Page 40 of Forging Legacy

“I … don’t want special treatment. I broke the rules.”

“Did you, though?” Professor Yoon gives their chin another scratch. “The handbook specifies rules for interpersonal relationships between graduate students and undergraduate students, but you are both undergraduates. And like I said, he has left the university. Nobody has filed a complaint. Nobody has reported misconduct.”

We are both silent for a few beats. Or maybe a few hours. It all feels agonizingly slow as I sweat in the plastic chair, curling and uncurling my toes inside my shoes while I wait to see what’s going to happen with my assistantship. I finally dare to ask, “So, what happens now?”

Professor Yoon takes a deep breath through their nose and holds up their hands again. “Now, you continue your excellent work leading up to the final exam. You seemed to enjoy preparing the students for mid- terms. Would you be interested in leading another large study session the week before finals?”

I blink. “I meant what happens with …” I gesture my hand in a circle.

Professor Yoon glances at their computer again. “Ms. Montgomery, do you think you can figure out how to update the class roster inside the university grading portal? If yes, I would say, please do so and carry on. I’d be most appreciative if you could leave me alone with my prediction model for the rest of the week.”

As if that settled the matter, they walk back around to their side of the desk, sitting down with a creak of the chair springs and leaning forward to gawk at the monitors once more. Stunned, and confused, I leave their office and sink into a seat in one of the cubicles. There are no graduate students around. No undergrads looking for test grades. Just me and my tattered laptop I pull from my bag. I wait for it to groan into life and log into the grading software. My screen shows a flashing alert that one of my students has had a status change. In a few clicks, I update Wyatt’s name in the system and remove him from my grade roster.

It really happened, then. He’s leaving school and moving to Mexico. And I’m carrying on like none of it ever happened.

Except it did happen. I was with him, and it changed me, opening me up to an adoration I never expected and care and comfort I never imagined. And it’s all gone again, a reminder that I can either have turmoil and affection or hard work and professional success.

With a sigh, I shut down my computer and make my way to the library. There is still work I can do to prepare for my studies at Imperial College.

Chapter31

Wyatt

All I do is playsoccer and use the translate app on my phone. I’ve been down here for three weeks and already got kicked out of my Spanish class because I kept getting lost and showing up late. I get that I can’t be disrupting the other students. I’ve only got myself to blame.

There’s one or two guys on the team who speak enough English to give me shit on the field and joke around a bit, but I miss my cousins. I miss Pittsburgh and being near water. This is the farthest I’ve ever been from a river for any real length of time. I had no idea how much it impacted my sense of place.

But the soccer is good. Really fucking good. And nothing compares to that feeling of hearing the announcer say my name—Wyatt Moyer—to a sold-out stadium full of rabid fans.

That’s what I talk about when my parents call. I send them selfies of myself with kids who asked for my autograph. The first time it happened, I had this vivid memory of meeting my dad for the first time. Mom had gotten tickets to the Forge game, and he had just been signed. I wore that tiny, autographed jersey until I grew enough that the seams started to stretch.

By then, we lived together, and I could have had a thousand jerseys. But that first one felt so special. Someone famous took the time to talk to me. I try to keep that in mind, even if I can’t understand half the words these kids say to me.

I’ll get used to it.

I’m walking to my rental from the stadium after practice when my phone rings, and I see it’s my Grand, so, of course, I pick it up. “I miss you so much,” I blurt by way of greeting.

“Hey, guy, I miss you, too. Tell me, what trees you see?” Grand has a thing for hugging trees everywhere she goes, and she goes bonkers for species we don’t see a lot in Pittsburgh.

I walk toward a leafy little guy and squint at it. “I don’t know what half of these are called,” I admit. “This one looks like … floppy?”

“Could it be a corn plant?” Grand sounds so curious, I can almost see her looking up the flora of my new city while we talk.

“I guess? I don’t really know Grand.”

“Well, you’ll send me a picture later, I bet.”

I chuckle. “Sure. I’m walking home from practice now.”

“I took a guess you would be.” I hear a tap turn on. “I had a nice meeting today with the LGBTQ faculty group. Lots of folks there from other departments.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s unusual for Grand to call me with these sorts of work specifics, even though I was a student at the school where she teaches.

“Mm hm. Professor Yoon was there.”

I stop walking. “Is this about Fern?”

She hums. “Sort of. I did mention that they had had you as a student and that you’re my grandson. They seemed surprised that you withdrew rather than take an incomplete to wrap up your degree after you get settled.”

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