22. Priestley
PRIESTLEY
I’m distracted enough by Will that classes and study sessions meld into one another.
We slip into a comfortable routine. Will fits studying in around his jobs at the coffee shop and hockey rink. I make sure to check on Jamie as often as I can between long bouts at the library fueled by caffeine and day-old pastries Will brings home from work.
We try not to talk about the leaderboard. Try not to think about the competition. Whoever said sticking your head in the sand didn’t come with its advantages had obviously never been in a rivals with benefits situation with someone who looks like Will O’Reilly.
We don’t talk about the sex. And we only ever do it at my apartment. It’s easier to keep it compartmentalized that way.
I try not to dwell on how differently I feel around him.
Or the fact his mother asks about me every time they talk.
Or how nice that feels. I try to ignore the sense of unease I get every time I speak to my father now.
Try not to balk too hard any time I spot any similarities between us.
My father is my role model and I want to be like him, don’t I?
Only a new and improved, modernized version.
I also try to ignore how familiar Will’s body has become. The softness in his touches and the lack of goading required. The lingering kisses—I definitely ignore how good those make me feel.
We work on our individual assignments for the end of semester grade separately, but share ideas and talk about them without being too specific. As time passes by, we settle into a routine my subconscious knows can’t last.
Before we know it, it’s the end of term and we’re heading to our last class of the semester.
We’ve known this moment was coming, of course. But now it’s finally here, every fiber of my being fights against walking into that room.
When we receive our final grade for the semester, we will know once and for all who is top of the leaderboard. Who has won and will be awarded the internship and who will miss out.
My skin buzzes as I sit next to Will in the classroom. Professor Moreno is saying something, but I can’t tune into her voice. All I hear is Will’s breathing. All I see is him bouncing his knee in the navy blue chinos he wears for class.
“Now,” Professor Moreno says. Something about the change in tone snaps me out of my reverie and I sit up, paying attention.
“I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats, wondering who came out on top.”
This woman is a sadist. When she looks at me, I force a friendly smile. Pretend I’m not trying to crawl out of my skin.
She turns, taking an eraser to the leaderboard and wiping it clean. Someone takes a sharp intake of breath, but I can’t take my eyes away from the board for long enough to see who it was.
Faster than I would have liked, Professor Moreno starts jotting names down, from bottom to top. I spot Peter Chow breathe a sigh of relief when he isn’t placed in last place. He doesn’t even care that his name is second-to-last.
The list continues, and I hold my breath until we get to number three and have to let it out again.
Is Professor Moreno hesitating? Is she conflicted about something?
I tell myself I can complain if she doesn’t put me top of the board.
She’s given me ample reason to believe she holds prejudices against me, and while ‘rich’ and ‘spoiled’ may not garner much sympathy, there are legal implications to a professor marking students down because of personal vendettas.
But then I think about how hard Will works.
How intelligent he is and how talented at spotting problems and finding ways to solve them—in a way that minimizes the impact on actual human beings.
Professor Moreno is right—that is the kind of person we need running the finance world.
Someone who can see the power of money in our society, and find a way to garner that power for something good.
Whether he’ll be able to do it or not is another question.
But at the very least, I know he’ll try.
Professor Moreno writes an A in the number three spot. She looks pained to have to do it. She clearly likes and is rooting for Alice Liang. So, maybe she is putting all personal prejudices aside for this final grade?
After writing Alice’s name into the number three spot, Professor Moreno turns around. “You should be incredibly proud, Alice.”
I don’t look at Alice to see her reaction. Is it because I feel guilty? Surely not. I don’t care how Alice Liang feels about her grade, do I?
Before I can think about that any further, Professor Moreno turns back to the board and presses the marker to it. The second she draws a straight line instead of the slightly slanted one of a W, I know it’s me.
The scary thing is—I don’t feel the way I thought I would.
2: Priestley Rosenthal
I take a deep breath. Force myself to stare at the name. My world doesn’t implode. The walls don’t come crumbling down around me.
Professor Moreno turns to me.
“I’ll chat with you after class, Priestley. But … well done.” She gives me a small smile. It holds more warmth than I’ve ever received from her.
“And now.” Her face brightens. “That means, in the number one spot …”
She turns back to the leaderboard to write Will’s name at the very top.
“Congratulations, Will,” she says.
People start to clap. I join in.
I can feel him watching me, wanting me to give him some sort of sign as to how I’m feeling, but I can’t right now. I don’t even know.
I slip out from behind the desk and see him glance at me while he walks out of the room. A part of me wants to follow him, but I wait for Professor Moreno to be ready for me instead.
“Priestley, well done,” she says.
“Thank you.”
“I hope you know that I marked your work without prejudice.”
“I’m sure you did.”
She smiles. “Will really did have the best essay.”
“I know.”
I spot the miniscule raising of an eyebrow and try not to blush.
She looks down and starts rifling through some papers on the desk.
“I went to the liberty of organizing some internships you might be interested in over the summer.”
I open my mouth to speak but she interrupts me. “I’ve spoken to a few others, too, so you’ll be competing with your fellow students in the interview process.”
“Of course.”
“But I’m sure you’ll do well. You’re a very talented orator, Mr. Rosenthal.” She smirks.
“Thank you, Professor.”
She calls me back before I leave.
“I’d stay in touch with Will O’Reilly,” she says. “He brings out the best in you.”
Will’s waiting for me when I make it out of the building. He’s frowning, his backpack half open and flung over his shoulder like he wasn’t paying attention when he packed it.
“Hey, you okay? What did she say in there?”
“She wanted me to look at some internship opportunities.”
His pinched expression softens. “That’s good, right?”
I nod. Hum my tentative agreement.
He’s watching me like he’s waiting for a bomb to go off.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to lose my shit.”
His shoulders sag a little.
“I am going to sue you, though.”
“What?”
I laugh.
“Dick.”
“You won fair and square. Professor Moreno marked our papers without prejudice and yours was better. If she’d been prejudiced, she would have marked Alice Liang’s higher than mine. Everyone knows she’s a better person than I am.”
“Priestley.”
“It’s okay. I know I’ve been a dick.” I squirm. “I’m ashamed of that country club thing.”
“Oh … well … good, I guess.” He scratches behind his ear. “I mean, I don’t want you to be ashamed. It’s just good that you can see it, when you’re … less than admirable.”
I snort. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I think about ignoring it, but then I see Father flash up on the screen. I’m going to have to face the music at some point. Might as well do it now.
“I have to take this,” I tell Will.
“Meet you later?”
I nod, deciding I’ll figure that out when I have to.
“Hello, Father.”
“I want you to come in for a meeting this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” I think about all the things I could be doing with Will instead. Surprisingly they don’t all involve sex.
“It can’t wait. Leave now and get here as soon as you can.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Just don’t keep me waiting, Priestley.”
All the reasons my father could be so desperate to speak to me rush through my head as I take a cab from the train station to his office. After checking Jamie is okay, I realize nothing else really matters.
He is going to chew me out about being number two. It has to be that. He found out fast, but that’s my father. That’s what he does.
I expect to be kept waiting, but when I reach the office, I’m told my father is waiting for me and to go straight in.
He’s standing behind his desk, looking out at the view of the skyscrapers and construction work.
His office is so stereotypical of an old-fashioned CEO, it’s embarrassing.
Golf club with a putting mat in the corner.
A tray with whiskey and a decanter on an antique side table.
Expensive-looking paperweight holding down stacks of client files.
“So …” he says as I step inside and close the door behind myself. “Thwarted by an Irishman, hey?”
“Sorry?”
Father sighs, crossing the room to reach the whiskey decanter. He doesn’t ask me if I want one. He usually doesn’t so that’s no surprise.
“I’m disappointed, Priestley, but that goes without saying.”
I instinctively hang my head.
He lets out another big sigh. I keep my head hung while he loudly glugs his whiskey.
“Well, suppose there’s nothing to be done about it now. I knew that Moreno was going to be a problem. We’ll only cause more of a ruckus if we try to appeal the decision.”
“Professor Moreno has found some alternative internship options for me to look at over the summer, so—”
He raises a hand, cutting me off.
“Alternative options?”
I nod, feeling ten-years-old again. Summoned to Father’s office and trying desperately to figure out what he wants before he tells me. All those trick questions I was never fast enough to see coming. Not to mention the rhetorical ones you were never sure were meant to be rhetorical or not.
“You will be working here over the summer.”
“But I wasn’t top of the class, you said—”
“I know what I said,” he grumbles, losing his patience. “Do you really think I’m going to give some nobody scholarship student a prized internship over my own son?”
“Will earned that internship fair and square. He was the best student.”
“He was the best in Moreno’s eyes. Not mine.”
“He was the best, Father.”
His nostrils flare. He puts his empty glass down and crosses the room to his desk.
“You will begin work here as soon as your studies are done for the semester. That’s final.”
“With all due respect, Father, I’d rather you give the opportunity to Will.”
“My word is final.” When he speaks again, it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. “And that will be all.”
I hesitate. I want to argue. I’m about to, and then he looks at me and years of practiced submission kicks in and I keep my mouth clamped shut.
I leave the room, dazed.
Fuck.
Did that really just happen?
How much of my ‘hard-earned’ life have I actually earned? The presidency at Alpha Sigma Psi? Captain of the tennis team? My place at Princeton? The top grades in every class? Did Father have a hand in all those things?
There is only one person I want to speak to right now, and he is the one person I can’t turn to.
I stole his place, just like he knew I would.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the worst thing about the whole situation is that Will O’Reilly is going to hate me … again.