When I have everyone’s attention, I say, “The group project will be a play you’ve written based in the Shakespearean period. You’ll not only be graded on the play itself, you’ll be graded on the script—if the language matches the period, if your costumes are authentic. There will be research, there will be teamwork. If you think any of it will be easy, you’re in the wrong class.”
I meet each of their eyes, making sure they all understand I won’t tolerate their bullshit.
“Let’s get to work.”
Chapter
Nine
LUCA
I’ve spentthe last two weeks doing everything I can to avoid Professor Levine. It’s easier this way, honestly. It means I don’t have to feel my face go red every time he talks to me, and I don’t have to squirm uncomfortably in my seat when his eyes focus in my direction.
We moved from the lecture hall to the larger auditorium where the school puts on its performances—something about learning to project your voice so it carries through the entire room and perfecting stage presence.
The only reason I’m happy about it is because the space is huge, and half the time I make some mumbled excuse of going back to Professor Levine’s office to organize things after I get his notes for the day.
Ithinkit’s frustrating him. It’s hard to tell; he’s hard to read. And… I feel guilty. Guilty enough that I’m wondering if maybe we should just talk. Maybe I should just put an end to this. I know his office hours—Imadehis office hours for him this week and wrote it neatly in his planner—and I know when he’s free.
So maybe the thing to do is just to go in and explain that I wasconfused, and I’m not anymore. It’s a lie, but it’s better than playing avoid-the-professor every time he tries to look myway. I have myself half convinced that the easiest thing to do is just resign from the TA position. I’m willing to finish my filing system for him before I go, but I think it might be better for both of us if I just… quit. Before I do something that embarrasses me and ends up putting us both in a position we can’t afford to be in. I know the rules about teachers and students in relationships, especially when they’re working together. Conflict of interest, mandatory disclosure, prevention of power imbalance.
Not that I think Professor Levine wants to be in a relationship.
Not thatIwant to be in a relationship with him.
“God… just tell him you quit, Luca,” I’ve muttered the same thing to myself about a dozen times.
And I mean to, I really do. I’m actually on my way to the office building tomaybelet him know when a sound makes me pause. I recognize Professor Hilman’s voice echoing down the hall, smooth and sure. I’ve done my absolutebestto make sure that I don’t have to be in the same space as him, which is hard when he works in the building where I’m taking most of my classes…
But…
Well…
I’m not going to break that streak now. Whatever bit of confidence I’d built up to talk to Professor Levine dissolves, and I turn on my heel, dodging out of the Arts building and into the light drizzle of rain making the campus smell like wet grass and cool air.
I take a shaking breath, trying to clamp down the misery threatening to crawl up my gut. Freshman year feels like forever ago, and I keep thinking I’ll get over what happened with Professor Hilman.
So why do I feel like I’m drowning all over again every time I hear his voice?
My fingers fumble for my phone as I take off in the opposite direction—I don’t want to go to my dorm, and I’m not having my big “I’m very professional and this is how it has to be”conversation with Professor Levine now.
But at least I know there’s one place where I can feel safe and relax. At least I heard himbeforeI turned the corner.
My fingers automatically punch in the only number I have memorized, and some of the tension runs from my body when my grandma’s voice spills over the phone.
“Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t expect a call from you today.”
We have a pretty set routine. I call her on the weekends after I finish whatever papers I need to write, and she tells me how proud she is that I’m working so hard. I get to talk to my grandpa that way, since he still works during the week.
Honestly, the thought of disappointing her is one of the worst things I can imagine.
“I ended up having some unexpected free time.” I don’t add that it’s because I ran away when I heard Professor Hilman’s voice, because she doesn’t need to know that.
No oneknows about it. I feel better with that shame hidden somewhere deep in my chest, behind my ribs. Maybe it aches sometimes, but it’ssafethere. No one can see it.
No one can look at me differently because of it, or tell me it was my fault.
“Well, it’s nice to hear from you. Tell me about your week.”
