I was pissed off and disappointed, but there was nothing I could do about it aside from dropping out of school entirely, which wasn’t an option.
But fuck if I hadn’t spent way too long debating if I should.
I didnotwant to perform in front of people. Why the fuck was that requirement? For a composition class? It’s not like it was orchestra, which I’d deliberately avoided for this very reason.
The performance would be at the end of the second semester, so it was still a ways away, but just the thought of it filled me with a cold, sinking dread.
Maybe I could ask the professor if I could skip that part entirely?
But…then he’d ask me why, and I’d have to tell him.
Because when I was thirteen, my mom was driving me to a state festival to compete against the top violinists in Massachusetts and halfway there a semi-truck’s tire burst in front of us and it lost control and so did we and she and my sister died while I lived, which my dad resented me for until he ended up driving off a bridge after a few too many drinks and ever since then I can’t perform in front of anyone because I feel like someone will get hurt even though that’s not very rationalbut rational doesn’t matter when it comes to trauma. Does that answer your question, sir?
He’d probably just stare at me like I was crazy.
I wasn’t sure there was any excuse I could think of that would be good enough to get me out of the performance requirement. I wasn’t even sure the truth would get me out of it.
I didn’t know what my options were here, but there was still time to figure it out.
I’d come to class early today so I could get a seat far away from the one Dakota had been in last time. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, not any more than I had to. I wasn’t sure who he’d be today and I didn’t feel like getting told to fuck off again.
I sat at the very front of the room with my hood up, praying that Dakota wouldn’t notice me.
And he didn’t. Or if he did, he didn’t come sit next to me.
On the off chance he didn’t recognize me with the hood up, I didn’t look back once, and when class started, my shoulders sagged in relief. For forty minutes, I tried to pay attention to the professor, to take notes diligently.
But then he said, “Okay, we’re gonna stop the lesson a little early today so you and your partner can get together for a bit to work on your projects. Please turn in your planning papers by the end of the period.”
Dread curled around my bones, and instead of going to join Dakota wherever he was, I approached the professor.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He looked up at me from where he was sitting at his desk. “Hm?”
“I was wondering if it would be possible to change partners, I don’t really think mine’s a good fit.”
He studied me impassively, then set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “And who’s your partner?”
“Dakota. Voss.”
He mouthedah, then drummed his fingers on his desk and gave me a pitying smile. I hated it. “And why aren’t you two a good fit? Did something happen?”
Because I’d seen his dick. Because he’d told me to fuck off and it had hurt my feelings more than I wanted to admit. Because I’d embarrassed myself over and over again with him.
There were so many reasons that weren’t really appropriate to voice, so I just said, “Well, he’s my roommate and I just think it would be better to work with someone who’s…not.”
The most terrible reasoning ever, and I already knew by the way he was nodding that I wasn’t going to get a new partner.
Damn it, I should’ve thought this out beforehand.
“I’m sorry but there won’t be any changes to partners, and unless there is a valid reason you can’t work together, I’m just going to suggest you try and get along with him. He’s quite gifted, you know.”
I knew he was gifted, but that had nothing to do with why I didn’t want to work with him.
“Okay. Thank you for your time.” I smiled and turned around, dropping my smile as soon as I was facing the room.
And when I saw Dakota had taken a seat at the desk next to mine—and pushed our desks together—I tried counting to ten in my head when our eyes met.
