“Sorry. The grade is correct.”
“But I?—”
Finally, he meets my gaze, hair falling over his eyes, as he interrupts. “If you want to take it up with someone, take it up with Dean Dutta.” His voice is laced with ice.
I cross my arms and jut out my chin. “I will.”
I’ve never skipped a class before, and my biology lab is coming up in thirty minutes. But this is much more important.
Indignation in every step, I storm toward the admin building to find Dean Dutta’s office.
“And who may I say is requesting a meeting?” His assistant, holding a tissue up to his reddened nose, asks outside the door. He sniffs impatiently. Then releases three sneezes in a row.
“Scout Turner. He knows me.”
His bloodshot eyes glance down at the desk, searching an invisible calendar. “I’m sorry, Miss Turner. The dean requires a few weeks’ notice for a meeting. You’ll have to fill out a request form, but I’m not sure if— Hey!”
I march straight past him and into Ayan’s father’s office. He’s talking to his computer screen, as if on a meeting.
“I’ll have to call you back,” he says, shutting down the call. “Scout. What is this?—”
“My chemistry professor gave me a failing grade on my last exam. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Haughtily, he snorts, grabs his coat, and slips it on. Ignoring me, he strolls toward his door. “I have meetings to get to.”
I step in his way to block the path out. “So youdoknow what this is about.”
His brown eyes lower to my face, a deadpan look overtaking his expression. “Maybe you should study more and not waste time onextracurricularactivities.”
He skirts around me and leaves. My jaw hangs open as I watch him go.
This is worse than I thought it would be.
I’ve been marked.
Ayan is trying to ruin my life. First, breaking into my place to leave a lollipop. Now? Forcing the professors to fail me.
He’s petty, and this is expected. But I’m about to expose the entire game.
Wandering south, I tug my coat up higher as I aim toward Aeternum Residences. With a shaky finger, I contact the person I want to talk to most at this moment.
“Mom?”
“Hey! What’s up? I’m in the middle of clinic. Something wrong?”
I never call during the day, knowing she’s busy. “I failed my chemistry exam, but…I don’t think I actually did.” Angry tears fill my eyes. But I don’t let them fall. Not over these assholes. Everything spills out on a rambling breath. I choke when I reach the part about Dean Dutta.
Mom’s silent for a long moment. Fiercely, she finally replies, “I’m telling Elle. We’ll involve the press. It’s all…some sick hoop they’re trying to force us to jump through. And I’m not doing it.”
I feel better knowing she’ll handle it. Especially when she finishes with, “I’m calling your father.”
Worn out, I decide to skip the rest of the day and make it to our apartment.
Yesterday, I was upset with Apollo for being so unfocused and unhelpful. It’s like he values football over everything else. Today? It seems silly. He made me breakfast. And volunteered to hold my flashcards during the Stallions game. I stormed out anyway to get my studying done. And he left me alone.
I want to tell him what happened because I am so veryaloneout here. My entire life has changed in just two weeks.
When I enter the front door, he’s pacing a trail in the living room while talking on his phone. It seems as if he’s making voice notes, crafting an email to theDeltasabout Feral Friday coming up in a few weeks. Fortunately, I don’t have to participate since it’s just for juniors.
