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I wasn’t prepared like the other students were.
And now I was trapped because no one dared to make a sound once Professor Grant had entered the lecture hall. No one did last semester, and so far, no one had this semester either.
Professor Grant did something I hadn’t seen since I’d been in his classes: he walked slowly to the front of the classroom. Usually, he’d stride to the front and dive right into the material. But not today. When he made it to the desk, he took his time setting his messenger bag down and opening it.
Is he stalling? I frowned and glanced around the class without turning my head.
Is he giving me a moment to prepare for class?
As quietly as I could, I slowly unzipped my backpack and pulled out my spiral notebook. Grant was still pulling out his materials while I found my pen. I left my bag open and considered Grant pausing for me as a gracious act of God. A moment later, he raised his head and looked out over the class. From where I sat, I was able to see the lines on his forehead and the irritated look on his face. When his eyes fell on mine, I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t say anything or draw any attention to me. When he saw I had my notebook out, he nodded once at me before he turned his back and started the lecture.
My mind was anywhere but on the material Grant was talking about. No matter how hard I tried to refocus, I couldn’t. I replayed everything Preston spouted off and wondered how much of it Professor Grant had heard and seen.
In the same breath Professor Grant uttered, “Class dismissed,” he also said, “Mr. Andris, a word, please.”
I made sure he saw me nod at his request and waited for the other students in my row to file out. I made my way down the steps to the front of the classroom as I stuffed my notebook in my backpack. Out of habit, I attempted to sling the bag over my shoulder, but quickly remembered it was torn. I carried it by the other strap and nylon loop and stood in front of Professor Grant.
“Yes, sir?” I asked respectfully.
Grant folded his arms across his chest and looked intently into my eyes.
“Do you know that young man from the lobby?”
“Yeah—I mean, yes, sir. We went to the same high school,” I explained.
“Was he like that in high school?”
“Yes. He wasn’t pleasant to anyone,” I admitted.
Professor Grant’s eyes left mine for a moment. He looked at the mark on my face from Rami. He gestured with his head to the bruise by nodding once.
“Did he do that?”
“No,” I confirmed. I shook my head too, but couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. I wasn’t going to go into the situation with my sister. This was awkward, and I decided I should thank him for letting me get situated, even though I retained nothing and only took a few notes. “Thank you for pausing a few moments at the start of class so I could get my notebook out.”
“No problem, Mr. Andris. Besides, I was trying to keep myself calm and from ripping that bully’s arms and head off.”
Professor Grant smiled at me, and it wasn’t one of his smug smiles either. As I walked out of the lecture hall, I began to think that maybe we had turned a corner. Instead of going to my Technical English class and my Calculus class, I went to the library to cram for the exam.
* * *
Fuck! Please, not right now, Rami. Rami’s hand locked up on her while she was trying to eat the lunch I’d made for her. I hurried over to her with some napkins and cleaned up the mac and cheese she’d spilled on her t-shirt. With both hands, I took hold of her hand and gently massaged it, hoping it would loosen up and relax.
“Thhhank … youuu, Just—” Rami swallowed just as the twitch of her lower jaw caught my eye again. My stomach dropped. It was the second time today that I’d seen her jaw twitch. The twitch had become more noticeable in just the past few days. I tried not to let her see the worry and concern on my face while she was trying to say my name. “In,” she said and then clamped her mouth closed.
“You’re welcome, Rami.” I gave her hand a pat. “It’s okay.”
Nervously, I kept looking at the clock on the microwave. Dad called and was stuck in traffic on his way home. He and Nic had both left before the sun was up for work. Dad volunteered this weekend to help out in another department for some extra money. He hoped to have been home between eleven thirty and noon so I could go to campus and take the exam. But it was almost twelve thirty and no sign of Dad yet. I had a forty to forty-five-minute bus ride, and I had really started to stress. Finally, at one o’clock, Dad pulled into our parking space. I jogged to the kitchen to put on my hoodie and then back into the living room to say goodbye to Rami.
“I’ll be back after my test. Wish me luck!”
“Gooddd … luckkk … Justtt … nnn.”
I picked up my backpack as Dad was coming inside. He came right over to me.
“I’m so sorry, Justin. Traffic was horrible. Get going, you still have time, son.” He pulled me into a hug and patted the back of my head. “You’ll do fine. You’ve been studying all week. You can do this.”
“I hope so. Then you won’t have to work every other Saturday.”
