Little Whore—
Haven’t you figured it out yet? There’s no hope, and the harder you press, the more joy I have ruining your future the way you ruined my life. Why didn’t you stay here, where I could watch over you? In case you really are as stupid as I figure, I’ll make it clear. For every application you send in, your past becomes a better reflection of you. One little F at a time.
Stop trying.
“Asshole,” I whispered, and closed out the email.
Grayson walked out of the locker room and shot me a longing look before heading to the weights.
For a split second, I debated telling him.
If anything, he’d kill Harrison, end up in prison, and I’d be to blame for ruining his life, too. Put that in your miracle-coma-girl movie.
No. I could do this myself. I couldn’t lie down anymore and pray my grades from here would outweigh what was clearly becoming an unusable transcript. I didn’t even have a way to dispute the grades.
I tried the online system to pull my old report cards, but I’d been locked out, which didn’t surprise me. I closed out the program and rolled back in my chair.
My eyes automatically drifted to where Grayson was lifting.
The muscles in his arms bulged with every rep, and my mouth went dry thinking of all the times he’d lifted me like I weighed nothing. All the times he’d held me against a wall while he worked my body into frenzy. I looked at the mirror so I could see his face in the reflection, and my lips parted. He was staring right at me, and his eyes said he’d seen me watching, and he liked it. The single arch of an eyebrow told me all I had to do was say the word and I’d be up against the lockers.
But I wasn’t right for him. I couldn’t even keep my bedroom clean, and I knew that drove him nuts. Hell, if I were as organized as Grayson, I’d have hard copies of my report card in order of date-received all filed away.
Like my mother.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed.
“Hi, baby girl.”
“Hey, Mom. I’m at work, so I can’t chat, but I have a quick question for you.”
“Fire away.” Her curt tone told me she was still at work.
“Do you have hard copies of my report cards from UCCS?” I held my breath.
“Of course. Do you need them?”
Thank you, God. “Yes. Do you think you could scan them for me?”
“I’ll get it done tonight. Love you.”
“Thank you, Mom. I love you, too.”
We hung up, and I spied Avery wiping down the same piece of equipment she had been for the last ten minutes, staring at Grady as he used the leg machines.
“Avery?” I called out gently, and cringed when she fell forward, distracted. She caught herself before she hit the ground, but her face flushed scarlet.
“What’s up?” she asked at the counter.
“How good at computers are you really?”
She smiled slowly.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sam
I shifted in my seat as my English teacher droned on. Maybe it was that I hated literature? Not reading it, but analyzing it. Math was easy. A problem, a solution, bingo, done.
“I think it’s about staying faithful,” a deep southern drawl to my left answered the question I hadn’t heard.
“And what’s the overall lesson learned?” the professor prodded.
“That you’re rewarded for staying true,” a girl answered behind me.
“Until your husband is killed and you’re married off like Penelope,” I muttered.
“Good point, Ms. Fitzgerald. So if staying true isn’t the lesson, what is?” He raised his clichéd glasses up his nose.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe not to piss off the gods. Not to make choices that bring you more suffering than fate has doled out, because then they just keep it coming.”
And then they fuck with your transcript.
“And what happens when you obey the gods? Is there still suffering?”
They wake up your boyfriend’s comatose girlfriend just to watch the drama.