Chapter 5 Alex
ALEX
“Get back in here, Hebert. I want to talk to you.”
Randall was so drunk he was slurring his words and swaying.
I doubted talking was what was on his mind.
He’d hated me since we’d pledged together last year.
I didn’t have time for this—our first assignment for Dr. Theriot was past due now, but if I turned it in by midnight, I’d just get a ten-point deduction.
Randall grabbed me before I could make it out the door of the lounge. Fuck. I did not want to do this. “What’s your problem?”
“You following Ellie around. Thinking she’s into you. She’s mine.”
“No. She’s not interested in you. I walked her home. That’s all.”
“Liar. I’ve seen you with her.”
We’d eaten lunch a few times because she was in my psych class. “Leave her alone.”
He roared and smashed the bottle in his hand against a table. I fought to get away, but before I could, he brought the broken bottle down, slashing it across my face.
“What the fuck, Randall?” His friend Thad grabbed him, trying to get him off me.
“Fuck you,” I yelled. When my arm was free, I punched him in the jaw. He fell back, hit his head on a table, and slumped to the floor.
He lay unmoving, and for a moment, I worried I’d killed him.
“Is he okay?” Mitch had appeared beside me.
Randall stirred then, and Thad gestured toward the door. “You better get out of here.”
Part of me wanted to stay and have it out, and part of me wished he were dead, but Mitch tugged me into Clyde and Thomas’s room, which was next to the lounge.
Once we were in the room, I began to realize how badly my face hurt. Blood was running down my cheek, and I looked around for something to press against the cut and staunch the bleeding. I quickly realized nothing in this room was clean enough to risk. So I pressed my hand against my face.
Clyde’s eyes were huge as he watched me. “Shit, Alex. That looks deep.”
“No shit,” Mitch said. “That’s what happens when somebody slashes your face with a broken bottle.”
“You probably need stitches, man,” Thomas said. “You don’t want that scar.”
No, of course not. I had to stay perfectly unmarred for the sake of the family. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a murmur. Was I in shock?
“What?” Mitch tilted his head, studying me.
I shook my head. “Nothing.” My cheek was throbbing. I needed to at least wash the cut out, make sure there wasn’t any glass caught in it. Did I really need stitches?
When I tried to stand up, the room spun around me. I reached for the edge of Clyde’s desk so I could stay upright.
“Man, are you all right?” Mitch asked.
“I’m fine.” I held tightly to the doorframe. My feet didn’t seem to want to stay under me, and my knees didn’t want to work.
“Fuck, man, you’re about to pass out.”
I sank to the floor and leaned back against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”
“What happened in there?” Thomas asked.
Mitch explained, which was good because I couldn’t seem to string two thoughts together. “Randall got pissed that Alex took Ellie home last weekend and then had lunch with her. He’s a fucking idiot.”
Thomas knelt beside me and gently pulled my hand away from my cheek. He sucked in his breath when he saw the wound. “Fuck, Alex, that looks bad.”
He had to be exaggerating. I let my head drop back and tried to take a slow breath. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I so lightheaded? It was just a cut.
“It’s bad, Alex,” Mitch confirmed. “I think you need stitches.” He held out a hand. “Come on. We’re going to go get you taken care of.”
“Fuck, no. I don’t want to go to the emergency room.”
“They might have the emergency clinic at Student Health,” one of the other guys said.
At that point, I wasn’t really tracking everything that was going on.
When was the last time I’d eaten or had any water? Fuck, I wasn’t sure. Then I remembered I had been about to finish my essay for Dr. Theriot. “I don’t have time for stitches. I’ve got homework to do.”
“Jesus, Alex,” Thomas said. “You’re not doing homework in this state, and I don’t think any of your profs want your face to fall apart.”
“No, it’s your best asset. Go get it taken care of.” Was that Clyde speaking?
“Call Rob. He can sew me up.” Rob was a Chi Rho who was in medical school now. His brother was in our pledge class. “My uncle might be at the ER.” My uncle was a trauma surgeon at the local hospital, and I did not want him to know about this, at least not right now.
I ended up with eight stitches and a stern talking-to from Rob about taking better care of myself. He insisted I drink a Gatorade and try to eat something when I got home. The whole process took until well past the midnight deadline for my essay.
By the time Mitch and I got back to the frat, I’d made a plan.
For any other class, I would’ve just talked to the professor the next day.
It was obvious from the stitches in my cheek that I’d had an accident.
Dr. Theriot wasn’t going to want to hear that.
He was a hard-ass about deadlines—at least that’s what everyone said—and I’d already blown past the regular due date and waited until the last section for the final chance.
I wanted coffee, but I needed hydration, so I refilled my water bottle instead, then went to my room.
The thought of food still made me queasy.
I pulled up my notes on the essay, turned them into actual paragraphs, included my references, and read back through everything, hoping I had enough brainpower to find any errors.
I pulled up our class site and found the folder for turning it in.
The turn-in feature was already unavailable.
My head ached. He’d said he didn’t extend time for anyone, and obviously, he was deadly serious.
I now had a zero on my first assignment for the only professor I cared about impressing.
My cheek felt like it was on fire, and I felt nauseous and shaky. What a great fucking start to the week.
I desperately needed sleep, but I set my alarm for eight.
I wasn’t going to risk running into Randall before I could get out of the house.
If it didn’t hurt, I’d laugh at the ridiculousness of me taking a girl from him.
Of course, if he knew I was gay, he might be just as likely to beat me up for that. Motherfucker.
When I woke up the next morning, I filled my thermos with coffee and a sausage biscuit from the kitchen, then took the bus to the main part of campus.
I doubted I was up for the walk. I felt better once I had food and caffeine in my system, but I was still unsteady.
I started to wonder if I’d hit my head and just didn’t remember it.
Rob said I looked fine otherwise, but damn, I felt out of it.
Why did I pledge this fucking fraternity? They’d made my first semester hell, and I only liked a few of the other guys.
You could quit.
I could, but all I could think about was my uncle telling me that Heberts weren’t quitters. He’d said them when I’d wanted to drop piano lessons in seventh grade, when I wanted to quit the high school soccer team because of the asshole coach, and countless other times.
I considered skipping organic chemistry and taking a nap in a library cubicle before I parked myself in front of Dr. Theriot’s office and waited to plead my case.
It wouldn’t matter if I went to see him with bed head.
I was already going to look like hell, and my whole fantasy of him falling for me was stupid as shit anyway.
I needed to focus on convincing him to take my paper.
I couldn’t let anything ruin my GPA, or my uncle might cut off my funds.
I decided it would be too hard to wake up if I napped, so I got some espresso and wandered around campus until it was almost time for class.
I stopped in the student center and quickly printed out my paper so I could hand it to Dr. Theriot personally.
Then I went to organic chem and sat through the lecture but didn’t hear a word of it.
Afterward, I headed to Dr. Theriot’s office, hoping to catch him there, even though it wasn’t time for office hours yet. I was too impatient to wait any longer. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
“Come in,” he called. I opened the door and left it open, even though I didn’t want to. When he looked up, his eyes widened. “Alexander. You look like you had a rough night.”
“I did.” I reached into my bag, pulled out my paper, and laid it on his desk.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s my assignment. I printed it out for you since you seem to like old-fashioned things.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not that old.”
“No, like it’s your aesthetic.” I gestured toward the analog clock and the typewriter.
“The final chance to turn in the paper was midnight. That was over twelve hours ago.”
“I know it’s late. I’m sorry.”
“As I told the class, I give students the opportunity to turn in an assignment late for a grade deduction. Once that grave period passes, you receive a zero.”
“I had an accident,” I said, pointing to my cheek.
“You could’ve finished the paper yesterday or for the actual deadline on Friday.”
“I could have, but I didn’t. I understand if you want to take points off, but I have a legitimate medical excuse.”
He studied me for a moment.
“What kind of accident did you have?”
“I… I don’t want to talk about it.”
He nodded.
“If your accident had prevented you from making the original deadline, then we could discuss options. But your paper was already late.”
I wanted to scream because I’d opened my laptop to work on it before Randall attacked me. I had already done the research. “Please just read it. I wrote a damn good paper. You have no idea what kind of night I had.”
“I can imagine.”
“No, I don’t think you can.” I stood and hurried out of his office, slamming the door shut behind me. I was about to have a meltdown, and there was no way in hell I was going to let him see me cry.
Thank God no one I knew was out in the hall. I pushed my way into the closest bathroom, ran into a stall, and pressed my hands against my eyes, trying to hold back tears.