Page 71 of Race to Me

We walk into his office, and I take a seat beside Foster. Mr. Duncan heads around and sits at his desk. “So, Ms. Johnson,” He begins typing on his computer. “You’re wanting to change your major from Accounting to …” He peers his eyes in my direction.

“Um. So, the thing is, I actually don’t know what I want to do.”

He gives me a dumbfounded expression before fixing his glasses. “So, you’re wanting to switch your major from Accounting to undecided? Nothing?” A slight shake of his head makes me rethink. “Looking at your credits, especially from your previous school, you’re heavily into your degree. I highly advise against—”

Foster raises his hand with a polite grin. “With all due respect, she’s got a shit ton of base credits from her prior school and once she figures it out, she’ll be ahead of most no matter what she chooses.”

“It’s your decision.” Mr. Duncan looks at me warily. I mean, to be fair, thisisa super weird thing to do. Besides, he doesn’t understand my reasons for changing. I nod, and he continues, “You want to just keep all your classes for this semester but take off the major?”

“Yes, well, no ... I’d like to drop Accounting, actually. My second period.”

“Alright. What would you like to replace it with?”

“Something artsy?” I reply, hoping he’ll choose something for me. Right now, I just want easy. I have a lot of things to focus on right now, and a class that doesn’t require me getting a one hundred as my final grade would be a huge weight off my shoulders.

“Oh, you’re an artist?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I shake my head, trying not to sound like an idiot. “No. Honestly, I just want something calming and creative ... Artsy, you know?”

He laughs outright. “Artsy, okay.” Mr. Duncan scrolls through an expansive list, and I can’t help but chuckle at the awkward silence in the room, especially when Foster picks up a cat-shaped paperweight from the desk and pretends it’s alive by patting its head.

Mr. Duncan gives him a look before turning his attention to me.

“Art Theory and Practice?” he suggests.

With a shrug, I give him my answer. Next semester, when I’ve figured out what I want to do with my life, I’ll return to this seat right here and I won’t need to shrug.

He exits and returns with my new schedule freshly printed on a crisp piece of paper. “Anything else I can do for you, Ms. Johnson?”

“That’s all—”

Foster cuts me off, “Take her off the cheer team.” My stomach twist in knots at his words. He looks to my stunned face and adds, “Please.” But that’s not why my jaw is open.

A small gasp escapes my parted lips. I lean into him, whispering, “Can I do that?”

He does the same, not whispering. “You can do absolutely whatever the fuck you want, Freckles.”

I can tell we’re eating at Mr. Duncan’s nerves when he sighs. “That’s something your coach will need to do. I assume you have practice today. Talk to them.”

“Will do,” I stand up, and I can’t contain the smile on my face.

“These new changes will take effect Friday, so you’ll need to resume your current classes as usual.”

∞∞∞

I show up towards the end of Accounting, but luckily everyone is working on their laptops. When the bell rings, I walk over to Mrs. Park’s desk. “I just wanted to let you know that Friday will be my last day.”

“Oh!” She sounds surprised but continues to thumb through her paperwork. “What school are you transferring to?”

“I’m not transferring, just dropping this class.” I cringe. That came out harsher than I intended it, but Mrs. Parks sends me a smile when she sees my scrunched face.

She leans in close, a small frown taking over her face as students begin to shuffle out. “I saw the notification this morning of you not being on my roll after Friday and assumed you were leaving the school. I’m sad; you’re the only student who pays attention in here. Everyone else is on YouTube all day. You get good grades. Are you struggling in any way? I can help, if that’s the case.”

“It was never what I wanted,” I respond, surprised by my honesty.

“That’s a shame, but I understand. You get one college experience, so don’t waste it on a career you don’t want.” Mrs. Parks smiles.

Foster slinks his head around the doorway, hurrying me along to lunch. “I’ll see you later Mrs. Parks.” I say quickly.

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