He nods before clicking away at the mouse on his computer while I stand there, waiting for what, I’m not sure. To be excused, I suppose. Or at the very least, told if there’s anything I can do? Any point in trying to finish the semester out.
Several minutes crawl by before he exhales a sigh and turns his attention from the screen back to me. “You’re a running start student.” He doesn’t phrase it like a question, but I answer it anyway, nodding my head, not that I know why it even matters.
Being in running start means I get to finish out my senior year of high school while attending college classes and earning credits toward my—as of yet, undeclared—degree.
“What other classes are you registered for this semester?”
“English 101 and Humanities 131.” Where is he going with this? Can he see my grades for my other classes too? Am I failing those ones as well?
Probably.
I haven’t turned in a single assignment since Mom died, and I’ve shown up to maybe 2 or 3 class periods at most. I’m not sure which ones I even bothered attending. The past few weeks are mostly a blur.
My professor's brows pull together. “If you’re failing my class, you’re likely failing your others as well.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod.
“I see here you’re listed as a member of Kappa Mu.”
Another nod.
“So, it won’t be enough for you to simply pass,” he tells me. “You need a 3.0 or better to maintain your status as a pledge.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I tell him. And I’m not. Sure, the Kappa Mu house is where I live right now, but it’s not like I need to stay there. I’m eighteen now. I can get my own place.
With what money?The voice in my head asks.
Right. I’d need money to get my own place. Well, fuck. I only work at my aunt’s diner when she needs an extra hand, and minimum wage plus tips isn’t really enough to cover living expenses.
I guess I could ask Dad—I cut off that idea before it can fully form. I won’t stoop to begging my dad for money, especially after he’s paid my tuition and made a sizable donation to Kappa Mu to get me in. Even though I never asked him to.
“Be that as it may, you have your diploma to consider as well. If you were one of my regular students, I’d suggest you take the semester off.” He offers me an apologetic smile. “But that’s not an option for you if you want to graduate on time.”
Which I definitely do. Being asuper senioris not on my bucket list.
“What options do I have?” Because from the sounds of it, it’s looking pretty hopeless.
“I have your schedule. I’ll speak with your other instructors and see if anything can be arranged. Your Humanities instructor won’t be a problem. Ms. Blake is known for accepting make-up work when there is a justifiable reason for the delay, which you certainly have. However, Mr. Fisks…” He trails off.
“Does not accept late assignments.”
His mouth twists into a grimace. “No. I’m afraid he doesn’t. But give me a few days. I’m sure we can sort out an arrangement that is agreeable to all parties involved.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, retrieving my bag from beside my desk. It’s not ideal, but it’s more than I could have asked for. Mr. Fisks' class is where I’m off to next. Maybe he’ll be in a good mood and I can talk to him after class and just, I don’t know, beg for extra credit work.
“Miss Henderson?” My professor calls out right as I reach the door.
“Yeah?”
His brown eyes meet mine and I stiffen at the sympathy I find in his gaze.“I’m sorry for your loss. Losing one's mother is… well, there’s nothing else like it. I’m sorry you’re having to experience that pain at such a young age.”
Pressing my lips into a grim line, I nod before rushing out of the room. Tears prick the backs of my eyes and I blink hard, desperate to banish them away, but instead of retreating, they threaten to spill over.Dammit.
Swiping my eyes with the backs of my hand, I keep my head down as I head for my next class, drawing up the hood on my sweater to hide my face.
Deacon is sitting in his usual spot when I arrive and I claim the seat next to him.
Eyes brightening when he sees me, he offers me a warm smile. “Hey. Long time no see. How’ve you been?”
