Page 56 of Damnation
“There’s nothing to understand. Someone must be very passionate about your academic training. Leave this office and celebrate; today is a good day for you, Miss Clark.”
***
I find myself outside the office door, my eyes still glued to the documents. My brain is short-circuiting, unable to form a single meaningful thought. What the heck just happened in there? An anonymous benefactor has paid a huge sum to ensure that I’ll be able to continue my studies. I can’t figure out who the hell it could be. Only three people—my mother not included—even know about the situation.
I quickly pull my phone out of my bag and text Thomas, Alex, and Tiffany the same message:My full tuition and housing has been paid by an anonymous source. Do you know anything about this?
It isn’t long before I receive their respective responses.
Tiffany:WHAT?!
Alex:An anonymous benefactor? How is that possible?!That’s what I’d like to know.
Thomas (after a few minutes):I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I reply to everyone:I just left the dean’s office. I have a receipt in my hands right now.
Tiffany:Maybe your mother?
Me:Can’t be. She doesn’t even have half the amount. Andafter our recent history, she’d never do it.
Tiffany:Right, that is weird. But hey, why does it matter who actually paid? The important thing was that it got paid! This is fantastic news. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a fingerprint on a fake disemboweled corpse. I’ll text you after class, love you!
A notification sound alerts me to a new text from Thomas:I was just coming to meet you when your idiot friend intercepted me. No point in telling him to fuck off, so now we’re in front of the auditorium. Hurry up before I kill him.
Me:I’m coming. Be nice to him…please.
I toss the papers and my phone into my bag, and quickly head for the elevators. I take the corner too fast, though, because I collide with a navy-blue sweater-clad chest. When I come out of my daze, I look up to find two blue eyes staring at me in shock. Logan. Great, this day is full of surprises.
Recently, Logan has started to orbit around me again, in class, in the library, during lunch periods. Thomas’s presence must have kept him from actually approaching, and that’s probably for the best. I can’t deny that I’m still ashamed about everything that happened to him because of me. His bruises are healed now, and fortunately he didn’t press charges against Thomas like I was afraid he would. But I can’t forget the things he said about Thomas and the way he tried to keep me from leaving his room that night.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to slam into you,” he apologizes, as shaken as I am.
“Don’t worry, it’s my fault. I was in a hurry, and I wasn’t paying attention.”
I look everywhere but at his eyes, and for a moment, neither of us dares to speak. Then Logan tucks his hands into his pockets and breaks the silence. “So how have you been? We haven’t had a chance to talk since that night…” He rocks on his heels, visibly uncomfortable.
“Oh, I’m fine, thanks. And you?” I manage, shifting my weight back and forth from one leg to the other.
“I’ve got no complaints. The life of the average American college student isn’t that bad.” He chuckles.
I huff through my nose. “Yeah, tell that to anyone who developed stress acne when they couldn’t keep up with the coursework.”
He gives me a big grin. “They’re probably taking the wrong courses, don’t you think?”
I smile back at him, more relaxed. Part of me appreciates that he can still talk to me like this, like nothing happened after so much did indeed happen. On the other hand, I’m astonished. My boyfriend beat the crap out of him, and I never spoke to him again, not even to apologize. He probably should feel some resentment toward me; it would be justified.
I shrug. “I don’t know; every course is the right course for me.” I put my bag back on my shoulder, and nudged by curiosity, I add: “What brings you here?”
“Meeting with the school counselor.” He points at the door next to the dean’s office.
“Is everything okay?”
He puffs out his cheeks and blows out a heavy sigh. “I need to rework my class schedule,” he answers shortly. With some uncertainty, he turns to the coffee machine a few paces away from us. “Can…can I get you a coffee?”
“Actually, people are already waiting for me…” I say, a little awkwardly.
“Maybe some other time?” he asks hopefully.
