Chapter Six
Leo
I was sitting in my office with 10 minutes until feature writing class. I had my laptop open in front of me and was cleaning out my inbox. This time, I did happen to catch the email from Shannon, rescheduling the meeting that had originally been for Friday evening, to today at lunch. I looked at the date. She’d sent it only yesterday. I hit “Reply All” and took the time to type out, in big, rainbow letters: CANT WAIT REALLY LOOKING FORWARD 2 IT. I knew how much the ALL CAPS and the lack of punctuation would irritate not just her, but probably everyone else on the list.
Satisfied, I shut the computer, left the office, and went down the hallway to the classroom. Of course, Tessa wasn’t in feature writing class the day I planned to apologize. That friend of hers, Lindsey, was though, and I could tell that Tessa must’ve said something to her, because Lindsey was following me around the classroom with those fuck-me eyes every time I looked her direction. Kristin seemed to pick up on this, and I caught her shooting looks at Lindsey every so often.
Lindsey lingered after class, packing and repacking her stuff into her bag, just so she would be the last one out. I had a feeling Kristin would have hung around to see what Lindsey wanted to say, but she had another class she had to run off to.
“Everything okay?” I asked, looking at Lindsey. She was wearing a pair of jeans that appeared to be shellacked onto those gazelle legs of hers.
“Everything is fine,” she said. “But I did
have a question.”
“Okay—shoot.”
“Well, I know that my grade in this class
could be improved.”
“Is that a question?”
“I’d like to do what I can to improve it, and I was wondering if there were any extra credit assignments?”
She held my gaze as she said this, her hand going up to the side of her face to absently push back a strand of highlighted blonde hair. I caught sight of her fingernails, which were perfectly manicured, painted with lavender polish. She had a couple expensive-looking rings on, and when she smiled, it revealed perfectly white, perfectly aligned teeth. Her whole persona screamed good health, good wealth, and used to getting exactly what she wanted. Maybe I was supposed to feel good that this girl was jocking me, but I didn’t; I found it irritating as all hell.
And I wasn’t about to be another in the long line of fools that gave her exactly what she wanted.
“I’m sure we could figure something out,” I said slowly, and her smile deepened.
“Excellent,” she said. “I’d be happy—more than happy—to do whatever it is that you had in mind.”
“Thrilled to hear it. What I’d like to get from you then, is a profile piece that focuses on one of the employees here at the college. Not one of the professors, but someone who works in the cafeteria, or one of the custodians. Fifteen hundred words.”
“Right,” she said, not sounding thrilled. “Okay, sure. I’ll get that to you as soon as I can.”
“Looking forward to it.” We both knew she’d never do it.
I had a little bit of time to kill before the meeting, so I went back to the office. Upon opening my laptop, I saw that several people had replied to my RSVP, dutifully correcting the missed punctuation, a few gently admonishing that there was “no need to shout” but they were “glad I was so excited about it.” I was trying to think up something witty to reply with when I heard someone walk into the room.
It was Tessa.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Quite all right,” I said. I pulled my feet down off the top of the desk. “You weren’t in class earlier.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I overslept and then . . . well . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m glad you stopped by, actually. There was something that I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” she said. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, too. And . . . and . . .” She looked down at the floor. “I’d like to take you up on that extra credit, um, assignment, if it’s still available.”
She said it in a rush, still staring at the ground. I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Did she just say what I think she did?
I looked past her to make sure the office
door was closed. “Wait a second,” I said.
“Are you telling me you want to be my sex toy?”
Her face reddened, but she finally looked up at me. Our eyes met, and she didn’t look away. “Yes,” she said.
“I need to get my GPA back up.”
I smiled. I was about to tell her that while I appreciated her interest in that extra credit “assignment” I had originally offered, I would give her a more traditional assignment, say, write a feature article about a social cause that interested her. I opened my mouth to begin speaking, but she started talking before I could.
“Because if I don’t get my grades back up,
my parents are going to cut me off. They take my grades very seriously, and I
had an agreement with them that I’d maintain a certain GPA. Which I’m not
maintaining.”
“What do you mean, they’ll cut you off?”
She looked surprised that I’d ask. “They’re not going to give me money anymore.
They’ll stop paying for my apartment, and they might not even continue to pay
for school. I don’t have any money of my own, so there’s no way I could even
begin to afford any of this. And I’ve only got another year left before I
graduate. I can’t let that happen.”
So she was just another spoiled little rich girl, living off her parents. For
fuck’s sake, I was surrounded by them. I wanted to launch into a tirade about
my own miserable childhood, about a single mother who had to work two jobs, who
was never around, about a boy who spent more time at friends’ houses or the
after school program, who got free lunch, who never had new clothes, blah,
blah, blah. Who paid his own way through school, through a combination of
scholarships, grants, student loans, and work-study
jobs. That boy who had great disdain for his many classmates who had their
whole way paid for them, who only had to focus on studying and partying, who
didn’t even realize how good they fucking had it. She was one of them.
I nodded. “I see,” I said. “We certainly
wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”
“No,” she said. “My parents were already so upset when I told them about my
grades. They’re giving me until next semester. And if I don’t get my grades
back up, they’re going to do it. They’re going to cut me off; it’s not just an
idle threat.”
I resisted the urge to tell her to wait a second, I just needed to find my violin. Instead, I nodded again, and clasped my hands together.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
She paused. “Now?”
“No, I don’t mean have sex right now. I’ve got a meeting I need to get to. But
yeah. Let’s do this sex-for-extra-credit thing. Why the hell not? Wear
something to the next class to let me know that you’re actually serious about
doing this.”
The words flowed out of my mouth easily, as though this were something I was used to doing. Had done before. When in reality, the last time I’d gotten laid was a few months ago, when I’d agreed to meet up with Colette. Note to self: don’t meet up with ex-girlfriends you have no interest in getting back together with, especially if there is alcohol involved.
“What . . . what do you mean?” Tessa asked nervously.
“Oh, you’ll figure it out.” I waved my hand as though I was dismissing her, which, I supposed, I was. I did have that fucking meeting to get to, after all, and Shannon would give me a world of shit if I was late.
“Um, okay,” Tessa said. “Sure, I can do that.”
She left, and I got up to go to the meeting. I was entering dangerous territory here, I knew that, but I felt . . . alive. And I wasn’t just talking about my dick. Maybe it sounded pathetic, but this was the most exciting thing that had happened to me since I’d left the magazine, and the fact was, nothing had even happened yet. But there was the anticipation of doing something new, something I hadn’t done before—getting involved with a student. There would probably be all sorts of hell to pay if we were ever found out, but I didn’t care about that. I was feeling better than I had in a while. While I couldn’t say that my life suddenly felt as though it were imbued with new purpose, necessarily, there was at least something happening that I could look forward to. It made me feel like skipping through the campus. Which I didn’t, of course.
The meeting was being held in the humanities building, in Baker Hall, and I knew that I had a smile on my face as I walked into the room and took my place at the long table, right next to Carla.
“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Carla said.
“Things are fine,” I replied. “Can’t say I’m too excited about this meeting, though.”
“Does that mean you know what it’s about?”
“No, but I doubt it’s going to be anything that tantalizing.”
“Actually, it is.”
I turned as Shannon walked into the room. She was a statuesque blonde who was rumored to be a lesbian, though whether that was based on any actual evidence or if it was just because her whole persona sort of screamed “man-hater,” I wasn’t sure.
“Why don’t we all have a seat,” Shannon said, as she took a seat at the head of the table.
“Thanks for rescheduling the meeting,” I said.
“It seemed that several people had a
conflict of interest with Friday evening,” she said. “Though Leo, I don’t
recall getting your RSVP.”
“I did remind him,” Carla said.
“Anyway. I wanted to get the department
together because we’re going to get the Benton
Daily Journal up and running again.” She looked at me. “That was the
college’s newspaper, in case you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t realize the college had a newspaper.”
“Well, we did, for years, and then after one of the professors who oversaw most
of it retired, it sort of fell to the
wayside. We’d like to change that, though, especially because the journalism
program has seen a surge in enrollment. Providing an avenue for students to
write, edit, and publish articles will be an invaluable resource. I am prepared
to oversee the project, but I do expect some sort of commitment from everyone
else, too.”
“What sort of commitment are you talking about?” Carla asked. She had a worried look on her face, which surprised me because this seemed like the sort of thing she’d be all over.
“It won’t be a huge time investment,” Shannon said. “Not unless you want it to be. Ideally, the students will take over many of the responsibilities. But I’d like the faculty to be there to provide guidance when needed. I’ll need someone to volunteer to act as editor-in-chief, at least for the time being. I expect that your students will be excited to hear about this, and will be eager to take part in it. Anyone is invited to submit work, though I suspect it’s going to be the English and journalism departments that will show the most interest. But, say, Carla—I know Seth previously took a journalism course. I’d hope that if he felt he had something worthy to contribute to the paper, he would do so, and perhaps even talk to his teammates about contributing something as well. Do you think that’s something you’d be willing to do, Carla? Act as our editor-in-chief until we’ve got a couple issues under our belt?”
Carla hesitated, which surprised me. Usually she was such a brown-noser.
“I’ve got an awful lot on my plate at the moment,” she said slowly. “I could do something but I don’t know if I can commit to—”
Shannon looked at me. “Why don’t you help, Leo?” she said. “You and Carla will have the final decision on what articles are published in this first issue.”
“Uh sure,” I said. “But can I just say I don’t necessarily see getting the first issue out by the end of this semester as completely feasible? I mean, once the thing’s going, it should run like clockwork, but getting it started again is going to take longer. I’m just not sure I see it happening by the end of this semester. Next semester, maybe.”
Shannon raised an eyebrow. “Are you not up
to the challenge?”
“I’m not saying that at all. But I think it could require a little more time
and planning than we’ve got right now if
you want to have this done by the end of the semester.”
“I have all the faith in you and Carla,” Shannon
said. “And don’t hesitate to ask your TA’s for assistance if you need it.
That’s what they’re there for. Though I certainly want you and Carla to be the
ones in charge of this for right now. Does that sound okay to you, Carla?”
Carla nodded. “Of course. And I assume some sort of credit will be given? For
the students who submit work? I’m just not sure we’ll have enough submissions
for the first issue if there’s not some sort of incentive given.”
“That’s up to the individual teachers, and the amount of work the student puts
forth. Simply contributing an article for consideration should not necessarily
merit credit, in my opinion. But again, I’m willing to leave that up to the
teacher’s discretion. We’re going to see how it goes for the next few semesters,
and then I’ll talk with the dean about adding specific courses, say, formatting
and layout for newsprint, or editing for publication.” Shannon’s gaze landed on
me again. “And Leo, considering your past experience, I hope you’ll be willing
to impart some of your knowledge on the students; not just when it comes to
deciding which articles are going to be published.”
I gave her a big shit eating grin. Oh, if
she only knew what Tessa and I had just talked about. “I’d be more than happy
to,” I said.