge and I lean against my bed again. “For a smart woman, you’re not very smart at all, Lulu,” I mutter to myself. Not only did I justlieto a colleague and personal hero, but I’m also going to have to apply to George’s study.
On the plus side, if I make it in, maybe they can figure out what the hell is wrong with me.
Chapter Five
Jesse
Despite having a map of the University of Wilvale open on my phone, I somehow manage to get lost two minutes before my appointment with the psychology department. I got stuck parking in the overflow lot down by the football field. Then I went to what turned out to be a dorm rather than the psychology building.
And now I’m late.
Fuck.
A text chimes from where my phone is gripped in my sweaty hand.
George: Where are you?
