My spine straightens. Unlike everyone else in the room, my health administration and policy major requires a completed internship prior to the first day of senior year. Without it, I’ll be put on academic probation.
Sure, it would be kind of funny, and terribly sad, to be a 4.0 student on probation. What isn’t funny is how the required make-upinternship class adds an extra semester to my degree plan and isn’t offered in the summer. Which means everything I’ve been planning for years, graduation and my graduate school aspirations, would have to wait until thenextfall.
After a rejection letter from my dream internship in Seattle, I’ve done nothing but panic. Even with five months until summer, most positions are already filled. I can’t handle another email raving about my stellar application and not offering a position.
Internships are meant for learning, an opportunity to challenge myself and peek into my future. I wanted to be picky to avoid wasting my time and not getting a lick of hands-on experience, but now I’m cutting it too close for comfort.
Thankfully, the perfect opportunity is here.
“The best part is that you’ll be working with a partner!”
Confused, I raise my hand and wait for him to call on me. “If there’s only one winner, why do we have a partner?”
Dr. Martin snaps his fingers. “Great question. Partnerships and teamwork are the backbone of public health. I believe that working together will help push you all to new heights.”
I glance over my shoulder to find a suitable partner. This decision could truly make or break my chances of winning.
“Slow down, everyone,” Dr. Martin chuckles. “Your partners have already been chosen.” All the air leaves my lungs like a deflated balloon when he seals my fate for the world’s worst semester and most difficult elective. “Your partner is sitting right beside you.”
Whereas most of the class celebrates, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus and a train. At the same damn time.
Kenneth’s eyes bore into the side of my head so harshly it burns, surely thinking the same thing I am:fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
What kind of sick joke is the universe playing on me?
The rest of class flies by in a blur because before I know it, I’m slinging my backpack over my shoulder to leave. I feel like shit, but Kenneth looks even worse. Frozen like a statue, he grips the table with such intensity it might crumble.
Whatever. He can stay here and whine. I need to fix this.
“Hi, Dr. Martin,” I say when I reach the podium. “I’m Mallory Edwards. Do you have a moment?”
He’s shorter than I remember, considering instead of looking up at him, he tilts his head back to look up at me. “Ah, yes. I remember you from epidemiology. I didn’t realize you’re a double major student. Impressive. What can I do for you?”
Kenneth appears beside me, and Dr. Martin tilts his head even further back to meet his eyes.
“I—” Waving a hand between us, I start over. “Wewere wondering if there’s any way we could switch partners.”
“Is there any particular reason you don’t want to work with…” he trails off.
“Kenneth Gray, sir.”
I wait an extra beat for Kenneth to continue and give him one of the millions of reasons we shouldn’teverwork together, but he’s uncharacteristically silent beside me.
“We don’t get along,” I explain simply. I doubt Dr. Martin has time to listen to years of grievances. I barely have time to deal with it.
“Well, a blind man could see that.” He taps his chin before pointing at us. “Are you exes?”
“No!” I yell, taking a half step away from Kenneth. How could he possibly think that?
“Then I see no reason you two can’t make it through a semester. Five months. Groups were chosen by fate, and part of your final grade is determined by how you interact with each other. Working with peopleyou don’t like is sadly part of the real world. While it’s not fun, it’s life.” He leans back against the podium. “Do you think you two can handle it?”
No. Absolutely not. Partnering with Kenneth sounds like my own personal hell with no escape until May. I don’t think we can work together for one day, let alone an entire semester. We’re rivals. We competeagainsteach other. Working together isn’t in our vocabulary.
I start to answer, and my stomach drops when Kenneth clearly says, “Yes. We will be fine.”
Dr. Martin waits patiently for my confirmation, so against my better judgement, I nod.
“Great! You might even be able to fix,” he waves his hands in the air, “all of this.” Gathering his belongings, he looks at me over his shoulder. “Any particular reason for your choice of majors?”
