Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Peach
OXOX – Dutch Melrose, Lost Boy
I t’s been almost a week since the ominous message from Hermes, and I haven’t heard from them again. Their last post was outing Miles, some guy from the lacrosse team after he cheated on his studious girlfriend with a cheerleader, and she didn’t do anything about it. What did everyone think? That she would fight her? Scream and cry on the lacrosse field to get him back? The girl moved on, good for her.
I’m sitting on a chair outside my professor’s office, scrolling through my SFU private messages and looking at the one Hermes sent me over and over again. I had never been sent a private message from them before. They’re an account that loves public attention, and if they haven’t mentioned my name in relation to that murder, they want something.
I just don’t know what yet.
But I won’t answer, and I won’t play their game. They have nothing against me, nothing that says I was with Ania that night. Or at least no more and no less than the hundreds of other people who were partying at our sorority house.
“Penelope, hi. Please, come in.”
I look up at Professor Lopez, putting my phone away and gathering my folder of documents.
Following him inside, I sit down as he points at the chair in front of his desk. He settles behind it, and I put the folder on top of the countless other paperwork he has.
“For you.” I smile brightly, the excitement from almost four years of passionate work bubbling in my stomach.
He shakes his head. “I don’t need it. I read everything you sent to my assistant.”
“Did you? I didn’t think he’d even have time to read them.”
“Is there anything new in this?” His gaze drops to the folder.
“Only graphs to put some numbers in a simple way, but no new research from what I’ve sent to Jonathan.” His assistant is a PhD student who rarely thinks there’s anything good enough to pass on to Professor Lopez. He’s a filter if I’ve ever seen one.
The fact that he didn’t get back to me to tell me he’d forwarded my research to our professor should be a good thing. Jonathan hates people who do good. He wants to be the only special person to Professor Lopez. In this class, there are only two students who can get his attention. Me…and Wren. And fuck if we’ve turned Advanced Innovation in Science Engineering into the most competitive class for ourselves. It's me and him constantly fighting for first spot, and Wren currently holds it. The man majors in bioengineering, and sometimes I think he took this course just to piss me off.
Professor Lopez nods to himself, scratching his salt-and-pepper messy beard. It’s short, but so unkept.
“So,” I say tentatively as I squirm in my seat. “Do you think it’s good enough for my masters application? I know SFU Engineering has very limited spots, especially Environmental sciences. But I don’t know, I think I’m onto something here. I just want to be able to do more research, have access to more people. I need more time, but?—”
“Grad school?” He chuckles to himself. “This is a one-way ticket right here, no questions asked. But it’s not what I’m worried about.”
I gulp, hating that there’s something worrying him. I’ve been so confident about this paper, have put so much energy into it that it’s flawless to me.
“What are you worried about?”
“Well, this is almost perfect. I’m worried about how we’re going to improve it to submit it to the E.E.A.J.”
The world stops spinning for a second.
“W-what?”
His stoic face breaks into a smile.
“You want to submit my work to the Environmental Engineering American Journal… Are you joking?”
He shakes his head. “Do you need sugar, Penelope? You look pale.”
“I think I’m going to faint.”
“Take a breather,” he says with a soft laugh.
There’s a mix of hope, excitement, and complete anxiety running through my veins.
“I can’t… It’s not ready.”
“No, it’s not. But we can absolutely work on it, and then submit it. You’ve done remarkable research on this. It’s innovative, interesting, and it would really show Howard Corall who’s best.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. Corall is from the Harvard postgrad school, and he and Professor Lopez have a long-standing competition on who has the best students.
"You really stuck it to Wren Hunter with this one, didn't you?" His joking tone tells me he's been following Wren and I's competition.
"Could you say this on camera?" I ask, teasing but also dead serious. "That would really stick it to him."
"Let's not push it." He tilts his head to the side. “Welcome to the big game. You’re about to enter a whole new competitive world.”
“I’m ready,” I spurt out right away. “I’m going to nail this.” I sound like I’m on coke, I’m so fired up, but I’m going to crush this paper. Being published in the E.E.A.J. means being eligible for an environmental engineering award. And an award could one day lead to a Nobel Prize. That’s a lifetime goal.
“Alright, hold your horses.” His eyebrows pinch, and he takes a deep breath. “This isn’t only going to be a lot of work. The journal will look into your life”—his eyes dart around my face—“intricately. They’ll look into your past, your present, and will decide your future.”
I gulp, the first thing coming to my mind being the message from Hermes. Not only that, but all the things they posted publicly about me in the past.
“That sounds scary,” I admit.
“It is. The world of science is competitive, invasive, and damn corrupted. You can’t just be a scientific genius, but you also have to be a perfect human being with no skeletons in your closet. Or I can promise you, they’ll find them and expose them. Anything to stop someone from shaking the people already established in that world.”
He pauses, looking pointedly at me. “You’ve got a reputation on this campus, Penelope.”
My mouth drops open. “Professor, I can promise you that whatever you heard wouldn’t affect my work.”
“Being a”—he searches for the correct words—“ party girl isn’t the end of the world, though it isn’t exactly going to lead you to an award.” He hesitates. There’s clearly worse to come. “But being a near drug addict is most definitely going to stop you from being published. It’s not a good look on the E.E.A.J.”
I can feel the blood draining from my face. “So,” I rasp. “Even professors read gossip accounts, I see.” I can’t hide the disappointment from my voice.
“It’s a way to keep up with student safety.”
“But Hermes lies. I’m not… This is stupid. I’m not a fucking drug addict .” I struggle to keep the anger down, correcting myself right away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. It-it’s frustrating. People read that stupid account and believe it blindly. I thought you’d know me better than that.”
He puts an appeasing hand on his desk, almost where mine is resting while still making sure he isn’t touching me. “I don’t believe anything that account says. I’m warning you, the E.E.A.J. board members will use it against you. They might or might not believe it, but it doesn’t matter; they will use it. Other people will too. Hell, Professor Corall will be the first one to send them the posts.”
I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “Is this the mafia or something?”
“Pretty much.” He laughs, eyebrows lifting. “Penelope, I have great plans for you. You’re the most splendid student I’ve had in a very long time. Science flows in your veins. You’re destined for a Nobel Prize. I want you to succeed, and for that, I need you to have the most spotless life. You need to work, eat, and breathe Environmental Engineering until we get you exactly where we want you.”
It's all I can see now. That message.
You and I are going to have a lot of fun this year, little murderer.
I scratch my throat, making sure I keep pretending everything is fine. “Of course. I’ll be leading the perfect scientist’s life. You can count on me.”
“I trust you.”
I force a smile on my face. “I truly appreciate this opportunity, Professor Lopez.”
“Good. Enjoy your classes this afternoon. I’ll be sending you detailed comments about your work by the end of the day, so you can get started tonight.”
“Sure thing.” I grab my bag as I stand up, smoothing my burgundy uniform skirt.
With Silver Falls University being the same private institution as Stoneview Preparatory School, where we all went to study, it has the same horrible dress code. It means all undergrad students must still wear a uniform. It was burgundy and midnight blue at Stoneview Prep, and the SFU one is burgundy and black. All it does is reinforce that feeling of the special bubble we live in. The postgrads look like they’ve at least seen some of the real world since they can dress however they want. We’re still looking like the little kids they breed in Stoneview. The ones who don’t know shit.
“Have a good day, Professor,” I say as I close his office door.
I pull my phone out as I walk through the dark hallway of the science building. It’s one of the oldest on campus, and I tend to wear sneakers here because the stone floor is so uneven. Shadows usually creep up the wall when it’s empty, but it’s full of people right now, and I nod at a lot of familiar faces.
As I head to my class, I send a message to the group with all my best friends.
Peach: I’m not having drinks with you losers tonight. Lopez loved my work so much he’s helping me get it ready for the freaking E.E.A.J.
Texts from them come right away.
Ella: Oh my god, Peach. Congrats!! You’re the best.
Alex: Congratulations! You’re exceptional. All that hard work is paying off.
Achilles: The polar bears must be so happy. Have a drink with us to celebrate.
Peach: Shut up, Achilles.
I take a picture of myself with my paper and pull a middle finger before sending it to Wren personally.
Peach: Lopez said I'm the most SPLENDID student he's had in a while. Eat that, fucker. Next pic you get will be my Nobel Prize.
Wren: I’m so proud of you.
My heart skips a beat at his instant response. Where’s our usual back-and-forth? These words hit differently. It’s the thought behind it, the person they come from. They’re everything I wanted to hear. And fuck, I think he knows it.
Wren: But he hasn't seen my paper yet…so be prepared to lose his attention.
I let out a small breath, half-relieved, half-wondering why I loved it so much when he was proud of me. I spend the day opening our chat and reading that message again. In class, I’m smiling to myself.
But by the time I get home and it's time to work on my notes for my project, I shut it all down. My focus has to stay on what matters, not how I feel around my best friend.