Page 156 of Learning Curve

“Sorry about that, Scottie,” Elizabeth announces as she walks back into her office and sits down behind her desk. It’s crazy how all those months ago—when everything had happened with my mom—I was purposely ignoring this woman. But over the past two weeks, I’ve been in contact with her so much that we’re on a first-name basis.

“No problem,” I say.

“So, we’re happy with the schedule changes?”

“Happy?” I question on a laugh. “More like ecstatic. Thank you so much, Elizabeth. I know it wasn’t easy, getting all of this switched last minute.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Scottie. I’m glad to do it.” She smiles. “So…do you think you’ll want to get a PhD in Clinical Psychology?”

“A PhD?” I furrow my brow. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Of course it is.” Elizabeth chuckles. “They don’t call you a doctor for nothing. But I’ve seen your grades, Scottie. I also see your passion. This is the kind of career you were made to do. So, don’t write it off, okay?”

“How about I’ll start with my bachelor’s and go from there?” I toss back, and Elizabeth grins.

“And how about I’ll be here for you every step of the way?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Oh, by the way,” she adds. “I had an interesting meeting with Connie over at the Disability Services Office. She wants me to assist her in creating a survey for all students to fill out every year so that the university can be aware of any disabilities and provide them with resources that will help accommodate them. And I heard that you are the driving force behind this incredible change… Is that true?”

I can’t hide my smile. “It’s true.”

After some serious research on ADA accommodations on college campuses, one of the things I found out was that most universities—including Dickson—have students self-identify their disabilities. Every university appears to have a different process of self-identifying, but the commonality of them all was that it ends up putting students in a situation where they have to strongly advocate for themselves rather than having the university trying to advocate for them.

Insert me looking out for them instead.

And it appears that Dickson is taking my suggestions to heart. At a pretty rapid pace, to my utter surprise.

“I swear, Scottie, you can take on the world.” Elizabeth smiles at me from across her desk, and the only thing that comes to mind is… Hell yeah, I can.

My phone vibrates in my jean-shorts pocket, and I cringe a little when I meet her eyes, but she just waves a hand at me. “By all means, check your messages. I don’t mind.”

I glance down at the screen and see a text that makes me smile all over again.

Finn: Are you coming home soon, birthday girl?

“Well, with the look on your face, I’d say, it’s a good text,” Elizabeth comments, and I laugh.

“It’s my boyfriend.”

“Let me guess, he wants you to get this boring meeting over with so you can celebrate your birthday?”

I snort. “Pretty much.”

“You got big plans for your birthday, Scottie?”

“Just spending time with my boyfriend.”

Honestly, it feels weird to call Finn my boyfriend. With how far we’ve come, that word feels weak. It feels like it doesn’t come close to encompassing what he is to me.

“Well, I’m not going to keep you here any longer. You need to go enjoy your birthday instead of sitting here talking to me about career paths.”

Funnily enough, I love talking about my career path. It feels like my destiny. It feels like everything I’ve been through has been for a reason. Like, this is how my life is supposed to be.

Would I love to get out of this chair and walk again? Of course.

But am I going to spend the rest of my life feeling sorry for myself? Hell no.

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