Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
She gives me a reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about. But there’s an opportunity I’d like to discuss with you. It won’t take long, and I think you’ll be pleased.”
At the end of class, Josiah and I make plans to meet later in the afternoon for tutoring, and I let Lacey and Lovey know I have to bail on lunch, but I’ll catch up with them later. My palms are sweaty by the time I reach Professor Martin’s office. I pop a mint and take a deep breath before I knock on her door.
“Lavender, come on in.” She motions to the empty chair beside her desk.
Posters cling to the walls, books line the shelves, and costume pieces hang from a rack in the corner. It’s chaotic and visually overwhelming, but I love it. Kodiak would lose his mind in here. I tell my brain to shut up, because he’s the last person I’d like to think about right now.
I take a seat and clasp my hands in my lap so I don’t do what my mom always calls the “otter rub,” where it looks like I’m trying to warm up my hands by rubbing them over each other incessantly.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering what this is about.”
I nod and manage a quiet yes.
“I wanted to talk to you about your costume project.”
“Oh.” A million worries rain down on me.
She raises a hand. “It’s not bad, Lavender. In fact it’s quite the opposite.”
“Oh. Okay.” Some of the tension drains from my body, and I feel less like a sheet of stiff metal and more like one of those soft, squishy plush pillows.
“You’re a gifted seamstress, Lavender, one of the best students I’ve had. I’m aware you haven’t selected a major yet, but I’m hopeful costume design is something you’re looking to pursue.”
I nod, heart thundering in my chest. “That’s what I was thinking, yes.”
“That’s fantastic to hear.” She shifts in her chair to face me. “I wanted to talk to you about a special opportunity. Usually it’s reserved for senior students, but I felt it might be worth bringing up with you. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we have a connection with a few very exclusive summer internship programs in New York.”
“With off Broadway theaters, right?” My stomach churns at the thought of the bustle and energy of such a huge city.
“That’s correct. With your permission, I’d like to submit your name.”
“For this summer?”
“Yes. It’s highly competitive, but I think it’s worth a shot to at least apply. You’d spend two months in New York City working with some of the best costume designers in the industry. Is that something you might be interested in?”
“Yes,” I blurt. “I’d have to talk to my parents about it, but yes, it’s definitely something I’d be interested in. Can I have a few days to think about it?”
“Of course! The application deadline isn’t until early December, so you have plenty of time to make a decision. I’m aware it’s a lot to consider, so I wanted to give you an opportunity to think it through. There are obviously no guarantees, but I believe you have a great shot. Why don’t you mull it over, and we can talk next week?”
I leave her office feeling equal parts elated and anxious. I consider who I want to talk to first about this. Usually it would be my mom, but I’ve put her through the wringer by moving into the dorms and leaving it up to her to talk to my dad—who I have yet to hear from. Although, it’s only been twenty-four hours. Mom may have made him promise not to call until he’s calmed down about it. That’s my guess, anyway.
I decide my best bet is to let the information settle and make a list of pros and cons before I do anything else. This feels like a sign, though. Opportunities like these don’t come along every day, and I’d be a fool to pass it up, even if the idea of moving to New York on my own makes me feel like hurling.
The meeting with my professor has made me all sweaty, and I decide it might be a good idea to go back to the dorms, grab a quick shower, and change before I meet Josiah for tutoring. My anxiety spikes as I approach my new room.
I stand outside the door for a few seconds, listening for sounds of . . . things I’d rather not interrupt. When all I get is silence, I unlock the door and slowly open it. I’m relieved to find no one fornicating on the couch.
That relief is short-lived, though, because the bathroom door opens and my new roommate appears. As I feared, I have had the misfortune of meeting my roommate before. Even worse, Beth is short for Bethany, and she’s the same girl who came out of Kodiak’s house on the first day of school, bragging about having been in his room with him right after he treated me like less than chewed gum. She’s also the one who spilled soup on my leg.