Page 44 of Forbidden Lessons

“Yeah, uh, I…” I mumble, because apparently I’ve lost the ability to speak in full sentences.

“Good. It almost makes up for the fact that you haven’t submitted your art assignment yet.”

Then he opens my car door and holds out an arm like he has every right to invade my fucking privacy, but he’ll be a gentleman about it. Which somehow activates my Disney princess mind-control setting, because I just grab my shit and get out. Like this is just a normal day in the life of a college kid, when he’s walking me to the executioner’s block.

“I, uh, sorry, my phone…”

He shuts my car door and then looks at, then at me, obviously waiting. “Aren’t you going to lock your car?”

“Ha!” I panic at how weird I sound. “Like there’s anything to steal in there. Your shoes cost more than the car and everything in it.”

I spin away from him, feeling my face turn crimson.

Age: 19

Act: girl calls herself out like a loser

Intent: who the fuck knows

Impact: utter mortification

Interpretation: Haven can’t handle her shit in front of hot professor and only has herself to blame

CRUELLAME

He says nothing, because not everyone at this school is a sadist. I try to fan myself without him noticing. We walk toward AHC, his heavier footfalls bracketing mine as I take two steps for each of his. I blame my flip-flops. One of them is on its last flop, and I keep having to wiggle my toes around to keep it on my foot.

“You do have one, don’t you?”

For a second, I think he’s asking if I have another shoe. “Oh, phone? Yeah? Of course.” I pull it out of my tote as evidence. “I, uh, lost my charger. Only got a new one today.” The lie comes easily, because I’m just dipping into past experience.

I hate phones.

Things were better before they were around. Now I have all this extra responsibility. Like remembering to charge it, trying not to drop it face first on the curb, keeping food off it when I eat and try to read a text message at the same time.

And the cheap ones are so shitty. I assume.

“Then I expect your submission to reach me before the end of the day.”

Crunch-crunchety-crunchety-crunch.

A trio of students walking much faster than us zoom past, one of them glancing back to get a look at Rooke. When he makes eye contact, she bites her lip and quickly looks away, giggling.

She must be at least a year older than me. Makes me feel so much better, knowing a sophomore can’t keep it together any better than I can.

“Are you going to tell me why you skipped class yesterday?”

I keep looking straight ahead, lest I blush again. “Sorry. And…I know you’re sick of hearing my apologies.” I swipe my hand out. “I’m not confessing, and not expecting forgiveness.”

“Then how does this play out, Miss Lee?”

We ascend the steps into AHC, and my eyes automatically lock onto Nora as she peeks over the counter to see who’s coming inside. She smiles at me, and even gives a little wriggle of her fingertips, but that smile freezes when she sees Professor Rooke.

Then she ducks her head down like she doesn’t want to make eye contact.

Wow. That wasn’t weird at all.

“I’m not sure. I know I’m on my last strike, and…” Fuck, what am I supposed to say?

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