He had a creative breakthrough somewhere at the twenty-five minute mark, typing and typing until the tips of his fingers became numb.
“Pencils down…or whatever,” Professor Mackey said. Robert cracked his knuckles for the whole class to hear. “Does anyone want to volunteer to get critiqued?”
“I thought this was just an exercise?” Panic creased Robert’s forehead. Cameron imagined his helicopter parents waiting on the other side of the door.
“It is. I’m just asking for volunteers. Anyone brave enough to share what they wrote?” Professor Mackey raised her eyebrows, waiting for someone to pull a Katniss and volunteer as tribute.
Hands remained firmly planted in laps.
“I’ll go,” Cameron said. He figured what the hell. He welcomed feedback, and he didn’t think his scene was completely horrible.
Professor Mackey printed out copies and distributed them amongst the class. They took a few minutes to read, and this time, nobody was shy about speaking.
“This isn’t correct,” Robert said, shaking his head at the pages. “You were supposed to write a scene where one character asked the other for money. In your scene, Roger is flat-out giving Eloise the money.”
“And if Roger is giving it, and she obviously needs it, why isn’t Eloise taking it?” A fellow classmate pursed her lips.
“He’s asking her to ask for it. Eloise doesn’t know how to depend on other people so—”
“Cameron, the writer isn’t supposed to talk during critiques. Just listen,” Professor Mackey said with a warm tone in her voice that soothed the frustration and hurt flaring inside his chest.
“I like that Eloise always calls him ‘sir.’ It’s like she hates him and is being a bitch, but she still has respect for him.”
At least someone in this class got it. Cameron would not miss discussion sections in the working world. At a real job, if you said something stupid, you would be called out on it.
“But why didn’t she just ask for the money herself?”
“There’s a lack of continuity between her words and her actions. It didn’t ring true for me.”
“You used the wrong version of their. It’s their lives t-h-e-i-r, not t-h-e-r-e.”
Cameron acted like a statue. No movement, just freaking listening. The discussion around Cameron’s piece eventually died down, and they turned their heads to the professor, who had acted like a neutral moderator.
“Nice work, Cameron,” she said. “You made these characters come alive, and the fact that it triggered so much discussion means your writing left a mark, which is always a valuable quality.”
Cameron managed a polite nod. Nice work was the equivalent to a participation trophy.
A few more volunteers went, and the discussions were much more pleasant. He was packing up his laptop, when Professor Mackey put her hand on his backpack.
“I just want you to know that your writing is fantastic,” she whispered to him.
Cameron’s head shot up.
“I didn’t want to interfere with the critiquing process, but I don’t want you to get discouraged. Professor Kenmore told me about you. He said I was lucky to have you in my class.”
“Thanks.” Cameron blushed. That was better than any A on a paper.
“Well, you’re a natural.” She played with her reading glasses dangling from a string around her neck. “I’ll see you in the next class.”
Cameron heard the music swell in his head as he exited down the steep staircases of Flynn Hall. Now was a good place to end the scene and fade out.
CHAPTER FOUR
Walker
Walker stretched before he got in his car. His muscles cramped from sitting all day. His body felt heavier, like something left in the fridge for too long. His office had an ergonomic specialist come in to adjust everyone’s chair, but it made no difference. Walker was tired and sore from answering emails and sitting in meetings and filling out Excel spreadsheets. And his cavemen ancestors thought they had it rough…
He checked the clock in his car and cursed under his breath. His job was supposed to be an eight-to-five with an hour for lunch. Five was merely a suggestion. At a stoplight, he watched a gaggle of college students cross the intersection. Probably off to some bar or party. He wondered if Cameron was doing something fun. Getting drunk on more jungle juice.
