Extra Credit (Fenton U #1)

1. Calista

ONE

CALISTA

P rofessor Hamilton stood at his podium in front of the seminar room, unaware that the fate of my future rested in his weathered hands.

It was Monday—everyone’s least favorite day of the week.

This was especially true of the seniors in any of the upper-level biology classes.

Not because the weekend was over and classes were back in session, but because Mondays were the day Professor Hamilton handed back our bi-weekly papers.

He smiled at the group of students in front of him.

It would have seemed sweet if it weren’t for the mischievous gleam in his beady eyes.

Unlike the rest of us, Professor Hamilton thrived off Mondays.

He patted the stack of papers under his arm as he addressed the class.

“While there was an improvement, the majority of your papers were largely underwhelming.” The elderly man paced behind his desk for a moment before continuing.

“I was hoping to see connections made outside what we have discussed within these four walls, however only a handful of you provided that for me. ”

An anxious shiver ran through my spine. I had made sure to include references from other scholarly sources—as per his past feedback. Even then, I wasn’t sure if it would be enough.

I was a generally good student. Maybe I didn't have a photographic memory like my best friend, Harper, but I put in the effort and diligence for the grades I received. The frustrating bit was that it didn’t seem to matter when it came to Professor Hamilton’s courses.

“If you have any questions about your mark, you can come to discuss it with me after class.” He waited for a moment. Then he nodded and stepped around the desk, dress shoes thudding against the floor.

The rest of the seminar room hushed as our professor began to hand out the assignments. Tension was thick in the air as he fumbled around. Everyone was praying for the same thing: a passing grade.

“How do you think you did, Cali?” A voice whispered to my left.

Divya, another student from my nursing program, peered at me with large doe-like eyes.

Not knowing what to say, I gave her a shrug.

I had spent multiple nights laboring over this report—as I did with anything Hamilton assigned. After having him for my sophomore and junior years, I had become accustomed to his unrealistically high expectations. But even I couldn’t confirm that I was safe.

“How about you?” I asked. “How are you feeling about this one?”

“Honestly…” she mumbled. “Not too confident.”

Our conversation came to a halt as Professor Hamilton reached our end of the long desk .

“Splendid job, Calista,” Professor Hamilton said, placing my report face down on the tabletop.

A sense of relief washed over me, and I smiled as he passed. “Thank you, Professor.”

Hamilton graded papers with an iron fist. The moment he was out of earshot, I flipped the report over. My stomach swooped low and nearly splattered against the floor. Another freaking mediocre grade was scribbled on the top corner in red ink. I wanted to bang my head down on the desk in defeat.

“What’d you get?” Divya asked, neck craning to see what I was mentally berating myself over.

I slid my report across the table towards her. “Seventy-eight percent.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “That’s an A+ by Hamilton’s standards. I’ll trade you for my sixty-four?”

I fixed a half-hearted smile on my face at Divya’s attempt to cheer me up. She was right. A seventy-eight was considered exceptional by Hamilton’s standards. But it wasn’t enough for me.

Soon, he finished handing out the rest of the papers and returned to his podium at the front of the room.

Even from the sixth row, I could see his thick, white mustache twitch as he spoke.

Professor Hamilton was part of the furniture at Fenton University and a beloved member of the faculty since it first opened its doors in 1969.

Devoted wasn’t a good enough word to describe his time at Fenton.

He was unrelenting in the way many Ivy League professors were—ramming our syllabus with additional readings that would surely be mentioned in the midterms, as well as the final exam.

And he wasn’t known for handing out opportunities.

Not when he knew we were already well aware of how lucky we were to have a seat in his lectures .

Walter Hamilton was one of the most highly regarded professors in the state of New York.

He had numerous ground-breaking medical studies under his name, and because of that, many people within the industry regarded him as an expert in medicine and scientific study.

He was exactly the person I needed in my corner.

He didn't know it yet, but he was my one-way ticket to the master's program of my dreams.

In a few short months, I’d be applying to the Master of Nursing program at Fenton. That’s what the last four years had been about. It had been a dream of mine since I was a little girl—something I needed to do in order to shed the guilt I’d been carrying around with me.

After his closing remarks, students began to file out of their seats.

“Wonderful lecture today, Professor.” I beamed, stepping next to the podium. “I can honestly say that pathobiochemistry is not one of the most exhilarating topics, but you make it that much more enjoyable.”

I might be a brown-noser, but a liar I was not.

Professor Hamilton peered up over the top of his tiny spectacles, a surplus of notes and papers scattered in front of him.

I could only imagine that’s what the inside of his head looked like as well.

Hamilton was a genius. And I didn’t mean that lightly.

There were times during class when he would go off on tangents that rattled my own brain.

These bouts of verbal diarrhea could go on for minutes before he remembered where he was and found his way back to his lecture slides.

It’s a wonder he was able to get through a lecture.

“Why thank you, Calista.” His thick facial hair shifted with his grin. “I hope you took ample notes. There will be a sizable section with this theme in the final.”

I shared a smile with him. “I always do.”

“Did you have any questions about the paper that was returned to you today? It was very well written. I quite enjoy reading your insights.”

“Thank you. I was actually very pleased with the grade I received. But I hope to improve for the next one.”

Okay, maybe a white lie every once in a while didn’t hurt.

Professor Hamilton shuffled around the papers sprawled out in front of him, stacking them into a messy pile. Nerves building around what I was about to do bubbled in my chest.

It’s now or never.

“Actually,” I swallowed. “If you don’t mind, I do have a question to ask you.”

The professor didn’t even look up when he hummed for me to go ahead.

“I was planning on applying to the Master of Nursing program here at Fenton following graduation. Knowing how respected you are amongst the faculty, I was hoping I would be able to get a letter of recommendation from you.”

Professor Hamilton brushed his papers into his laptop bag.

“While I’m honored you’d come to me, it isn’t very often that I supply students with references anymore. Don’t mistake me; you are a phenomenal student, Calista, a promising member of academia, however, my expectations for those who request references go beyond being a well-versed student.”

The room was too hot all of a sudden. My plan was about to backfire before I even had a chance to put it into action. “I understand. Is there any way I could go about earning that reference from you? ”

He placed a shaky hand on his chin.

“How about tutoring?” I rushed out. There was no time to lick the wound that he had inflicted. “I could tutor someone? Surely that goes above and beyond being a well-versed student?”

I was grasping at straws. I was already writing a thesis for my program and participating in practicum and other volunteer opportunities. What else did he want from me?

Mr. Hamilton was silent for a long, excruciating moment. The wrinkles in his forehead dug in deeper before he let out a laugh.

“You know what… I’ll take you up on that offer,” he croaked out, swiveling to face me head-on. “I have a student in mind who could use someone like you.” He shook his pointer finger, eyes glazed over as he went over the details in his head. “Yes, this may work.”

I waited for him to come back down to earth. His frosty blue eyes bore into me. “I have a senior student in one of my advanced anatomy courses who could use your expertise.”

Pride swelled in my chest. “That’s wonderful. I’d be happy to help.”

“Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands together. “If you can successfully tutor this student and help him pass the course, I will reward you with that reference letter you are so keen on receiving.”

That was it? Tutoring? That was the secret to obtaining Hamilton’s sacred seal of approval? I would make it happen. Even if that meant being forced to run on fewer hours of sleep than I already was.

“Really?” I asked, suspicion clear on my face.

Professor Hamilton replied with a closed smile. “If you are willing to put the time and effort into teaching someone as apathetic as this particular student, you’re well deserving of my reference. And it would help get his partisans off my back.”

“I won’t let you down, Professor.” Relief washed over me for a moment before a mischievous light sparked in his eyes.

“Good luck, Calista.”