7. Haley
7
HALEY
T he next morning, Aunt Cindy dropped me off on campus a full hour before my first class would start. She had an appointment with a new specialist about a different medication, and the drive there would take her at least forty-five minutes.
Even though I was tired from not sleeping well, thanks to weird dreams and being awake with too many thoughts after them, I killed the time as productively as I could, rereading material and doing a crossword puzzle in the coffee shop nearest my first class. Sociology 301 wasn’t my favorite course, but it was easy once I put the effort into the papers and projects.
I tried to tune out the chatter around me as more students showed up and idled with coffees. Too many of them stood around the high counter I sat at. While it didn’t take much for my quota of being near people to be exceeded, I was not in the mood to hear the nonsense they all gossiped about.
That stupid party.
It was all that they talked about, that or the upcoming winter dance.
Davina was meeting me here in a few minutes, and I was sure she’d comment again about that party at the Wests’ mansion last night. The one where she claimed Eli had mentioned me.
As if I care.
I regretted not buying a cheapo replacement of earbuds over the Black Friday sales just a few months ago. Because not being able to hear the girls at the next table would’ve been bliss. I could only pretend I was deaf for so long.
“No, I slept with one of the players,” a short redhead told her friend over coffee. “I told you I was going to that party to get some.”
“Nice,” her friend said, grinning.
“I mean, I wanted to get Eli, but he got all pissy that I mistook him for one of the basketball players.” She huffed. “As if that matters.”
The other girl laughed. “Does it?”
“I don’t think so. If they’re hung, whatever. I just wanted some dick to ride. I don’t care what sport they play.”
“Hmm. The jocks always know how to make a girl feel good.”
I rolled my eyes, wishing they’d get up and go.
How could they think Eli played basketball? He wasn’t gangly and lanky, some too-tall freak of nature. Eli was lean and muscled, with those toned arms for throwing the football.
“Whatever. His loss,” the redhead said.
Yeah, right. His loss for one night. Eli never made it a secret that he liked to sleep around, considering himself some sort of Casanova.
“Hey,” Davina greeted as she walked up to me. She yawned, clutching the coffee cup she’d just bought like the steam wafting up from the top would be a lifeline to jolt her awake.
“Morning,” I replied, eyeing her as she sipped her drink, then groaned like she was Frankenstein getting up for the first time.
“Late night?” I teased as I set my books in my bag to walk with her.
“No.” She shrugged. “I left the party early. It got boring.”
“Oh.” I laughed as we walked out of the coffee shop. “And you wanted me to come.”
She snorted, going down the wide corridor with me that would connect to the wing our class was in. “As if you ever would.”
You got that right.
“It just wasn’t as fun as I thought it might be. But maybe I left too soon. It sounds like a ton of crazy shit happened after I left.”
“According to the gossip I overheard in there,” I said, tipping my head in the direction of the coffee shop we’d just exited, “it was a boozy sex fest like any other party.”
“Yeah. But I saw some posts that someone crashed a car?”
I frowned. “Great. Drunk drivers. Just what the world doesn’t need more of.”
“No. Not like driving . But I dunno. Something happened to one of Preston’s cars or something.” She sighed. “But that cute guy from my Statistics class wasn’t there. Or if he was, I didn’t see him.”
“You’re still waiting for him to notice you and ask you to that lame-ass dance?” I shot her a disapproving smirk. I was all for feminism in the sense that no girl should have to feel embarrassed to take the initiative and ask a guy to a dance or on a date. Or propose. If you knew what you wanted, go for it. Screw traditional sexist trends. But I saw no reason to even want to go to that winter dance, so it was all dumb.
“Maybe.” She smiled, seeming to perk up the more she drank. “Or we could go. You and me. Just so I can make sure you’ve had the experience of going to a dance.”
“No, thanks.”
She laughed lightly. “You’re so stubborn.”
“No. I’m so not a fan of wasting my time. It’s stupid, Dav. Those formals are just for the preppy, popular kids who treat college like an extension of high school. Not like they are preparing for a career and becoming a responsible adult.”
“Okay, but can’t you admit you are a teeny bit curious about what it would be like to go?”
I kept my face blank as I looked ahead. “No.”
“What about all those screenshots of dresses you got on your phone?” she teased.
I shouldn’t have let you see them.
“I was just noticing them. Ads popped up and stuff, and they were pretty.”
I’d never admit that I was curious about this dance. I didn’t go to any of the formals in high school. But my intrigue about this dance fell under the category of ridiculous wishful thinking like the idea of fitting in. Which wasn’t happening. Not here.
It didn’t help that I’d dreamed about it last night, too. First, I was trying dresses on. Then, I was at the dance but it was actually held at a zoo with animals escaping. And lastly, my dream world shifted to my being locked out from prom at the high school gym. All of it had been a bizarre mix of dreams that ruined my sleep.
But it does not mean I want to go.
Definitely not.
She shut up about it, clearly getting the hint that it wasn’t a topic I wanted to talk about. Or maybe she lost the energy to talk at all, just walking with me and waiting for the coffee to reboot her brain for the day.
We entered the sociology lecture room and took our seats to the side. I hated to sit in the front because that meant my back was to everyone else, a vulnerable position. Even if I didn’t have the trauma of some cruel classmates cutting my hair in high school when I had been assigned a front-row seat, I disliked the idea of not being able to see the whole room. The back was no good either because it was harder to see past everyone and take good notes. But the side was prime real estate. If an active shooter rushed in, an unfortunate worry in this day and age, we could be the furthest from the door.
Being the first ones here, we sat in our seats and waited for the rest of the class to file in. It wasn’t an auditorium size of a room, but larger than a standard classroom. It amazed me that so many people were enrolled in this course, though. It wasn’t an entry-level class that freshmen could fill up.
And there he is.
Even though I didn’t lift my face when Eli walked in, I knew he was there. I hated that I kept track of where he was, worried that something could be wrong with me to want to know where he was for any other reason than marking the path of my enemy. But that had to be it. I always sought him out just so I could be prepared and on the defense. I did it with Preston, too, noticing where he was in a room. The prey had to be mindful of the predators, after all.
Once the instructor came into the room—not a PhD but an adjunct who seemed to think she was qualified to teach this upper-level course—I paid attention and ignored all the other students. Today would be a breeze, too. She was only handing out papers then assisting students with research on an exercise we’d talk about at the end of the class.
Being paired with Eli for the last assignment had felt like the universe was giving me a middle finger, but we’d managed it. He was a slacker and I did most of the work, but then when he questioned my work, it turned into feeling like the longest project ever.
“Haley? Eli?” She sat at her desk, waiting for us to come up and get her paper. One of those old-fashioned teachers, she refused to let anyone turn in final work digitally since she was paranoid of copying. And she felt she had a “moral obligation to society” to make sure she “encouraged young people to be able to write by hand in this modern age.”
I headed up there, avoiding walking down the same aisle between desks that he went.
“While the content and effort put into this paper is acceptable,” she said, handing us two copies of our work, “you’ll notice your grade is lower than what you might have expected.” She stared us down over the top of her glasses.
I almost gasped at the score.
Eli shrugged. “A C is fine with me.”
I scowled at him. “It’s not okay with me!”
“It’s not my fault your standards are too high,” he retorted. He glared right back, and the angry expression only emphasized how ragged he looked. Tired, like he hadn’t even slept last night. It seemed that redhead gossiping in the coffee shop hadn’t slept with him, but he’d clearly had a busy night otherwise. Bags under his eyes suggested he was dehydrated. His red eyes proved he was exhausted, maybe even sick. But that wasn’t my concern. He was digging in to fight with me, like usual. If he wasn’t teasing me and bullying me, he was prepared to make my life suck in any other way he could. Like ruining my grades that I took pride in.
“My standards aren’t too high,” I replied hotly, but careful not to sound “dramatic” or “whiny” like he’d make fun of me for. “Yours are too pathetically low.”
“You’re—”
“And that’s why I docked your grades,” the teacher said, opening her clasped hands she’d tucked under her chin while she rested her elbows on her desk. Pointing a finger at both of us, she furrowed her brow. “You argued way too much.”
“You’re grading me based on whether I get along with him?” I asked, not caring if I sounded as incredulous as I felt.
This is unbelievable!
“No one can get along with her ,” Eli added.
“God, I can’t stand you,” I muttered.
“Likewise,” he shot back.
“I don’t care what your opinions are of me,” I replied, clenching my teeth not to scream it. “I never have.”
“Maybe you should,” he scoffed.
“No. I care what her opinions are so I can get the best grades possible.” I gestured at the teacher.
“And my opinion is that you both need the hard life lesson of getting along with others. For a paper composed about the value of teamwork in today’s society, it seems you both are failing to live what you learn.”
I held in a growl, ready to punch Eli’s amused expression right off his face. He thought this was all a joke! If I maintained straight As, I’d have a better chance of getting funding for grad school. But he didn’t care. He was just the dumb jock who got a kick out of seeing me suffer!
I thrust my arm down, not even waiting to look at the graded paper.
“If you would like to work together to redo the assignment and improve your grade, without arguing, then I’ll offer that option to you.”
“To work with her?” Eli huffed. “Again? Fuck no. No thanks.”
I opened and closed my mouth, too livid to even speak.
I hate you!
Crumpling the paper, I stormed away from both of them. That self-righteous teacher could kiss my ass. And Eli could go to hell. I was too damn mad, and maybe a little humiliated, to stand around here any longer.
I grabbed my bag and books, shot Davina a can you believe this bullshit look, then left early.
I never missed a class.
I never ditched.
But right now, the mere idea of being in the same room as that careless, selfish ass was way too much to bear.