Page 23 of Forbidden Hearts
“Good luck.”
She winks. “I don’t need it, I have potatoes.”
* * *
“I understand that, sir, but I need to apply, and they’re going to request my transcripts.”
I don’t know why this is so hard for my academic advisor at Iowa to understand.
“I am not sure what you want me to say, Miss Bettencourt. I can’t send these until the semester is over and grades have been finalized.”
“Right, but most of my grades are final now.”
“Most is not all, and I cannot release incomplete transcripts. This school has standards and rules, and while you have chosen multiple times not to follow them, I can’t just bend to your whim. So, I suggest you wait until the end of the year and put in your official request then.”
Every part of me wants to rail and fight back. Victor Waite is one of Jonathan’s friends, so I’m not really sure what I expected. Maybe some professionalism?
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Waite. I’ll be in touch at the end of the semester.”
What else can I do at this point? I’ll submit my unofficial transcripts as well as some letters from professors who aren’t complete assholes and another essay. Once the year is over, I’ll file the request and go from there.
The bell rings, and kids start barreling out of the doors, reminding me of just how exciting it was once you were finally done with school. I look for Olivia, but I don’t see her right away. Once the larger group of kids have dispersed, she exits.
I wave, and her smile is automatic.
Mrs. Arrowood’s face brightens, and she urges Olivia toward me.
“How was school?”I sign.
“Over.”
I laugh.“And now it’s the weekend.”
“Will you come fishing tomorrow?”she asks.
Fishing?“I don’t think so. I have to do some schoolwork.”She makes a face.“I agree.”
“Can we get ice cream?”
I’m pretty sure the binder had a strict no-sweets policy, which is utter crap if you ask me, but there must be a loophole. And that would be Asher.
“Let me ask your dad.”
I fire off a text.
Can we pleaaaaaaaase get ice cream?
Asher
Why are you asking me?
You’re the parent.
Asher
You’re the terrible nanny.
So, are you giving me permission to disobey the binder?
