Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
That. Is. It.
9B
LIAM
Okay, a few more weeks of talking to her on the phone at night won’t hurt…
10
GENEVIEVE
Early November
Mr. Donovan
I refuse to believe you’ve never seen ‘The Iron Giant.’
I can say the same about you, seeing as though you’re still taking credit for that quote. *eye roll emoji*
Mr. Donovan
You should watch it. It’s a very good film.
Isigh and put my phone away. Despite talking to him on the phone every night and sharing an extra cup of tea after every mentor session, he never suggests we do something together outside the classroom.
He keeps his boundaries front and center, never letting me get too close.
I’ve accepted it, though.
He’s the only friend I’ve ever had.
Shaking away the slight disappointment, I focus on today’s cleaning session with my personal group of “helping fairies.”
The secretary’s niece and her friends are following me around with rags because they’re convinced I’m the real-life version of Cinderella.
I add a final coat of shine to the glass and move my bucket to the balcony.
“Miss Edwards?” Principal Peterson’s voice makes me turn around.
“Sir?”
“Set down that rag for a second and follow me, please.”
I oblige, and he leads me into his office.
“Have a seat.” His voice is as terse as it was on the day he sentenced me.
He stares at me, not saying a word.
Swallowing, I wrack my brain for what this could be about.
“There have been some recent developments,” he says, finally. “At our latest staff meeting, quite a few of our professors raved about your continued work ethic and determination to stay weeks ahead on all your assignments, despite the time that you’ve had to use for your punishment.”
And all the time I’ve spent on the phone with Mr. Donovan…
“In light of that, I’ve decided that you can attend the upcoming Boston College Tour,” he says. “If you continue to do your cleaning work and there are no other issues before the December break, I will rescind four demerits and consider returning a few more privileges.”
“Thank you, sir.” I stand up to leave. “I appreciate this.”
“Not so fast.” He picks up a stack of mail. “I wanted to personally deliver these.”
The shields on the edges tell me all I need to know: Dartmouth, Yale, Harvard, and Brown.
“Thank you so much! Can I take off and open these in private?”
“Of course.” He smiles. “Congratulations in advance.”
Tucking the packets into my bag, I run across campus and lock myself in my room. I take out my acceptance scrapbook, a glittering purple folder I’ve worked on since I was in seventh grade.
Accepted. Accepted. Accepted.
I save the dream of Harvard for last, but my heart sinks at the sight of the phrase, “We regret to inform you…”
It sinks even deeper when I see the dreaded “w” word.
I’ve been waitlisted?
My tears soak the page, and I don’t bother reading the rest of it.
11
LIAM
One Week Later
Has Genevieve died without anyone mentioning it?
I refresh my screen for the umpteenth time, but it still doesn’t show a response from her. She’s not answering my calls, and I’m honestly starved for some decent conversation.
“Um, hello, Mr. Donovan? Can you hear me?”
I snap out of my thoughts and try to be present in the classroom. “Yes?”
“I was saying that we need to rethink celebrating the works of someone like William Faulkner,” Courtney Braun says. “He was a raging drunk, and we should support the authors who weren’t.”
“You have to learn how to separate the art from the artist.”
“Not if I don’t want to.” She crosses her arms. “I refuse to read any more of his work, so I would appreciate it if you offer me an alternative.”
“Speaking of ‘alternative,’” Elizabeth Smith chimes in, “I would like to read some books where the men actually know how to write the spicy moments. It’s quite telling that they have no idea what they’re talking about.”
“I’m not assigning any alternative books.”
“Then we’re not reading.” Courtney hands me a list. “Here is an approved list of authors.”
“Okay.” I don’t bother glancing at it. “Class dismissed.”
As they leave, I send Genevieve a message.
Me
I’m holding office hours today. Stop by and talk to me about why you’re missing my class this week.
I sit in my office for two hours past my appointment time, but she never shows.
I can’t think of anything I’ve said or done to deserve to be ignored, and I’ve gotten used to talking on the phone to her at night.
Maybe she’s in Boston again. Maybe she’s pushing her luck.
When I get back to my place, I pull up all three of the college writing groups she’s mentioned. There’s an event at Clam Bar tonight, but she promised she wouldn’t attend it.
I call the manager.
“Clam Bar, this is Carl speaking.”
“Carl, this is Liam Donovan. I’m a professor at Exeter.”
“Oh, hey dude!” he says. “I’ve got the camera set up to point at the stage right like you asked, and one of the servers already got the books signed. They’ll be here waiting whenever you come to town.”