“That’s the only reason you’re here?”
“I guess it could be cool.”
“You guess?” Ethan thought about all of the dedicated students like himself who missed out because of this frat guy. He had never heard of someone signing up for such a coveted, specialized class just to sleep in a few extra minutes.
“As I said before, chill out. It’s just a class, dude.”
Ethan hated being called dude. He did not act like a dude. He was not naturally laidback like a dude. He was thoroughly un-dude-like in every conceivable way. “This isn’t just a class.”
“Actually, it is. And it’s justoneclass. Not the end of the world.”
“It could be for some.” The memory of stumbling in late permeated his brain. The Latecomer.
“This class has no real importance. I’m assuming you want to go to law school considering how much you give a shit?” The guy waited for Ethan’s answer.
Ethan deigned to play along. “Yes.”
“Well, this class has no bearing on that. As long as you have a good GPA and good internships, you’ll be fine.”
“That’s why I wanted in this class. To make the connections, to get the internship.”
The guy let out a high-pitched laugh and turned it into a cough when a girl in front of them turned around to scowl.
“You think Professor Sharpe is going to use his sway to get you an internship?”
“It’s possible. If I excel.”
“First off, you’re not going to get anywhere near him. The TAs do all the work, grade all the papers, hold office hours.”
Ethan heard students laugh. Sharpe had said something funny and he’d missed it. One less connection Ethan could casually bring up later. The professor clicked to the next slide.
“What’s number two?” Ethan asked.
“What?”
“What’s number two of your infinitely wise argument against this class?”
The guy put his foot on the column, leaving his legs spread like he was lounging on his couch. “Oh, right. He’s not going to help you because you don’t have tits.”
The girl in front swished around, her red hair flapping against the guy’s foot. She shot him a nasty look, and in return, he gave her the turn-around signal with his index finger.
“You think you know everything, don’t you?” Ethan said, his frustration turning to anger. Was this guy on a mission to crush his spirit, throw his future into a ditch face-first?
“Not everything. But I know that Professor Sharpe’s last four interns were girls. One of them told me Sharpe has a very…shall we say, ‘hands-on approach’ to learning.”
“He would never!”
“Because you know him so well? Oh, that’s right. You two are BFFs. He’s going to hook you up with an internship this summer and walk you personally into Harvard Law School. And why wouldn’t he be impressed with you? You wore khakis to class.”
Ethan glanced at his outfit and then peered at the auditorium, which was dotted with a few kids in blazers and dresses. They sat in the front row.
“You’re really going to stand out, what with that and your stellar note-taking skills.”
Ethan looked down at his half-empty notebook page.
“Next stop, Harvard Law.”
“And next stop for you,” Ethan said with a bristle, “academic probation.”
