Page 74 of Stranded

Professor Meyer is talking about me and the collection. And thank god, because I couldn’t think of anything smart to say right now. All her words sound much better.

Groundbreaking, raw talent to keep an eye on.

That’s the only phrase that sticks in my brain, and I replay it over and over. I catch Alph’s eye as he sits down again, and he just winks at me.

There’s another round of applause, and I bow again, and then Professor Meyer calls out the rest of my classmates, and all of the models.

After the bows, one of us—definitely me—loses their cool first, and the rest follow. We’re jumping and whooping and hollering as we hug each other, celebrating the fact that we survived.

Well, almost all of us. Obviously, there are three people sullenly huddled at the back of the group, but not even they can drag down our mood.

We did it!

And I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch… but I thinkIdid it.

There’s just one thing left to do.

With a few final hugs, we separate ourselves to wait by our workstations, each of us surrounded by our own cluster of models. Our friends and family aren’t here yet.

Professor Meyer is talking with the representatives. Any minute now, we’re going to find out how we did—and what we’ll be doing next semester. The anticipation is killing me.

When she appears, I clap a hand over my mouth. It’s all I can do not to jump out of my skin as she strides toward us all, bright red heels clicking against the floors.

She’s carrying a stack of folders in her arms, making a beeline this way. Heading for…

Please be me, please be me!

“Derek.”

What?My mouth falls open.

At least I’m not the only one. The rest of my classmates gasp, trading glances with each other and looking at me.

Even Derek stares at Professor Meyer for a moment, open-mouthed, as she slaps a thick folder against his chest. Then he starts to smirk again, shooting a triumphant look at me.

I feel sick.

“Open it.”

He puts it down and flips it open, crossing one ankle casually over the other like he’s the king of the castle… and then he freezes.

So do I. Even if it’s upside-down and grainy, like a photocopy of a photocopy… I recognize that drawing.

It’s mine.

Professor Meyer flips the pages in front of his eyes, showing him everything inside. I recognize a lot of it. My sketches from last year, brainstorming lists that I thought were long gone, you name it.

Then, abruptly, crude drawings—side-by-side with the very same ones I’ve seen him show us in class, like bad copies. Or bad originals.

Derek is white as a ghost. “What…” he trails off, and then he whips his head around to hiss at me. “You? You little?—”

Professor Meyer clears her throat, and the words die on his lips.

“You didn’t think I’d know everyone in the province who has the skill—the creative vision—needed to create a collection like this?” She slams the folder closed again. “That nobody would talk to me before applying for a job at a new brand? When the studio is in my own city? Right under my nose?”

Derek just stutters wordlessly.

I glance over at Breanna and Shane, and then I grin. Their models are preventing them from sneaking away by linking arms, forming human walls.

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