I’m holding office hours today. Stop by and talk to me about why you’re missing my class this week.
I sitin my office for two hours past my appointment time, but she never shows.
I can’t think of anything I’ve said or done to deserve to be ignored, and I’ve gotten used to talking on the phone to her at night.
Maybe she’s in Boston again. Maybe she’s pushing her luck.
When I get back to my place, I pull up all three of the college writing groups she’s mentioned. There’s an event at Clam Bar tonight, but she promised she wouldn’t attend it.
I call the manager.
“Clam Bar, this is Carl speaking.”
“Carl, this is Liam Donovan. I’m a professor at Exeter.”
“Oh, hey dude!” he says. “I’ve got the camera set up to point at the stage right like you asked, and one of the servers already got the books signed. They’ll be here waiting whenever you come to town.”
“Thank you, but I was calling about something else.”
“I’m all ears for my new favorite customer.”
“You know that picture I sent you last week?”
“The one of the chick who was hot as fuck?”
“The one of thehigh school student.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not hot as fuck.” He laughs. “But yeah, what about her?”
“Is she there tonight?”
“Nah. I would’ve noticed.”
“You sure?”
“One hundred percent,” he says. “I’ll call you if I see her, though.”
“I’d appreciate that.” I end the call and send Genevieve another message.
Me
It’s not like you to skip class…What the hell is going on?
Still, nothing.
My phone suddenly sounds with an unknown number. Since Genevieve is M.I.A., I get comfortable and decide to spend some time with a telemarketer.
12
GENEVIEVE
“Oh my god, I got in!” Elizabeth Mitchell screams in the library. “I got into Harvard!”
Students swarm her laptop as she points to her acceptance email, but I can’t evenpretendto be happy for her.
The applause swells and echoes through the airy halls. While more students rush over to offer congratulations, tears prick my eyes, and my heart sinks to my stomach.
Holding back jealous cries, I shut my laptop and head outside.