Page 8 of Never Bound

“Where are you, Lou? Tell me,” I whispered as I leaned in close behind her, brushing her curls gently back from her face. “Maybe I can help.”

“Worrying about letting you down tomorrow,” she replied.

I’d been afraid of that and equally afraid that all the drilling and quizzing and practice problems in the world couldn’t overcome her self-doubt if she chose to let it win. And as much as I wanted to help her conquer it, I didn’t know how. I’d only studied chemistry, not psychology. “You could never ever let me down,” I assured her.

“But what if I fail?”

“Then just try again. Find a way to succeed next time. Or do something else altogether. Believe me, if there’s anyone who knows about pushing through difficult, thankless tasks that never seem to end, it’s me.”

“But—”

“Besides,” I continued, wondering how she’d take what I was about to say. Maybe she’d just dismiss it as silly, simplistic folk wisdom, invented by slaves for slaves. But I forged ahead anyway. “I haven’t taught you the most important lesson yet. The one that will get you through this exam and every test yet to come.”

“What’s that?”

“Breathe,” I whispered.

“Huh?”

“See? You’re holding your breath even now, and you didn’t even know it.”

“I am?” She turned around, clearly surprised to find I was right.

“I notice you doing it all the time,” I said, going for the professorial effect as I sat back in my chair. “Never ever hold your breath, even for a second, as much as you want to. When you do, you’re just depriving your brain of oxygen. It’s like trying to die, basically. And as a future doctor, I think it’s safe to assume you’re against that.”

“Did your professor teach you that?” she asked.

“No.” Suddenly, the pencil I was twirling in my hand had become utterly fascinating. “My mom did.”

HER

“Funny thing happened at work yesterday,” said Corey.

Outside the o-chem lecture hall, his clammy hand—one I’d managed to blissfully avoid coming in contact with since the dinner party—clamped onto my bare shoulder. He physically forced me to turn around and look at his tanned, fine features, which, to be honest, didn’t look particularly fine at the moment. Rather, they bore a sort of blotchy, alcoholic bloat, one I easily recognized.

“Langer says he isn’t renewing my internship next semester, and it’s all because of that fucking slave of your dad’s.”

I kept my voice calm, though I already didn’t like where this was headed. Especially when my nerves were liable to shatter like glass at the slightest rattle. “If Langer’s canning you, it’s probably because he can’t stand the sound of your voice anymore, in which case I’m in complete agreement with him. No slave had anything to do with it.”

“That’s funny because I would tend to disagree,” he said. “Shame what happened to him after dinner that night, by the way.”

I felt sick, but I had had an inkling, of course. “What kind of complete monster hurts someone who you know isn’t allowed to fight back?”

“So what? He deserved a lot worse for running his mouth like that to free men, and if your dad didn’t give it to him, it’s because he’s a weak, manic-depressive cuck.”

“Leave my dad out of this.” Was Coreytryingto ensure I failed this exam? “What he does or doesn’t do with his slaves is none of your goddamn business.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?” He pushed. “Ever since that slave appeared, you’ve been a complete bitch.”

“If standing up for people is what you call being a bitch,” I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t become one a lot earlier.”

“People?” Corey scoffed with a dismissive chuckle as if I’d just claimed unicorns were real. “Isthatwhat you call—”

“Hey, guys, is everything okay out here?” One of the TAs stuck her head out the door of the lecture hall. Her gaze landed on me. “We’re about to start passing out the exam books in a second.”

“Oh, right, that one your slave’s been helping you study for,” remarked Corey.

The TA’s eyes got rounder, but she didn’t say anything.

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