Page 31 of Revere
Gripping the steering wheel, I watch her get out, and I tell myself I’m just looking after my investment. That’s all this girl is to me.
You’re lying to yourself.
This girl has been more since I read the essay she submitted for the program.
It didn’t matter what she put on the paper. To get what I need from her family, she was always going to be accepted into the program. Yet, there was something that had me reading it over and over again, like I needed to understand it deep in my core. Something I couldn’t put my finger on until I met her on the plane. Until I felt those defenses of hers firsthand.
Patience Lancaster’s mind is an ocean. Beautiful on the surface but dark beneath.
Endless.
Violent and raging deep at sea, while the beach seems at peace.
Reading her essay, I sensed it. I needed to learn more. No one thinks quite like her. She picks and pulls at threads most people don’t bother paying attention to. She’s smart, but it’s more than that.
She understands.
Patience might think I’m unimpressed. She might even think she doesn’t belong here. But she does. I’m starting to think she might belong with me.
11
OBLIGATION OR LOVE
PATIENCE
Violet rubsher eyes with the heels of her hands. “Oh my god, this is grueling. Who decided it would be a good idea to spend our summer studying?”
“You did.”
She drops her hands. “So did you. Why don’t you look frustrated? Did he actually like your thesis?”
“I don’t think Professor Gray is capable of liking anything.” I spin my computer around so she can see the markup he did on the rough draft of my research paper.
“That’s a lot of red.”
“At least he’s not scoring us on this yet.” That’s what I keep telling myself.
I’m not a failure yet. Simply standing at the edge of the cliff and trying not to fall.
“You’re right.” Violet rolls her shoulders back, and at least my words are convincing to one of us. “We have plenty of time to sort this out. I just have to fix a few things.”
Her eyebrows scrunch, her fingers hovering over the keys.
“For a second, I believed that worked.” I cock an eyebrow.
“I don’t know how I even got into this program.” Her shoulders sink. “If he doesn’t like this, what did he think of the essay I turned in with my application?”
“I’m sure it was fine. At least, better than mine.”
“Why do you say that?” Her face scrunches.
There’s no way to answer her question directly without having to tell her about my run-in with Professor Gray last week. It’s been hard enough keeping my distance from him without throwing up red flags, but if she finds out about our conversation in the corner of the library, she’ll think more of it.
“No specific reason.” I try to brush it off. “You’re a better writer than me. That’s all.”
“I am not.” She rolls her eyes. “And even if that were the case, you’ve been racking up the points in classroom participation.”
I cringe with the reminder. I might be avoiding Professor Gray outside of class, but that hasn’t made it any easier to hold my tongue during lectures. It’s like I’m programmed to argue with that man. No matter what subject we’re discussing, I find myself challenging him.
