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I try to act like I find this funny. “More like I can always beg Lorenzo and his wife to hire me as their maid.”

“Oh, come on. You never think about the possibility?” Bree grabs my hand and squeezes, tipping her head back dramatically. “Lorenzo issohot. I can’t even speak around him.”

I busy myself pulling out my notes from last class, hoping she doesn’t notice that a curious mix of jealousy, pleasure, and possessiveness is heating my face. “It’s not like that between us. Never has been.”

I’m gettingready to leave class two hours later when Wythe catches my eye with a small wave. “Ruby?” she says expectantly, and I know I’m being summoned to something unpleasant.

I walk to the front of the room and wait off to the side while Wythe talks animatedly to another student about the paper we just got back. I get the feeling from Wythe’s genuine smile she’s invested a lot in him, but her smile has cooled into apathy by the time she turns to me.

“Ruby.” I’ve heard my name spoken in this tone countless times since kindergarten. She’s displeased. “I take it you saw your grade.”

“Yes,” I say carefully. Does she want me to appear disappointed? Repentant? I remain strategically neutral.

She nods and raises her eyebrows. “And?”

“And it . . . wasn’t great?”

She takes a breath. “I’m referring to the comments I left you. Did you read the comments I left you, Ruby?”

“Oh. No, I missed them. I was going to go back later and?—”

“You know, a lot of students think summer classes are going to be easier, and I’m here to tell you, not mine. It’s harder. We pack a lot into a few weeks, and I expect effort from all my students.”

“Right.” I swallow. “Um, I ask this with no snarkiness, but are you saying this to everyone who didn’t get a good grade on the paper? I just?—”

“No, I’m saying it to everyone who didn’t get a good grade because they didn’t try.”

“I did try, I’m just not a great writer. Or researcher.”

“You want to be a quality assurance tech, right?” When she sees my surprise, she adds, “Everyone filled out a sheet on the first day of class listing their career and academic goals, remember?”

“Right.”

“Let me tell you something: You could do better.”

I pause, confused. “You just handed me back a paper that I only got a C on. And I actually worked on that.”

“Well, it was a wasted effort. I liked your paper because you had a point to make and you made it; an interesting one too. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with the original assignment. You don’t follow directions.”

The back of my neck burns with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I say tightly.

“I know you picked QA tech because you think it’s a slam dunk, but you’re never going to last at that job.”

“With all due respect, isn’t it the university’s job to support students in their career goals?”

“I don’t think that’s a goal. I think that’s a fallback. And if I’m wrong, you should know you’ll land it without issue, but that’s not a job you can hold on to if you don’t work harder. There’s always someone fighting for a position who’s willing to do more than you. And if I’m right that it’s a fallback job, my advice is still to work harder.”

I’m at a loss. Am I supposed to thank this bitch?

“Read my comments, Ruby. Take them to heart. Please?”

What did I ever do to piss off Wythe?I wonder on my way out. I show up to class, I do the assignments, I don’t make waves. It’s like she’s personally offended I’m a mediocre student.

I make a point not to open the student app and read her comments on my way to community garden club, but all throughout our meeting, I’m speculating about what she wrote, and by the time our meeting ends, I can’t wait any longer.

As soon as I open the app to read her comment, I think,Which one?The paper is a landscape of criticism and question marks:

Not using spell-check is unacceptable in this day and age.Fair point.