-Ellie-
Spending time with Flynn had been a mistake. And it wasn’t one I wanted repeated.
Our brief encounter had been as explosive as a land mine. It had blown open doors that I had kept resolutely shut for a very long time. But in the end it had also fortified me in the way only self-destruction can.
Days faded into one another and I didn’t see him. My feet were itching to walk across campus once or twice, heading in the direction where I knew I’d find him, but my rational mind reigned supreme over traitorous desires.
I hated myself for the weakness. I hated him for bringing it out in me. I was in a thick quagmire of all around loathing.
But it wasn’t all bad. Even as I struggled with Flynn’s presence in my world, I was finding dreams perhaps weren’t so unattainable.
Professor Smith had called my name before I left class one Friday afternoon. I startled at the sound of his bland, non-descript tone. I immediately began to catalog the million and one ways I could have possibly gotten into trouble.
It was instinct. I couldn’t help it. Rarely was my name called for a good reason.
So I was shocked to the tips of my toes when he pulled out the essay I had handed in several weeks ago on Young Goodman Brown with a red A blazoned on the top.
I took the paper and stared at it. Was this a joke? I don’t think I’d ever gotten an A in my life.
Professor Smith had written a few comments along the margins. Excellently explained! And wonderful analysis! Well done!
Professor Smith pointed at my essay. “This is excellent work, Ellie. It was one of the better essays I’ve read in a long time. Your arguments were solid and well thought out. There was a level of deduction that is highly complex and in my opinion more in line for a graduate level class. I have to say I’m extremely impressed by your work in this class. I would urge you to take some more challenging English classes next semester. Your writing is effortless and fluid. It’s clear you have a natural gift. It would be a shame for you not to pursue it.”
My mouth gaped open and I closed it quickly. I didn’t know what to say. I had taken the class on a whim. And here I was being told I was actually doing well.
I couldn’t think of a time in my life when I was told I was good at something. In school, I had barely coasted by and the people at juvie had been anything but encouraging.
But here was a college professor telling me I sort of rocked in his own boring, uninspiring way. Pride was nice to feel.
I rolled my essay up and gripped it tightly in my hand, scared to accept what he was telling me, but unwilling to dismiss it altogether.
“Have you signed up for classes for the spring yet?” Professor Smith asked me.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to say that I was suffering from a severe case of chicken shit. Not knowing how to believe in yourself was hard on the whole planning for a possible future thing.
Professor Smith wrote something down on a sticky note and handed it to me. I looked down and saw that he had listed three other classes. British Literature, Creative Writing, and the Development of the Short Story.
“These are just some ideas when you’re putting your schedule together. They are good pre-requisites for transferring to a four-year school.”
I almost swallowed on my tongue. Four-year school? It was the carrot dangling in front of my face. The cheese at the end of the maze. Tantalizing but still so out of reach.
“I don’t think” I began, ready to give voice to the idiocy of these pipe dreams.
Professor Smith interrupted me. “Just think about it. No need to make a decision about it now.”
Think about it.
Yeah I could do that.
I tapped my essay with my finger. “Will do, Professor. Thank you,” I said and I meant it.
Maybe Professor Smith wasn’t so bad after all.
I left the Dunlop building in good spirits.
And then my phone rang.
Damn that phone!
“Miss McCallum?” a voice said on the other end.
“Hi Mr. Cox,” I said, trying not to snicker. It was my probation officer. Mr. James Cox. Mr. Cox to me. I couldn’t say his name without wanting to bust a gut. I was pretty sure his dickish demeanor had a direct correlation to the amount of teasing he received as a kid bearing the brunt of that unfortunate name.
He wasn’t the worst as far as probation officer go but he was still a jerk. I for one didn’t like having someone look over your shoulder every time I sneezed. I had to account for all of my X,Ys and Zs. I may have mentioned that I didn’t care for authority and Mr. Cox embodied everything I hated about people with power.
“I’m going to need you to head over to the Straight Lab office to submit some urine for a drug screening,” he informed me.
“I’m supposed to be at work in twenty minutes, Mr. Cox,” I argued.
“And this is mandatory as per your probation. Or perhaps you like the view inside a jail cell,” Mr. Cox said shortly.
I thought about giving him a sarcastic response but Mr. Cox was not a person who appreciated my dry sense of humor. Mostly because he had no sense of humor himself. His wife must hate him.
“Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I muttered, despising the man who jerked me on a string.
“Good. I’ll call you in a few days with the results. I hope for your sake they’re clean,” he warned. He didn’t need to tell me what would happen if they weren’t.
“I know, sir,” I snapped. I couldn’t help it. He was pushing the a*shole thing a little too far today.
“We all need a reminder now and then. Goodbye.” Mr. Cox had hung up.
I grumbled a few choice obscenities under my breath as I made my way to my car. I shouldn’t be so pissy about having to go take an impromptu piss test. It was my own stupidity for getting myself in this situation to begin with.
But it still sucked being tugged around like that.
I drove over to Straight Labs and went inside. I gave a humorless laugh to find Shane and Stu sat in the waiting room.
“The crew’s all here,” Shane grinned when he saw me. Stu didn’t look up from his phone but raised his hand in a lazy wave.
I checked in with the receptionist and went to have a seat across from my friends.
“So what were you doing when you were told to drop everything and come piss in a cup?” Shane asked.
I picked at my cuticles. “Uh, I was at home, no biggie,” I lied.
“Well, I was getting some seriously fantastic head. Nothing destroys a hard on like a call from your PO,” Shane grumbled.
“Nice,” I replied dryly.
“Oh, baby, don’t be jealous. You know I’ll always have a spot in my heart for that pretty mouth of yours,” Shane leered and I rolled my eyes.
“You coming to the party tonight?” Stu asked, still not looking up from his phone.
“Didn’t know there was one,” I said. I had no plans to go out tonight. I was exhausted and had a lot of reading before Thursday’s class.
“I’m wounded, Ells! It’s my birthday! How could you forget?” Shane pouted.
“Sorry, Shane. I forgot,” I apologized though it wasn’t surprising I forgot his birthday. Stu and Shane weren’t the remember-their-birthdays kind of friends.
“You haven’t gone out with us in ages. What’s up with that?” Stu asked, looking up finally. I didn’t want to look at him. There was something about his eyes that always made my blood run cold.
“I’ve just been busy,” I responded lamely.
Before Stu could say anything else he was called back to give his urine sample.
“This better not take too long. I need to get back to my apartment. I’ve got things to take care of,” Shane said, grabbing his crotch.
I made a gagging noise. “God, Shane. Enough with the visuals. So who’s the lucky girl?” I teased.
I wasn’t expecting him to flush red and refuse to meet my eyes.
Huh.
“Shane…come on, tell me!” I goaded.
“Uh…” Shane stuttered.
I had never known Shane to be so secretive about his conquests. He was the type of guy to kiss and tell everyone. Including some grandmothers and a priest or two.
I raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious.
“Shane…” I said, giving him my best tell-me-or-I’ll-twist-your-junk look.
“Dania, okay. But don’t say anything to Stu. He’s been talking about hooking up with her again.”
I groaned. What the hell was wrong with my friends? They jumped in each other’s pants faster than a case of crabs. It was gross.
“You jealous, baby?” Shane asked, looking entirely too hopeful.
I threw a magazine that had been sitting on the chair beside me at his face. “No, I’m not jealous you moron! But my god, can’t you find someone to f*ck that isn’t in our immediate group of friends? And I thought Dania was hooking up with that guy from the river party.” I realized it had been a while since I had bothered to find out the latest goings on in Dania’s personal life. I wasn’t sure if that made me a bad friend or a protecting my brain from the images.
“I don’t know if she is or not. It was just a random thing. She came by to pick up a movie she left at my place last week and you know how she is,” Shane smirked and I threw another magazine at him.
“And you’re saying Stu wants her back? Seriously?” Well there went my Stu is gay theory.
“Yeah. Maybe. He’s been sort of nostalgic about her lately,” Shane said, rubbing the cheek that was hit the magazine.
My mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re kidding me! Nostalgic about what? The time she broke his window? Or the time he called her a slut in front of the entire cafeteria?”
Shane shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t really care what they do. I was just getting my rocks off and I don’t need Stu up in my ass about it. So just don’t say anything.”
I curled my lip in disgust.
“Yeah, whatever. I’ll let you keep that lovely tidbit all to yourself,” I said, looking away. Dania and I were definitely having a talk later about this one. What the hell was she thinking?
You would think after getting knocked up, she’d learn her lesson. Spreading your legs to randoms, even if the random was Shane Nolan, was a stupid idea.
But obviously she needed to be beaten around the head a few more times before she saw it. And I was happy to do the beating.
Shane was called back a few minutes later and then it was my turn.
After I was finished, I went outside and found Stu waiting for me.
“You wanna go get a drink at Woolly’s?” Stu asked. My mouth fell open for the second time in less than twenty minutes. Stu Wooten was actually asking me to hang out?
Stu and I weren’t close. I could pretend at a relationship with Reggie and Shane but never with Stu. He wasn’t a talker. And it was no secret he was a bit homicidal. The truth was he freaked me out. He was the type to shank you as much as look at you.
“Uh, no thanks. I’ve got stuff to do,” I mumbled, unable to come up with a better excuse.
Stu lit up a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I saw you talking to that freak,” he said, surprising me.
“Flynn?” I asked.
“Is that his name?” Stu countered.
“Yeah. That’s his name. And when the hell did you see me talking to him?” I asked. And why did I feel like I was being interrogated?
“At Darla’s. You guys seemed pretty cozy.” Stu blew out another puff of smoke, this time in my face.
I coughed and waved a hand in front of me.
“What’s it to you, Stu?” I was getting annoyed by this whole conversation.
Stu dropped his cigarette and stomped it out.
“It’s nothing to me. Just thought it strange that you were hanging out all friendly like with the tard. Seems to me you should be a little more selective in who you hang out with,” Stu remarked.
I was going to blow my top. Stu Wooten was the last person I needed shit from.
“Look, Stu, I don’t hang out with Flynn. And if I did, that wouldn’t be any of your business! And he’s not a tard. He has a name. So freaking use it!” I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down. I was getting strangely worked up.
Stu didn’t say anything about my outburst. And that made me feel even more foolish. What had possessed me to defend Flynn like that? But it infuriated me to hear Stu disparage him like that.
“Whatever. Later, Ellie,” Stu said, climbing up into his truck and I was left standing there feeling completely unsettled.