Page 70 of Race to Me

I nod slowly, not knowing what to say. When he walks to the next table, Foster leans over to me and whispers, “I told him he died.” He laughs.

I let out a massive breath of relief. “Wait, so you presented by yourself?” I smile, looking at the paper. “And you got an A?”

“Yeah. Don’t make a big deal of it.” Foster bumps into me playfully.

“Thank you.”

∞∞∞

Class ends, and we head to the hallway. I turn right, but Foster’s hand tugs me left.

“Come on,” he says.

“Where are we going?”

Foster looks over at me, grinning with deep dimples. “You don’t look happy, so we’re going to change your major.”

Twenty-seven

The warm wind envelops me when we step outside, nearly thawing out my frozen mind as Foster guides us towards the administration office.

It seems like things are happening in slow motion, and my chest feels as if it’s going to shatter from the weight of it all.

We stop walking, and Foster touches my face. “Hey, beautiful,” He grins.

“Hey,” I reply in a short breath.

A gentle breeze flows between us. “I know you’re probably freaking out right now, but I want you to know it’s okay.”

“I just ... I have no idea what I want to do.” I admit.

“I know, babe. You’ve never been allowed the right to decide your life for yourself, but trust me, don’t waste your college tuition. What classes do you want to drop?”

“I’m not sure. Anything to do with accounting, I guess, but I really like Mrs. Parks.” I groan, knowing it’s the class I’m doing best in and that I’ve grown fond of her. I wish I had someone to ask for advice. My mind travels to Mrs. Rita. I need to go visit her soon. I know she quit the day I left, and I hope she’s doing okay financially.

“Sky?”

“Huh?”

Foster gives me a comforting hug before pulling back and saying, “You don’t have to change your major if you don’t want to. I guess I just wanted you to know you had the choice.”

I look at the students buzzing on the green, at Foster, and finally at my reflection in the windows of the administration office. With a deep breath and a foggy sense of clarity, I decide my own future.

“Fuck Accounting,” I snicker, opening the door and bursting inside. I’m embarrassed to find no one on the other side of the desk when I bravely stomp to it.

Foster laughs before pulling me in to ruffle my hair. He cups his hands around his lips and shouts, “Hey! My girl needs some assistance.” My cheeks flush a deep pink.

A stocky old man walks out, the last of his stringy hair holding desperately to his shiny head. “How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for an academic advisor.” I say in a quiet voice. I’m not sure why I’m talking in such a low tone. Maybe out of fear that I’m doing something wrong. From the feeling of my stomach erupting with a million nervous butterflies, I can tell that’s exactly what it is.

He smiles a little, standing up straighter. “That’s me.”

“Great! I need to change my major.”

“Certainly. Come to my office.” He gestures out down the hallway and we follow. The man turns to me and extends his hand. “I’m Danny Duncan.” he states, and his glasses slide ever so slightly down his nose.

“I’m Skyler Johnson.” I reply, returning his handshake.

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