5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
October, Seattle: Frankie
O ver the next several weeks, Frankie put in the work. She focused all her time studying, apart from the sporadic quest to restock the fridge at the grocery store or take-out restaurant.
She’d even managed to find a third-year law student to work with once a week for a reasonable fee. Studying with a tutor was an absolute game-changer. The weekly session, paired with the library books Rayne had picked out, helped Frankie see the case law more clearly.
Even the book Professor Clark recommended was helpful when she studied solo. She was glad he’d suggested it, even if she was a little resentful of his comment that first day in class.
Even someone like you will be able to follow it.
Elitist bastard.
As promised, the few precious hours of study time she spent shopping for professional clothes with Todd boosted her confidence. She traded her favorite worn tank tops and distressed jeans for black leggings, conservative blouses and sweaters, and neutral flats. With her honey-colored hair pulled back in a neat bun and a subtle layer of makeup, playing the part of the studious academic was that much easier.
Maybe easier wasn’t quite the right word.
Despite spending all of her free time buried in books, her fantasy of spouting off the correct answer in class remained just that—a fantasy. Because even though she’d stride into that classroom brimming with confidence, the moment Professor Prick leveled that condescending glare on her, all bets were off. His piercing midnight eyes and commanding presence inevitably left her tongue-tied. If anything came out of her mouth at all, it never made any sense. Inevitably, the garbled string of consciousness left her in an inferno of shame, with her ears burning and her skin itchy beneath her clothes.
Occasionally, her answers came out semi-cogent, and an initial warmth of pride would bloom in her chest. For once her cheeks would glow from success instead of embarrassment.
Until Clark, with eyes continuing to cut through her, opened his mouth and said something like, “Mr. Smith, please tell Miss Miller where she erred.” Or, “Miss Kennedy, please explain to Miss Miller why her statement was incorrect.” All while that stupid, smug smirk tugged at his ridiculously plump lips.
After each class session, Frankie would study that much harder. She knew she’d get it eventually. And finally, on one sunny Friday afternoon, something clicked. The light switch finally flicked on, and everything she’d been reading made perfect sense.
That next Monday morning crept back around, and she marched into class, allowing herself a sliver of optimism. She opened her laptop, laid out her notes, all highlighted in bright sunny yellow, and waited to be called on.
“Miss Miller,” the haughty inquisitor boomed in the bored voice of a man who knew what to expect.
“Yes, Professor Clark.” She could hear the class turn in their seats, ready to eat up the humiliating exchange and leave no crumbs behind.
“What are the key elements of Obergefell v. Hodges ?”
Like a woman possessed—with legal knowledge—she spouted off the pertinent information in a clear and concise manner. She didn’t leave any important bit out, nor did she provide too much information. She got the lingo correct. And more importantly, she made Professor Clark pause in his rapid-fire demand for information.
The man actually paused .
He blinked a few times, adjusted the glasses perched on his nose, and then looked down at his list. “And, Mr. Trenton, what triggered the court’s ruling?”
Be cool. Be cool.
Frankie couldn’t help the smile that spread uncontrollably across her face as she managed to hold back a celebratory hell yeah!
She’d finally done it. It took her a few weeks, but she’d cracked the code to successfully participate in the daunting class. She casually glanced around the room. A couple students gave her a little smile or a brief nod. One guy a little older than her even flashed a quick thumbs-up—hidden behind his computer of course—as if to say way to go, kid.
When class was dismissed, Frankie leisurely packed her belongings. She continued floating on cloud nine and for once wasn’t in a mortified rush to exit the building. She hauled her computer bag over her shoulder and adjusted her sweater to lay correctly under the strap. She was nearly out the door, when a deep voice barked from the lectern.
“Miss Miller, a moment.”
Frankie froze and cringed before she turned, wearing a calm mask. “Yes, Professor Clark.”
“I see you took my advice.”
“Oh, about the book and a tutor?”
He leveled a critical gaze on her.
“Have I given you any other advice?” he asked with humorless sarcasm.
Asshole must be his default setting.
She chose not to let it fluster her. “Thank you for recommending the book. It’s been helpful. Along with a hefty stack recommended by Rayne in the—”
“Are you prepared for the midterm on Monday?” He studied her over the rim of his glasses, his expression a cocktail of scorn and boredom.
“I’m getting there.” Fidgeting under his perusal, she forced herself to hold still. She’d done well in class, and deserved to be in that lecture hall just as much as the rest of the students. Professor Clark was intimidating, but his hostile tactics weren’t going to beat her down anymore.
“Law exams are completely different than any soft, undergraduate tests you have taken in the past. I hope, for your sake, your tutor is adequately preparing you for the event.”
“I believe I have it under control,” she sniped back, shoulders squared.
“Because if you don’t get a C or above, you will not be permitted to resume my class. Is that clear?”
Frankie flinched at his admonishing tone as tiny cracks formed in the veneer of her momentary confidence. “Of course, Professor Clark.”
Once again, he didn’t nod or make so much as a grunt before turning his attention back to the papers on his podium.
She’d been dismissed.
QUIET PLEASE
TESTING IN PROGRES S
The laminated notice, in all its caps lock glory, was anything but quiet. It screamed at Frankie, reminding her that the next three hours would dictate whether she’d be allowed to remain in Professor Clark’s demanding family law class. No amount of preparation had been effective in shaking her nerves, and she remained anxious despite her tutor’s assurances that she knew the material.
A tall, slender woman pushed through the door and propped it open with a stopper. “Family law midterm, Professor Clark. Fifteen minutes until the exam begins. The doors will lock at commencement. Do not be late.”
Frankie filed in with the rest of her classmates. An unsettling hush emphasized the tension that rippled throughout the auditorium as everyone found a spot. She unloaded her allowed supplies: computer, pens, blank papers (to be left with the proctor following the midterm), refillable water bottle, and snacks. Many of the professors allowed their students to use notes and even casebooks in their exams. But not Clark. Nope. He wanted to test his students blind in order to, as he put it, “separate the weak from the strong and thin the herd.”
She checked her watch and decided she had enough time to use the restroom and get water. At the fountain, as a steady stream of cold water filled her Nalgene, she felt a familiar chill creep up the back of her neck. Frankie turned and froze. Professor Clark stood at the end of the hallway, mid-stride, staring at her. Though he was some distance away, his frigid glare was unmistakable.
Frankie raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in a friendly—ok, fine—mocking wave. Was she poking the bear with her taunt? Sure. But she refused to allow his childish intimidation tactics to sabotage the countless hours she spent buried in her casebooks.
He huffed and then stomped away, probably off to blow down some poor sap’s house of straw. She found odd satisfaction in bothering him as much as he bothered her.
Imbued with a sudden rush of confidence, Frankie knew to her core that she was going to ace that test and take great pleasure rubbing Professor Prick’s nose in it the rest of the quarter.