Page 21 of A Brush with Love
DAN
“The average was eighty-four percent. That’s rather embarrassing for your class,” the professor said, shooting a glance around the room. “Callowhill holds you to a certain standard, and this type of performance does not meet it.”
Dan had trouble processing how anyone viewed an 84 as a bad grade, but Callowhill was on a different level of over-the-top.
“There are members of this class who seem far too comfortable with inadequacy,” the professor continued, his gaze flicking toward Dan. “And I feel the need to remind you, school policy defines anything below a seventy percent as failing. Such grades will result in mandatory remediation and a potential need to repeat the year.”
He swept another hostile glance across the auditorium. “I do not look forward to inevitably seeing some of you in remediation this summer.”
The professor stared straight at Dan, too long for it to be a coincidence, before giving the class a flippant wave of dismissal.
The hum of conversation filled the room as people packed up their belongings.
Dan stared numbly at his school-issued tablet. It was official.He was failing immunopathology. And close to failing neuroanatomy. Might as well tack osteology onto the list.
He wasn’t failing for lack of trying. Dan put in the hours, all-nighters, flash cards, online videos, trying anything and everything to make the information stick. His brain actively rioted against retaining any of it.
Disappointment.The sharp snap of his father’s voice bounced around in his skull. Dan pushed it away before it gained purchase in his thoughts.
“Woof. Rough time there, Danny-boy?”
Travis Giles, topping the charts as one of Dan’s least favorite people, leaned over the auditorium seats to wedge himself between Dan and Alex, his hot breath hitting Dan’s cheek.
He smelled like milk. He looked like milk too.
“Daddy’s legacy can get you into school but can’t get you the grades you need to graduate? How sad,” Travis said, clucking his tongue. “Good thing your mom is standing by with a practice ready so you don’t actually have to work for it.”
Travis was a prick.
But he also wasn’t wrong.
At the start of the year, Dan walked into orientation assuming most of his classmates would be there out of a similar sense of crippling guilt and familial obligation.
He’d quickly realized that while plenty of his peers were similar legacies with a practice waiting for them after graduation, he was alone on his island of misguided purpose, without anyone to commiserate over things they’d rather be doing with their lives than what was expected by their parents.
“Oh, fuck off, Travis, no one gives a shit,” Alex said, not even bothering to look at him. Dan felt a pang of gratitude toward his one friend.
“What? Am I saying something untrue?” Travis shot Alex a challenging look.
Travis had painted a target on Dan’s back from day one, looking to carry on the Craige versus Giles family dental feud, which was every bit as boring as it sounded.
Their dads were different sides of the same coin, Dan’s father gaining his fame and glory from his innovations in cavity prevention, Travis’s father accumulating his wealth and power through boutique dental mills that drilled and filled at an alarming rate. Both men were dicks as far as Dan could tell.
“You think your legacy admission to this school is any better than mine?” Dan shot back.
“No, I think my ability to pass classes while being here makes me better than you,” Travis said. He pushed away from the seats, leaving before Dan had a chance to think of a reply. There wasn’t really anything to say to the truth, though.
As if Dan didn’t already feel enough like a piece of shit, he received a text from his mom.
I’m having dinner in the city this week with Dr. Cochran. Will you join us?
Absolutely not. While Dan’s parents had run a thriving practice, his father had also worked with Dr. Cochran to pioneer a new system of cavity detection and prevention that brought cost-effective relief to underdeveloped countries. The breakthrough elevated both intolerable men to celebrity status in the dental community, casting a halo of altruistic perfection around the Craige family practice. A halo Dan knew he had no chance of keeping intact.
Before he could think of the politest way to sayFuck no,another text buzzed through:
I wish you would call me. I miss you.
Guilt almost spurred him into agreeing to dinner, and he realized how naïve he’d been to think anyone in this place could ever relate to the river of bad blood and unavoidable sense of duty Dan was drowning in, his mother’s well-being officially his responsibility.
