Page 75 of Stranded

“Breanna,” Professor Meyer says. “Shane.” She walks past their work benches and slams an equally thick folder on each.

I can’t bring myself to feel bad.

I’d bet my bottom dollar they wanted me to quit school so they could just straight-up rip off my ideas, without even covering their tracks.

Unlike them, I love what I do—and I actuallydowhat I say I’m doing.

Thank god they burned that bridge with me, and set me free.

“You don’t think I’d recognise the same art style in all your portfolios?” Professor Meyer tells the three of them. “Or the source of all your best ideas?”

Then she walks toward me.

I gulp hard, glancing at the thin folder pressed between two fingers. She slides it across the workstation, taps it with one bright red nail, and waits.

I didn’t help them on purpose, I swear. I bite back my defense, waiting for her to say something.

“Open it.”

I do, and then I blink.

It’s… a job description? No, it’s a work experience offer, with a blank signature line for me to sign. And right at the top, in neat bolded text, is the answer I’m looking for.

XX Gracieux.

I gasp. “No.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was expecting,” she tells me, and she’s actually smiling.

“I mean—yes! God, yes!” My classmates cover their chuckles with coughs. “Thank you, Professor. I just—I—thank you.”

Professor nods slightly. “You deserve it, Ronan.”

Then she turns to stare at the others. “Those three groups of models—thank you for your time. You can all go home. Breanna, Shane, Derek—be in my office in twenty minutes.”

Derek’s voice croaks. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “Of course. To discuss, uh… the options for our future here?”

The guy’s got brass balls. I stare at him in disbelief, and my classmates cover their snorts and grumbles.

Professor Meyer actually laughs. “No. The cops wanted somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed. Now, go.”

Oh my god. Alph reported them! With all the chaos, there wasn’t a minute to even think about it today. But he took care of it for me.

He took care of me.

As our disgraced fellow students leave, Professor Meyer twitches a finger at a stage hand waiting by the curtain. “Let the families in now. Thank you.”

Friends and families stream in as she starts walking around the room, laying a folder on each workstation. She stops to talk to each of us about it, and I can’t help noticing that everyone actually looks happy about their placement.

I still can’t believe that I got the most coveted job of all.

“Ronan!” Alph gasps, rushing up to me. My parents and brothers are following, but they’re slowed down by staring wide-eyed at all the chaos backstage. “Did you get it?”

“I got it!” I fling my arms around his shoulders, and he picks me up and spins me around as he whoops.

I laugh, squirming in protest.

“If I can interrupt you,” Professor Meyer says drily, and Alph clears his throat.

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