Page 16 of Courting Clemson

“No, you’re right. This definitely isn’t funny. But like I said, I’m sure there’s a way to fix it. There’s always a way, right?”

How she managed to stay positive even facing such shitty circumstances I’d never understand. It was definitely her superpower.

“I emailed them when grades were posted but haven’t heard back. I’m guessing it’s because it’s the weekend, but I’ve checked my email a hundred times today hoping something would be there.”

“Oh, shit,” she muttered. “Grades have already been posted? Clemson,” she sighed, and it was like a gut punch. “Why on earth did you wait so long? Can grades be changed after they’ve posted them? Won’t that raise suspicion?”

“No one sees them but the student. It’s not like it’s a public website. You have to log in through your student ID and shit.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that makes more sense. Did you really not know you were doing so poorly in these classes? Or did you bomb the crap out of the finals?”

“Honestly, I never paid attention throughout the semester. And I know that’s on me. Trust me. Lesson learned. My coaches are livid, and I don’t blame them. They said they have no pull with the professors, but I call bullshit. You know all those football players skip most of their classes and are fine because of the team they’re on.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the way you want to do things, is it?”

“If it means saving my ass? At this point, I don’t care how it happens. If I could hack into the school’s system and change my grades, I’d do it.”

“I wouldn’t go around saying that to too many people, sister.”

“Of course not. But I’m desperate here.”

“I hear you. Let me think on this and circle back. If I can’t come up with anything, I’m sure Elijah can. He’s amazing at solving problems.” Her entire demeanor shifted when she mentioned her husband.

“I don’t know. Maybe you should keep this one to yourself. Maybe the fewer people who know, the better the chance of keeping it from Mom and Dad. You know?”

“Don’t worry about that. He barely ever sees them. Most of the time, if Mom spends time with the baby, I have to take her to Brentwood. They always complain about the traffic out here if I invite them over. You’d swear they were in their nineties instead of their late fifties.”

“Thank you, Hannah. Just talking about it with someone helps. No one else knows except one of my roommates, and she was no help at all. I mean, I love the girl, don’t get me wrong, but she’s no more resourceful than I am.”

“Honey, one way or another, it will all work out. What’s the worst that could happen? You lose your scholarship and have to pay like everyone else, right?” My sister suggested that as though starting life with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt was just another trip to the grocery store.

“I’m not convinced Mom and Dad would take out any more loans. I think after the twins’ college years, they’re pretty much over it. That’s the story of my entire life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Forget I said that.”

“No, seriously. That sounded like there’s a lot to unpack there. You know you can’t pull any wool over these eyes,” she teased.

“Just like I’m sure you have resentments, or issues or whatever, from being the oldest?” I said like a question for her to confirm my suspicions were right. “Being the baby of the family isn’t all sunshine and unicorns either. Mom and Dad were so worn out by the time I came around, it felt like I didn’t have anyone in my corner at times. They were basically over it. You know?”

Not sure how we got here, but this conversation was probably long overdue.

“I get that, and I’m sorry you were ever made to feel that way. And you’re right. I had some things that I had to learn how to let go of from childhood. Even outside the abduction stuff. But the best thing you can do for yourself, Clemmie,” she advised like a good big sister, “is let it go, or it will just fester inside you.”

“You sound like a therapist now,” I teased, ready to lighten the mood.

“Well, God knows I’ve spent enough time and money on my treatment. At least I picked up some fancy lingo to throw around at other people.” She laughed.

“All right, I’m going to let you go. Thank you for listening. You’re the best banana in the bunch.” It was a silly thing we always said growing up since one of Hannah’s many nicknames was Hannah Banana.

“I love you, Clemson. Try not to stress out too much. It’ll all work out,” she assured me as we hung up.

So was anything solved? No. But just saying all that negative stuff out loud really did make me feel lighter. I wasn’t normally a bitter person, so when I started going down that path, I usually knew I had to call in reinforcements.

Thank God for my sisters.

Chapter Five

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