An alert chimed on my phone. I glanced at it and cursed under my breath.
I was late for class.
I grabbed my bag and hurried out of my office. My next class was in another building, so I speed-walked as fast as I was able to in my heels. Why did I have to choose fashion over function today?
I arrived in the classroom four minutes late. It was a smaller room, with only fifteen students filling the individual desks. “Sorry I’m late. I, uh, had the wrong room,” I said.
The students were silent as I walked to the desk at the front and dropped my bag.
“Welcome to Criminology 101,” I announced in what I hoped was my most authoritative voice.
A girl in the front row raised her hand.
“I’ll take questions at the end, thank you.”
She lowered her hand, but glanced around in confusion.
“Hey, Professor?” a kid in the back row called out. He looked strangely familiar to me. “I think you’re in the wrong class. This is Criminology 204: Computer Crime.”
“Shit.” I winced. “I mean… shoot. I’m not in the wrong class. I’m in the right place. I just misspoke. I’m your professor, Lila. I mean, don’t call me by my first name. I’m...”
So much for having confidence on my first day.
I smiled widely at the students. “Let’s start over. I’m Professor Carrington, and this is Criminology 204.”
But my smile faded as I reached into my bag. My laptop wasn’t there.
I’d left it back in my office.
“I seem to be unprepared today,” I announced. “I forgot my laptop. Does anyone have a copy of the syllabus?”
Blank faces stared back at me.
“I got you, Professor,” said the guy in the back who had corrected me earlier. He walked to the front of the room and inspected the projector cable on the desk. He had messy blond hair and a nonchalant attitude that reminded me of Kurt Cobain. Then returned to his seat and flipped open his laptop—which glowed with green and blue LEDs—and began rapidly typing. Above me, the ceiling-mounted projector hummed to life. A few seconds later, the class syllabus was being projected onto the screen at the front of the room.
“All yours,” he announced. “Just tell me when to scroll.”
I recovered, but only slightly. All of my confidence from this morning was now gone, and I stumbled through the course syllabus like it was my first day on the job. After going over the course material, I decided to let the class leave early.
“We’ll begin fresh on Wednesday,” I said. “Looking forward to a great semester, everyone.”
The kid in the back was one of the last to leave. “Hey, thanks for the help,” I said as he passed.
“All good. You looked like you were riding the struggle bus.”
I grimaced. “That bad?”
He shrugged. “Nobody cares. Everyone just wants to get through the class. They’ll forget all about it by Wednesday.”
“Thanks… what was your name?”
He gave me a boyish grin. “Cam.”
I scanned the student sheet, which thankfully Ihadprinted out. “Camden Keene?”
“The one and only.”
He still looked weirdly familiar. I glanced up at the projector, and a thought came to me. “Tell me, Cam. How does a studentlike you have access to the classroom projector, which is only accessible on the private faculty Wi-Fi?”
