Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Thank you, but I was calling about something else.”
“I’m all ears for my new favorite customer.”
“You know that picture I sent you last week?”
“The one of the chick who was hot as fuck?”
“The one of the high school student.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not hot as fuck.” He laughs. “But yeah, what about her?”
“Is she there tonight?”
“Nah. I would’ve noticed.”
“You sure?”
“One hundred percent,” he says. “I’ll call you if I see her, though.”
“I’d appreciate that.” I end the call and send Genevieve another message.
Me
It’s not like you to skip class…What the hell is going on?
Still, nothing.
My phone suddenly sounds with an unknown number. Since Genevieve is M.I.A., I get comfortable and decide to spend some time with a telemarketer.
12
GENEVIEVE
“Oh my god, I got in!” Elizabeth Mitchell screams in the library. “I got into Harvard!”
Students swarm her laptop as she points to her acceptance email, but I can’t even pretend to be happy for her.
The applause swells and echoes through the airy halls. While more students rush over to offer congratulations, tears prick my eyes, and my heart sinks to my stomach.
Holding back jealous cries, I shut my laptop and head outside.
Me
I won’t be in class tomorrow.
Mr. Donovan
Then you’ll leave me no choice but to finally write you up.
Me
You wouldn’t do that to me…
Mr. Donovan
Try me and see.
I gasp and call him.
“Yes, Miss Edwards?” he answers on the first ring.
“I’m going through something super tragic in my personal life, and I would appreciate some understanding at this time.”
“Someone you know passed away?”
“It feels like it.”
“That’s not a clear enough answer for me, Genevieve.”
The way he says my first name sends a sudden jolt of warmth through my body.
“I don’t see why my absence matters,” I say. “It’s not like I’m behind on my work.”
“That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see you.”
“What?”
“Doesn’t mean you can skip class.”
“Harvard waitlisted me.” The words rush out of my mouth. “ I gave them the best personal essay I’ve ever written, put my heart and soul into every word, and they waitlisted me.”
I wait for him to offer sincere apologies, to say how stupid the admissions department must be, but he laughs.
It’s not a light. “Ha, that’s life, don’t worry,” chuckle.
It’s a full-blown, “funniest shit I’ve ever heard in my life” belly howl that is probably making him convulse on the floor.
I hang up.
He calls me seconds later, and I send him straight to voicemail.
Screw him and everyone else at this school.
I walk the route I know all too well, straight down Main and past Flamingos’s Coffee until I reach the Amtrak stop on Lincoln.
When I descend the steps, Liam is standing there with a huge bag, looking as if he’s been waiting for me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“Someplace where failure isn’t funny.”
“You must have forgotten the poet who was performing on the night we met.” His lips curve into a smile.
I swallow my laughter, crossing my arms instead.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he says, stepping closer.
“Then why were you laughing?”
“Because I just got back from Boston to buy something for the future valedictorian of the senior class.”
“Really? They know who’s ranked number one already?”
He shoots me a blank stare. “They told me that there’s no point in waiting to pick it up, since this student will undoubtedly gain admission into every Ivy-league school she applies to, with a guaranteed full scholarship on the table.”
“So, if Alice Hartman will be named number one, will that make me salutatorian? How close are our scores?”
He places his hands on my shoulders. “Withdraw your application to Harvard,” he says. “Then reapply with a different essay.”
“I can do that?”
“It’s a little known loophole. With a certain someone’s assistance who is owed a small favor, I’ll make sure they get back to you as soon as possible.”
“So, you’re going to beg some friend of yours to let me in? Like a sympathy admission?”
“I would never,” he says. “I’ll just ask them to look over my class’s applications as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” I nod. “If you could do that, I’d truly appreciate it.”
“I’m going out of town this weekend to handle some personal stuff, but I’ll help you with it on Monday evening.”
“Thank you. Can I ask you something personal?”
“You can promise not to skip my class again first.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Good.”
The train suddenly whistles in the distance, and the soft rattling of the tracks warns that it's minutes away from coming down the tunnel.
Liam looks at his watch. “You’ll be back on campus before curfew, correct?”
I nod. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Do you ask your other professors if they have girlfriends?”
I blush, shaking my head.
“Congratulations on getting into so many colleges,” he says, walking away. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you on Monday.” I start to head down the platform.
“Oh and Genevieve?” He calls after me, and I look over my shoulder.