Page 10

Chapter Ten

RUTH

S at in the corridor by the English faculty offices, I stare intently at a stain tucked under the toe of my shoe. I shuffle my foot to the side, revealing more of what was once probably a coffee spill. The gap in the center of it stares up like a grinning mouth, mocking me. The stain knows exactly why I’m here. I bet it heard about the email I received at eight am summoning me to Dr Melville’s office.

It’s not a surprise; she’s made her feelings about me very clear. She’s told me on more than one occasion that I have a ‘dedication issue’ when it comes to my studies. I don’t even blame her. What other conclusion could she have come to when I’ve missed more assignments than I’ve handed in?

I assume today’s meeting has something to do with the paper I handed in late. I could tell her what happened. At least I have a tangible excuse this time, but I don’t know if she’d believe me. ‘ I got kidnapped by a football team who were supposed to grab an actual toad ’ is kind of giving ‘ my dog ate my homework .’

My knee bounces up and down of its own accord. A throat clears, and my head snaps up; the office door across from me sits ajar, and I catch the eye of the woman at the desk. She gives me a pointed look and I reluctantly still my movements. I have to fight to stop it from going again, all my nerves and restlessness looking for an outlet.

This is what I get for turning up early. If I’d stayed true to form and rolled in two minutes after my appointment time, I wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this waiting.

There’s a swish of movement next to me, and I see Clara sweep in, a floor-length black skirt rustling as she kicks it out in front of her. She’s wearing three necklaces and half a dozen rings that click together softly with each movement. I smile, happy to see her. I only met her this year when she took Econ and joined our study group, but she and Steph lived together as freshmen. When she sees me, her face lights up, and she hurries over, dropping into the seat next to mine.

“Oh, thank god, I left my book back at my apartment and I worried I was actually gonna have to sit with my own thoughts.” The words escape her in one long breath. “Are you here for office hours too?”

“I got told to come.” I try not to sound as dejected as I feel, but I don’t manage it well.

“Ouch.” She winces. Everyone in our class knows if Melville asks you to see her, you’ve got a problem.

“Yup.” I pop the P.

“You know what it’s about?”

“Kind of,” I trail off. When she hits me with an expectant stare, I find the whole story tumbling out. Everything about that night, the kidnapping, Rowan. Everything that led up to the missed assignment. With each word, her jaw edges closer to her lap, shock etching over every line of her face.

“What the fuck?” she hisses, twisting toward me so our knees are knocking together.

“It was kind of a lot.”

“Yeah, I bet it was!” She flicks a wayward strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “Did you report them?”

My spine stiffens. I’ve been thinking for days about whether or not to say anything to the administration. I know I should. What they did was awful, but I’m scared.

“Not yet.” I look down at my hands. Clara must sense what I mean because she reaches over, squeezing my knee.

“If you want me to come with you, let me know.”

I almost startle at the offer. She throws it out so easily, like it’s nothing. “Really?”

She shrugs. “Course, honestly, anytime.”

There’s a little pang in my chest at her kindness. Without knowing it, I’d been waiting for someone to be unhesitatingly on my side. I can’t tell if it’s better or worse coming from someone who doesn’t know me that well.

“Thanks.” I almost choke out the word, my throat suddenly tight.

She knocks our shoulders together. “That guy sounds kinda hot though.”

“What did?” I laugh. “When he called me puffy or the bit where he tipped cold water all over me?”

“Stop, you know what I mean,” she giggles, “the whole surly and protective thing? Smoking hot.”

“I can give you his number if you want?” I say wryly.

She practically launches out of her seat, squealing, “Why do you have his number?”

“He needed to give me back the gloves.”

“Oh, sure.” She nods skeptically.

“He did!”

“And have you been using this number?”

Heat rushes to my face.

“Oh my god, you have!”

“Just a little,” I say sheepishly. Rowan and I have been sending the odd message back and forth over the past few days. Mostly just pleasantries, one time he sent me an article he thought I’d find funny. It’s been nice. As if his steady energy is radiating through the phone.

“You absolute fox.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Not yet .”

“Not at all, we’re just friends.”

“Sure.”

“I mean, even ‘friends’ is a stretch.”

“For now.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“Clara!”

“Miss Walcott?” A clipped voice rings out through the space, cutting off my laughter. My mood flattens instantly as I look around to see Professor Melville sticking her head around her door, her face impassive. “Shall we?” As she gestures into the office, the wave of her hand feels like a sentencing.

“I’ll catch you later,” Clara whispers. “Let me know if you ever want to study together.”

“Yeah?”

“For sure, I want to hear more about this guy.”

The throat clearing over my shoulder has me snatching up my bag, giving Clara a parting smile as I follow Professor Melville into the room.

We settle into seats on either side of the desk, her attention on the paperwork in front of her. “I’ll keep this brief. I have other students waiting to see me.”

Wasn’t she the one who asked me here?

“I’m sure it won’t come as any shock to you, but as things currently stand, you’re set to fail my class.”

My stomach twists. I knew things were bad, but failing? “I know I’ve missed things, but I can make it up if-”

“We’re rather beyond that.”

The twist becomes a stab. “But I can-”

“Ruth, I don’t know if you realize the gravity of the situation.” She temples her fingers, resting her forearms on her desk. “The way things are going, you’re not going to hit the minimum requirement for this course. I need you to take a long look at yourself and what you want because if things don’t turn around, then we’re going to be having a very different conversation.”

“What kind?” It’s hardly more than a whisper.

“Well, firstly, the school would need to review whether or not you’re academically eligible for your extracurriculars.” My heart plummets and by her face, she knows the exact conclusion I’ve come to.

I might not get to be the mascot anymore.

“What can I do?”

Her lips tip up at the edge, like she’s been waiting for me to ask. She reaches into the drawer next to her and with a flourish, a single sheet of paper emerges.

“I’ve outlined three extra credit assignments. This’ll help you catch up on what you’ve missed. If you get those done, on top of a notable extra commitment in class, we can re-evaluate.”

I stare down at the list, the words blurring together as my head spins. I just about hear myself being dismissed and I stumble out of the room on shaky legs.

I know she’s trying to help; this is more of a chance than I probably deserve. But when I look down at what she’s given me I just feel so overwhelmed. Like I’m being buried by everything I need to get done, and the only thing that feels right is crawling into my room and hiding under the covers.

Things would probably be easier if I came clean and asked for help. As soon as I think of it all I can remember is the day in my first semester when I first reached out to academic support. I’d tried to get a meeting set up with a counsellor but after five minutes looking at the forms, all the hoops I would have to jump through, I couldn’t bring myself to start. I’d felt so tired, so hollowed out at the prospect, it was easier just to try and handle things myself.