Page 168 of Lessons in Chemistry

Dad ignores Emory’s rant and focuses on me. “The dean tells me that unless you do exceptionally well in your exams, you can’t reach a two-one grade average for the year. Considering your poor performance last year, that means you’re unlikely to get a worthwhile grade in your degree. It’s time for you to come home, August.”

“What’s a worthwhile degree? In your opinion,” Casey asks.

Uh-oh. I already know Casey’s feelings on this topic.

“A two-one, at the very least. Anything else is a waste of time.”

“Huh. I’m probably going to graduate with a two-two. Not for lack of trying. I work hard. Am I wasting my time? Should I quit my degree halfway through?”

Dad stares at him. For once, he doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“In a few years’ time, my degree classification isn’t going to mean as much as the fact that I have a degree. Any more than my GCSE results matter beyond passing maths and English. Any more than my A levels matter beyond getting the points I needed to get into university. What matters is that I’m here, trying my best. When I graduate, I’ll be damn proud of my result, whether it’s a pass, a third, or a two-two.” He stands and walks up to Dad.

I’m not surprised to discover that Casey is taller than Dad, but Dad takes a half step back. Casey can be imposing without realising it. It’s not that he’s big and bulky. Quite the opposite. He’s tall and, thanks to swimming, lithe and has a quiet strength. And right now, Casey is bringing all of it to bare in my defence. My knees weaken. Casey and Emory. My heroes.

“You should be proud of Auggie. No matter what result he gets because he’s working really, really hard to turn his grades around,” Casey says.

Thank you, Dad, for giving Casey an opening. God damn, I love my boyfriends more than anything. I want to hug and kiss them, but it will have to wait.

I cross my arms. “I’m not coming home. I’m staying here and finishing my degree, with or without your support.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I’ll get a loan for my course fees like everyone else. I’ll work if I have to so I can afford to pay rent. It’ll mean I have less time to study, but I’ll get through. And my tutor and my study partner will help me.” I smile at Emory and Casey.

Emory’s joke pops into my head. ‘Historians believe they were good friends.’ I’m reaching the point where I don’t care what Dad thinks because he clearly doesn’t care what I want.

“To be clear, I won’t be finishing my degree, so I can come and work for you. I’ll be finishing it because the real waste would be walking away after spending almost two years working towards it. I hate pharmacology. The thought of working in that industry, even for a day, makes my stomach turn. If you want to hire someone as brilliant as you—probably more brilliant—hire Emory.”

Emory blushes and dips his chin.

“But I won’t be working for you. Not now. Not ever.”

“And what will you do?” Dad asks in a mocking tone.

“I’m going to be a chef.” I say it with such conviction that I truly believe I can make it happen.

“A chef?”

“Yes.”

“Auggie is a brilliant cook.” Emory’s blush deepens, and he clenches his teeth.

“He often cooks for us after study sessions,” Casey says.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Dad’s voice is halting and hesitant, which is unusual. In fact, it never happens.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I make sure not to speak in a confrontational tone. I keep my voice soft and measured. “I’m much more than a grade average or an attendance record. We were about to stop studying for the day and eat. Stay. I’ll cook for you too, and you can get to know me and my friends better.” I’m probably going to regret my offer.

Dad looks between us. “I’d rather talk to you alone. Send your friends home.”

“So you can bully him?” Casey asks.

Dad looks like he’s going to explode. “How dare you? I don’t know who you are—”

“Auggie’s study partner,” Casey deadpans.

I press my lips together so I don’t burst out laughing. God, I love him.