Chapter 28
twenty-eight
I hurry toward the science building, feet pounding against the pavement. Grades from our last exam are posted outside the professor’s office, and I don’t want to waste a second not knowing mine.
Normally, Ellis and I would race over and hold hands as we peeked. I would read hers first, then she’d read mine. But now?
I’m alone.
Not even asshole Rowan is here to make me feel the throb of competition.
So I slow my steps at the barrenness of the situation. With a hard swallow, I scan the sheet in front of me, finger trailing down the numbers until I reach mine.
And my heart skips a beat.
What is that-that…grade that starts with a 7?
I failed?
There’s no way I failed. I nailed the answers. I know I did.
A few other students push past me to check their scores, but I’m frozen. Unable to think. Blinking again, I check the number a third time. A fourth.
It makes no sense. My answers were perfect… I thought they were.
“Shannon?” I snag the coat of the girl wandering up to the score sheet. She always seems to do well in class.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember what you wrote? I want to make sure I answered the same.”
This starts a lively discussion with the students around me, all of us comparing answers. And yep. I think I got it all correct.
The more my answers match theirs, the hotter my chest burns. There must have been a mistake.
My glasses nearly slip off my face as I knock on Professor Klive’s door.
“Enter.”
The older man with a shocking plume of white hair is bent over an overloaded desk, shuffling through papers while pulling on his white lab coat.
“Miss Turner. Come in,” he says with a cursory glance my way.
I shut the door and wander toward the seats in front of his desk. Typically, he’s been very chill. Laid back. Whenever we have questions, he answers them fully and kindly. But he’s avoiding my eyes as he continues bustling about his office.
“I wanted to discuss my grade on the exam.”
“Hmm? Yes, tragedy has struck, I suppose. You can attempt to make up for the poor grade with the next one.”
“But I answered the same as the other students who got As and Bs…”
He shrugs, then plops down in front of his laptop and pulls something up. I stand there, anger and hope tearing at each other inside my chest.
“Sorry. The grade is correct.”
“But I—”
Finally, he meets my gaze, hair falling over his eyes, as he interrupts. “If you want to take it up with someone, take it up with Dean Dutta.” His voice is laced with ice.
I cross my arms and jut out my chin. “I will.”
I’ve never skipped a class before, and my biology lab is coming up in thirty minutes. But this is much more important.
Indignation in every step, I storm toward the admin building to find Dean Dutta’s office.
“And who may I say is requesting a meeting?” His assistant, holding a tissue up to his reddened nose, asks outside the door. He sniffs impatiently. Then releases three sneezes in a row.
“Scout Turner. He knows me.”
His bloodshot eyes glance down at the desk, searching an invisible calendar. “I’m sorry, Miss Turner. The dean requires a few weeks’ notice for a meeting. You’ll have to fill out a request form, but I’m not sure if— Hey!”
I march straight past him and into Ayan’s father’s office. He’s talking to his computer screen, as if on a meeting.
“I’ll have to call you back,” he says, shutting down the call. “Scout. What is this—”
“My chemistry professor gave me a failing grade on my last exam. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Haughtily, he snorts, grabs his coat, and slips it on. Ignoring me, he strolls toward his door. “I have meetings to get to.”
I step in his way to block the path out. “So you do know what this is about.”
His brown eyes lower to my face, a deadpan look overtaking his expression. “Maybe you should study more and not waste time on extracurricular activities.”
He skirts around me and leaves. My jaw hangs open as I watch him go.
This is worse than I thought it would be.
I’ve been marked.
Ayan is trying to ruin my life. First, breaking into my place to leave a lollipop. Now? Forcing the professors to fail me.
He’s petty, and this is expected. But I’m about to expose the entire game.
Wandering south, I tug my coat up higher as I aim toward Aeternum Residences. With a shaky finger, I contact the person I want to talk to most at this moment.
“Mom?”
“Hey! What’s up? I’m in the middle of clinic. Something wrong?”
I never call during the day, knowing she’s busy. “I failed my chemistry exam, but…I don’t think I actually did.” Angry tears fill my eyes. But I don’t let them fall. Not over these assholes. Everything spills out on a rambling breath. I choke when I reach the part about Dean Dutta.
Mom’s silent for a long moment. Fiercely, she finally replies, “I’m telling Elle. We’ll involve the press. It’s all…some sick hoop they’re trying to force us to jump through. And I’m not doing it.”
I feel better knowing she’ll handle it. Especially when she finishes with, “I’m calling your father.”
Worn out, I decide to skip the rest of the day and make it to our apartment.
Yesterday, I was upset with Apollo for being so unfocused and unhelpful.
It’s like he values football over everything else.
Today? It seems silly. He made me breakfast. And volunteered to hold my flashcards during the Stallions game.
I stormed out anyway to get my studying done. And he left me alone.
I want to tell him what happened because I am so very alone out here. My entire life has changed in just two weeks.
When I enter the front door, he’s pacing a trail in the living room while talking on his phone. It seems as if he’s making voice notes, crafting an email to the Deltas about Feral Friday coming up in a few weeks. Fortunately, I don’t have to participate since it’s just for juniors.
He immediately stops talking when he spots me coming in. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and guilt softens his dark eyes. With a sheepish grin, he shoves his phone and hands in his pockets.
“Hey…” he says carefully.
I sigh and nod. “Hi.”
Strolling closer, he lets his fingers trail over my arm, and the feeling is warm. Comforting.
“I think I fucked up yesterday and should have helped you more. But I… Um… I tried.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s fine. You wanted to watch the Stallions and—”
“No, your test is important. So next weekend, I’ll make time to help you. Without distractions.” His hand wanders down to grab mine, and I smile.
“Thanks.”
“So I will try, but I—”
I don’t let him finish, wanting to get everything off my chest. “I failed. And it wasn’t even my fault.”
That’s when the sobs rip from my throat. I never fail. And I rarely cry. I tried so fucking hard. Studied my ass off. Only to let my ex and his father win?
Apollo pulls me into his thick chest, his taut arms wrapping around me until I feel safe. He rests his chin against my head. “I’m sorry. What happened? This feels like I caused it.”
Soaking his T-shirt, I explain what I just went through.
He stands stoic, unmoving, as I rage on about Ayan Dutta and his father having it out for me. Probably plotting this since the night Apollo kissed me.
I pull back when he hasn’t said anything for a minute. His large thumbs stroke over my heated cheeks.
“So you think Dean Dutta has it out for you because of Ayan? To…go so far as to fail your exam, even if it could be easily proven to be untrue?”
I take a step back. “Are you saying I’m being ridiculous?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you think I’m being paranoid.”
A long silence stretches until he reaches for me.
“I didn’t say that either.”
“But you didn’t deny it. You’re acting as if you’re not on my side.”
“I am, but I…”
“But what?”
“I know you lost your best friend. And now you’re going through this.”
My body trembles with ire at the word. “I didn’t lose her. She was slaughtered.”
“Th-that’s horrible. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And it’s probably adding to the stress of everything. And then the lollipops.” With a sorrow-filled expression, he glances toward the kitchen. “Have you been taking the vitamins?”
My eyes bug out, and my stomach drops.
“I’m talking about my grades, about my dead best friend, and you’re talking vitamins. What’s that about?”
“The president was worried about you. That you hadn’t been wearing your wellness bracelet and not taking your vitamins. They said if you didn’t, we may need to worry about things like, well…paranoia.”
I stop listening. Instead, I grab my bag and fling the front door open.
“Scout! Wait!”
I thought he was safe. I thought my husband would protect me.
Instead, a horrid realization hits me.
I’m married to the enemy.