Chapter 2
The Captain
"I 'm telling you guys . You should've seen this girl. The perfect height, if you know what I mean," Cal gestures to his hip area, letting us know just how tall this girl wasn't.
"How many times in my life am I going to meet a cheerleader who is also a yoga instructor on the side? Maybe one more time tops."
I internally remind myself. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter. Ace, Cal, and Cotton are the only people here who truly matter.
Bringing my mind back to the conversation, I realize that Cal is still fantasizing aloud when Cotton stands and says, “As illuminating as this step by step of the Kama Sutra has been, we’re going to be late if we don’t get to class.”
“Right, I’m placing a bookmark right here then and we’ll pick up with position number eight, the Pretzel Dipper, after practice.”
Cotton and I look at each other, conveying a silent ‘this fucking guy.’
The three of us walk out of the media room and out into the hallway, halting and turning, when we hear quick footsteps coming straight for us.
“Humph” comes from the hooded leggy thing as it smacks right into my back before bouncing off me and slamming to the floor. I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman and I have no interest in changing that now, so I turn and glare down at... something...beautiful. Someone...beautiful.
The hood is still up on the grey hoodie and it's much too big, covering the top half of her face, but I can see that graceful neck, the sharp jawline, full lips, and large, straight white teeth. There’s something about this girl on the floor.
Something enticing. Something uniquely her. Bitch or not, I'm intrigued.
I silently will her to remove the hood. Show me your face. Tell me your name.
She’s lying flat on her back and clearly in pain. Quickly rolling to her side she grits out “fucker” as she gets to her knees, stands, and walks away straight into my classroom.
Cal and Cotton burst into laughter the moment she calls me a fucker.
No one talks to me like that. Ever. If I hadn’t been so mesmerized by this woman’s unexplainable appeal and then stunned by her aggressive critique, I would have snatched her up by the back of her shirt and asked her who the fuck she thinks she is.
Turning back to the two assholes who are still laughing, "She's about to regret that.”
I walk into class, and it hasn’t started yet. It’s quiet, and there are a significant number of seats available. There are never many people in here because it’s a small group. Few people can keep up in a real analysis class.
Looking around, searching for her I notice she's at the front of the room. The professor’s desk.
She's speaking with Stalk in a hushed voice, as if it's a private conversation only; he isn’t doing the same.
I can hear every word he speaks to her. He's telling her about his recommendations for her upcoming sophomore year. So...she’s a freshman.
Good to know. How is she even in this class?
Pretty sure the majority of us here are seniors.
The professor is talking to her about an internship that she can apparently start right away.
"Think about it. I feel that it's a really good opportunity and no one is better suited for the position. We’ll talk more about it again later after you've had some time to consider all your options.
" Her part of the conversation is too quiet for me to hear if she's agreeing to any of what he’s proposing to her.
I want to continue watching her. Where does she sit?
I've never noticed her before. Assuming that she must sit in the back, I make my way up the steps to take a seat in the rear of the class even though I never sit there.
My usual seat is at the front, so I can make a quick exit.
I'm typically one of the last people into class but I'm me, so my seat is always empty and waiting.
Heads turn and I feel curious gazes on me as I make my way to the back of the room. Everyone knows me and they know I'm straying from my normal routine. Why people are so damn curious about every fucking thing I do is a mystery to me and one I don’t care enough to think too hard on.
I take my seat as the professor and the profanity spewer end their conversation.
She turns away from him, making her way up the steps toward the back.
Toward where I'm sitting. She doesn’t look up, so I know that she doesn’t know I'm here. In fact, she doesn’t look at a single person in the room as she makes her way to her seat one row in front of me and slightly to my right. Perfect.
Is she purposefully ignoring everyone? Or is she just the queen of all bitches?
I'm the only person seated further in the back than she is, and we are the only people sitting past the seventh row. We’re alone. I can watch her unencumbered by prying eyes. How have I never noticed her before? We’ve likely been in this class together all year, unless she’s a recent transfer.
Wait, I know she isn’t. Ace said she’s been ignoring everyone on the team since practices started in early Summer. So why haven’t I seen her? Does she skip a lot?
She has her head down and she’s meticulously laying out supplies for the lecture. Notebook, pen, water, small dry-erase board, and a black dry-erase marker. What? Why a pen and not a pencil? This math class if the highest level of complexity available here and that’s saying a lot because it’s Eden.
Surely, she finds the occasion to need to erase something from time to time but still, she’s brought a black pen, and something tells me it isn’t a mistake. And what’s with the dry-erase board ? We don’t even use them in this class.
The professor stands and walks to the smart board to begin his lecture.
Stalk is a tall, slim man in his late fifties.
He used to play tennis professionally. He's just one more example of mere greatness not being enough at Eden.
The fact that he's some sort of mathematical Einstein wouldn't have gotten him the job.
He also had to be a once-in-a-lifetime singles champion to really seal the deal.
“I have an exciting opportunity for four students today. This is something that I started doing in my fourth year of teaching and so long as we can all be grown-ups in here, and no one whines about the outcome, I will continue to do it to my last year.“
I know what he's talking about before he even finishes explaining.
Carter, the team captain when I was a freshman at Eden, told me about it.
Each term, Professor Stalk puts an extremely complex problem on the board and starts the clock.
The first four students to correctly solve the equation will be exempt from the mid-term, and then he does the same thing later in the year for the final exam.
I will be one of the four each time. It isn’t even a question. I would be one of the four, even without the heads up from Carter. The creator didn’t waste time on empathy or generosity of spirit when he was making me, but he made sure I had plenty of cunning and intelligence.
Stalk finishes his explanation, and people are squirming in their seats with excitement all over the room. Everyone is hoping they’ll be one of the four.
He begins writing the problem on the board and I write it on my paper as he goes.
I can't help but notice that SHE isn’t writing anything down.
She isn’t even going to try to earn an exemption spot.
It’s not what I expected from her but I'm not altogether surprised, either. The problem is difficult. The most difficult one I’ve ever seen.
The air hums with excitement and desperation. No doubt, more than one of these people fear failing that exam if they can't manage an exemption.
Hmmm, this is going to take a minute. The equation is now complete on my paper and I'm working on the different parts of the solution. What's that?
There's movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s her. She's writing on the dry-erase board. What is she writing?
She continues writing and then holds up the board so that what she has written is facing the front of the room.
Then, she clears her throat so quietly that I'm surprised when it grabs anyone’s attention.
Stalk looks directly at her like he has been waiting for her to address him.
He looks at the board she's holding up and nods once.
She puts the board down before slinking back into her seat.
The professor nods his head toward the exit, and she shakes hers almost imperceptibly, pulling her hood further down over her face.
Is he dismissing her? What was on the board?
The four people with the correct answer get to leave for the day, so it couldn’t have been that.
Not only is she still seated, but there’s no way that she solved this problem so quickly.
There’s also nothing on her notebook paper, so she hasn't worked out the equation. Why is he dismissing her then? Why do I care? I don’t.
I get back to the equation and several minutes later, I'm the first to solve the problem. I take it to his desk, and he confirms that I'm correct. “Well done young man. You may leave for the day, and you are exempt from the midterm."
As I reach the exit, I hear him call out to the remaining students, “there are two more exemptions up for grabs.”
What? Two? That means I was the second. Someone beat me to the correct answer. Her. It was her. Why didn’t she leave? Why does she leave me with so many questions? I can’t have that. I like answers and I'm going to find hers .
....................
Unwavering in my desire to find out more about this girl, I wait on the stairs to see where she goes, and she doesn’t just stay to the end of class.
She is the very last person to leave the room, which again leaves me wondering.
Did she stay to finish her conversation with Stalk?
Why would she? I heard him say to take time and think about it and I didn’t get the feeling that he meant just think about it for the next hour, so why did she wait so long to leave?
Where is she going now? What is her name?
Who is she really? The voice in my head is becoming increasingly more agitated.
The more I think about her, the more questions I have and I'm not a patient man. I need answers now.
Hanging back and following her at a safe distance, I notice that she isn't in a hurry this time. She walks slowly with her head down at a steady pace as she avoids the gazes of everyone around her. This is definitely intentional. She doesn’t want to be noticed but it's too late for that now. She’s caught my interest, and she won’t like what comes with my attention.