Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I ended up with eight stitches and a stern talking-to from Rob about taking better care of myself. He insisted I drink a Gatorade and try to eat something when I got home. The whole process took until well past the midnight deadline for my essay.
By the time Mitch and I got back to the frat, I’d made a plan. For any other class, I would’ve just talked to the professor the next day. It was obvious from the stitches in my cheek that I’d had an accident. Dr. Theriot wasn’t going to want to hear that. He was a hard-ass about deadlines—at least that’s what everyone said—and I’d already blown past the regular due date and waited until the last section for the final chance.
I wanted coffee, but I needed hydration, so I refilled my water bottle instead, then went to my room. The thought of food still made me queasy. I pulled up my notes on the essay, turned them into actual paragraphs, included my references, and read back through everything, hoping I had enough brainpower to find any errors. I pulled up our class site and found the folder for turning it in.
The turn-in feature was already unavailable. My head ached. He’d said he didn’t extend time for anyone, and obviously, he was deadly serious. I now had a zero on my first assignment for the only professor I cared about impressing. My cheek felt like it was on fire, and I felt nauseous and shaky. What a great fucking start to the week.
I desperately needed sleep, but I set my alarm for eight. I wasn’t going to risk running into Randall before I could get out of the house. If it didn’t hurt, I’d laugh at the ridiculousness of me taking a girl from him. Of course, if he knew I was gay, he might be just as likely to beat me up for that. Motherfucker.
When I woke up the next morning, I filled my thermos with coffee and a sausage biscuit from the kitchen, then took the bus to the main part of campus. I doubted I was up for the walk. I felt better once I had food and caffeine in my system, but I was still unsteady. I started to wonder if I’d hit my head and just didn’t remember it. Rob said I looked fine otherwise, but damn, I felt out of it.
Why did I pledge this fucking fraternity? They’d made my first semester hell, and I only liked a few of the other guys.
You could quit.
I could, but all I could think about was my uncle telling me that Heberts weren’t quitters. He’d said them when I’d wanted to drop piano lessons in seventh grade, when I wanted to quit the high school soccer team because of the asshole coach, and countless other times.
I considered skipping organic chemistry and taking a nap in a library cubicle before I parked myself in front of Dr. Theriot’s office and waited to plead my case. It wouldn’t matter if I went to see him with bed head. I was already going to look like hell, and my whole fantasy of him falling for me was stupid as shit anyway. I needed to focus on convincing him to take my paper. I couldn’t let anything ruin my GPA, or my uncle might cut off my funds.
I decided it would be too hard to wake up if I napped, so I got some espresso and wandered around campus until it was almost time for class. I stopped in the student center and quickly printed out my paper so I could hand it to Dr. Theriot personally. Then I went to organic chem and sat through the lecture but didn’t hear a word of it.
Afterward, I headed to Dr. Theriot’s office, hoping to catch him there, even though it wasn’t time for office hours yet. I was too impatient to wait any longer. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
“Come in,” he called. I opened the door and left it open, even though I didn’t want to. When he looked up, his eyes widened. “Alexander. You look like you had a rough night.”
“I did.” I reached into my bag, pulled out my paper, and laid it on his desk.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s my assignment. I printed it out for you since you seem to like old-fashioned things.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not that old.”
“No, like it’s your aesthetic.” I gestured toward the analog clock and the typewriter.
“The final chance to turn in the paper was midnight. That was over twelve hours ago.”
“I know it’s late. I’m sorry.”
“As I told the class, I give students the opportunity to turn in an assignment late for a grade deduction. Once that grave period passes, you receive a zero.”