“This conversation isn’t over!” Lourdes blurts out.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need details, Jessie,” Dani adds. “Like, how did this happen, what the hell happened?”
“I drew a diagram,” I say. “It’s in my notebook. Sort of like an anatomical sketch I did from memory when I got home.”
I guess I didn’t realize how insane that was until I see the three of them staring at me with identical expressions of amused shock.
“She made adiagram,”Becca whispers.
Yeah, this is getting to be too much, and if I stay much longer, I’ll be late for class. I’m never late.
“I’m gonna go,” I say, standing up. “I’ll, um, talk to you guys later?”
They just nod as I slip out.
I walk across campus, notebook in hand, thinking about Professor Holt and the way he spoke to me. Just replaying his words in my mind is like wrapping myself up in a warm blanket.
But it’s not enough. I want more, but I know I shouldn’t. I want those precise, skilled hands on me again. I want his voice telling me what to do. I want to learn more and show him just how much of a good girl I can be.
I’m smiling to myself as I enter the science building and find my seat in the front row.There he is.But he doesn’t look at me as he starts his lecture. Forty-five minutes go by, and he doesn’tlook at me once. Even when I raise my hand to ask a question, he just looks past me at someone behind me.
He’s pretending I don’t exist, and it’s working.
As class is ending, I scribble in my notebook:Professor Holt did not look at me once today. My heart hurts.
I take a long time packing up my things, hoping he’ll ask me to stay for another ‘tutoring session.’ He doesn’t. Instead, he just collects his stuff and exits through the side door.
A tornado of emotions strikes me as I go out the way I came. Am I upset? Annoyed? Hurt? I don’t even know. What I do know is that my desire for him hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it’s risen.
I’m halfway across the quad on the way to my dorm when someone steps in front of me. A man. Clearly not a student. He’s old, maybe mid-fifties, with thinning gray hair that’s combed back to hide his bald spot. He has ugly glasses and a sport coat that I’m sure he thinks makes him look scholarly and distinguished.
His lips part with a sickening smacking sound as he smiles at me. His teeth aresowhite I wonder if he could bleach them again without permanently destroying them.
“Miss Monroe,” he says slowly, as if tasting my name.
“Sorry, do I know you?”
“No, not yet,” he says, almost to himself. “I am Professor Gerald Belcher. I’m part of the Anatomy Department with Professor Holt.”
Gerald…where have I heard that name?
Aha! The skeleton in August’s office is named Gerald. Could be a funny joke between friends, but for some reason, this man does not strike me as one of August’s friends…
I file this away for later as I shake his hand, just to be polite. But he holds on to mine for just longer than he should, dragginghis thumb across my knuckles in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“I saw you leave the hall after August’s lecture,” he says, falling into step beside me as I start walking. This guy’s seriously creeping me out. “You’re a freshman, yes? His classes are tough. You must be quite intelligent to keep up.”
“I do my reading,” I reply. What else am I supposed to say?
“Sure you do,” he says with a smile. I catch his eyes traveling down my body, almost like he’s examining me. It’s cold and clinical, nothing like how August looks at me.
The way he looked at me…it made me feel strong. Recognized. This feels more like how a collector would look at a car he was thinking of buying.
“Professor Holt is a great teacher, but many students find him…overwhelming.”
I shrug. “Not me.”
This is getting weird now. What’s he getting at? Why is he even talking to me?
