Page 41 of Facing the Line

The apples of her cheeks lift in a wide smile. “The greatest discovery in life is self-discovery.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m not cut out to be a historian.” I never did figure out how that career works. “And business and mass communication were useful, but a little boring. Not a total waste. Theater and stagecraft was really hard.” I wince. I wouldn’t have finished that project without Jonas’s help. He jumped in and was there for me when I needed him. “It’s not where my passions lie. But I actually loved my computer science class.”

Dr. Dwyer claps her hands like I recited a Shakespearian monologue. “Hadley, that’s wonderful!”

Okay, what I didn’t tell Dr. Dwyer when we talked first semester is I only picked Intro to Computer Science because the T.A. is hot. Not in a gross way—I don’t approve of faculty-student relationships. But I sure didn’t mind seeing Matt for an hour a day three times a week. With dimples and great hair, he’s yummy. But I was as surprised as anyone to find out I liked the class. Something about the math and the logic clicked, and while it wasn’t easy, it makes sense.

“It fits my skill set, has good future prospects, and is pretty versatile. So that’s my plan going forward,” I say, smoothing my jeans. My palms are damp, but I keep my voice from wavering.

Truth be told, I was a little nervous about this conversation. Dr. Dwyer is supportive, but I also don’t fit the computer science mold. It’s a male-dominated field, and well, I look more like a fashion merchandising major. I liked rising to the challenge of my assignments, though, and proving to myself and everyone else I can do this. It gives me a solid career path, provides independence and financial security, and is needed all over the world. I’m confident in my choice, but I’m not sure what I’ll do if she doesn’t approve.

I shouldn’t be surprised when Dr. Dwyer beams sunshine again at me out of her pores. “I’m so very proud of you.”

From anyone else, it would sound cheesy. But from Dr. Dwyer, it’s believable. I take a deep breath and relax at her praise. Knowing she thinks I can do this bolsters me.

“It’s just perfect.” She stands and rounds the corner of her desk. “Let’s get your schedule figured out for next year, then.”

Her fingers fly on her laptop, and she consults both monitors, making little humming noises. “Okay, so you’ll need some foundation classes first. Have you decided which track you want?”

“Graphics and visualization.”

Nodding, she absorbs that information and continues typing. “Those classes come later, but we can still put that in…” Dr. Dwyer trails off, frowning. “Oh, dear.”

This, from her, is the equivalent of standing on a table and yelling. The back of my neck prickles.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning forward.

Her mouth is pressed into a thin line. “Well, you got some general requirements out of the way this year, and some of the things you took can count for electives. But there are necessary prerequisites. If you want to finish in four years…” She trails off again. “Plus, I know the semester abroad is practically non-negotiable…”

I swallow. According to the custody arrangement, my dad pays for four years of college. So while I can take out loans and get a summer job to save money, it would be ideal if I could cram in as much as possible to graduate in four years and not pay out-of-pocket for additional semesters. Plus, if I can do a semester in London, that’s something he’d have to pay for—at least the schooling part of it. And I’m not sure I can wait until after graduation to visit my dream city.

“I really do want that.”

She purses her lips. “How do you feel about summer classes?”

Two hours later, I set a brown takeout bag on my brother’s counter with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Arms crossed over his chest, Hunter frowns. “Are you sucking up?”

Yes.

“No,” I tell him. “Can I just bring you your favorite burrito with no ulterior motives?”

“No.” He shakes his head and perches on a stool next to me. “What’s the deal?”

I sigh and nudge his burrito closer to him, then unwrap mine and take a bite. I shouldn’t eat my feelings, but it’s been a rollercoaster of a day. The spicy flavors of the chicken mixed with the cool sour cream and the soft tortilla help soothe my frayed nerves.

“I need some help.”

“Oh god.” He pales. “What’s wrong?”

I open the tub of queso I bought—Daddy’s credit card, who cares if costs extra? I gesture at the brown bag of chips, already darkening with grease spots. I shove a bite in my mouth.

“It’s not that big of a deal, drama queen,” I say around my food. “Calm down.”

“Hadley.” Hunter’s gaze bores into me. “You show up unannounced to butter me up with dinner and ask for help. If it’s queso level, I’m gonna worry.”

He’s on a budget now that he’s cut off, I guess. He got a job at the front desk of the gym. But I’ll buy him queso every week if he can solve this problem.

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