But at the same time, it seemed as though all I needed to do was jump and I'd be flying away, soaring through the clouds. Like nothing could drag me down.
No one ever said that how you feel has to make sense.
"How are your courses?" Isabella said, deliberately ignoring a handsome, dark-haired young man who'd tried to get her attention.
That single question was enough to put some lead weights into my wings. I grimaced.
"Not great," I said.
Isabella frowned, dark eyebrows knitting together so that a small dimple formed between them. "How could that be? Haven't you been working harder?"
"Yeah, I have." Tendrils of worry formed in my stomach to accompany the lead in my wings. "That paper on Giulio Romano came back with a sixty."
Isabella blinked again. The dimple between her eyebrows deepened. "That cannot be correct. Maybe your mind saw a nine and flipped it to a six?" She made a quick flipping motion with her forefingers.
"No, it was definitely six-zero."
I understood her confusion. I'd had her read that paper for me. She'd given me a few tips for revisions that I thought really made the work stand on its own legs. I'd been expecting an 85 at the very least. And like I said before, Isabella was at least as smart as she was beautiful, and a grad student to boot. She knew her stuff and she'd given good feedback.
I'd pretty much gone into shock when I got the essay back.
"And this is not Dr. Aretino's course, yes?"
"And there's the rub," I said. She quirked an eyebrow at my idiom, so I filled in, "That's why I'm so confused."
I had that course with Professor Giovanni Di Cenzo, not Dr. Aretino. I'd had my highest mark in that course, and I'd been hoping that getting an awesome grade on this paper would nudge my average that much higher so that I could stay in the program.
"There must have been some mistake," Isabella continued.
I shook my head, "That's the thing. I went to see Professor Di Cenzo at his office hours and he said there was nothing wrong with the grade. And that he'd been expecting better work from me."
Her lovely eyes narrowed, her full lips compressing into a thin line. "I will go to him and make sure he knows that he has made a mistake."
Then she stood up, apparently preparing to storm Professor Di Cenzo's office then and there.
And while it warmed my heart that I'd apparently made a friend here willing to stand up for me like that, I also knew it wasn't her battle to fight.
"That's okay," I said, trying to stifle a laugh and only half-succeeding, "I'm going to go over the paper and the assignment tonight and then prove to him that the paper is worth more than a 60 at his next office hour."
I figured that would be it. That maybe he'd been in a bad mood while marking, and that perhaps I'd put him too much on the defensive when I went to confront him about it.
However, I couldn't quite shake the suspicion that there was more to it than a few simple lapses in judgment. But then again, I was trying to be happy, trying to be reasonable.
"Make sure that you do," Isabella sat again. It was implicit in that statement that if I didn't, she would.
A quick glance at my phone showed me that time had managed to sneak by quite quickly and stealthily. There was also a text from Liam saying that he looked forward to seeing me today after class.
A winking smiley-face concluded his message, and I wondered what he was up to.
"Gotta go," I said, re-shouldering my messenger bag even as I tapped out a quick reply to Liam, "Class."
"Please tell me how he reacts to your list," Isabella said.
"Will do."
It was only a few steps out of the quad and into the building. The air conditioner had been set too cold and I shivered as I moved from the warmth of the outside air into the cool embrace of the hall.
Though that wasn't the only cause of my shiver. I'd spent several hours writing up a list of 10 possible extra credit assignments that Dr. Aretino could choose from, if he hadn't come up with any by now.
If he chose any at all. I knew that college wasn't like high school. Professors weren't teachers with your best interest at heart. You couldn't count on them to take pity on you.
I also knew that Dr. Aretino liked me. Far more than was appropriate, of course. But if he truly cared about my academic performance, he'd give me another chance.
Or so I hoped. I planned on presenting him the list after this lecture. A lecture I'd studied my butt off for, intending on impressing him with my knowledge, on proving that I wasn't just begging for a pass.
I entered the lecture hall with about five minutes to spare. Pretty much all the other students had already seated themselves. I also noticed that the air conditioner was much less intense, though this was a mixed blessing.
It wouldn't be good if I ended up sitting in my seat near the end of the lecture sweating bullets.
My nerves died when the lecture started. As usual, Dr. Aretino stuck to his normal style of the dynamic discussion, presenting us with slides and facts, posing questions, allowing the students to interject and to argue with him on points.
It was rather like that lecture I'd had with him after Liam's secretary had told me the truth. I'd studied well, and I knew everything Dr. Aretino touched on. I made sure to add what I could, to answer his questions when he posed them.
By the end, even I felt impressed with my performance. This is in the bag! I thought.
We reached that restless point about ten minutes before class ended. That point where even the professor notices the clock and becomes eager for the ordeal to reach its conclusion.
Other students began packing away their texts and notebooks. I rifled through my clipboard until I reached my neatly-typed list. And then I had to fight to keep my hands off it. I knew it shouldn't be crumpled or creased when I handed it to him.
"Dr. Aretino," I said, approaching the lectern while he flicked the locks on his briefcase open.
"Emma, yes?" he said.
Something was different. Something that set my heart racing and tickled the nerves at the base of my spine.
"Do you have a few minutes? I have something I'd like you to look at."
"Yes, yes. I will see it."
He didn't tell me to call him Giuseppe, I realized. But that wasn't it. He seemed eager to leave. Usually every other class he demanded I stay and talk to him.
Feeling considerably less confident than before, I handed him the piece of paper. "This is the list I was talking about. I wrote down 10 ideas for extra credit assignments. I was hoping maybe you could approve one or two. I can have them all to you by..."
He waved a dismissive hand at me after glancing at the list. "These are no good."
If I'd had lead in my wings before this, his words sheared through them and left me plummeting towards the ground, vainly flapping my arms.
"Oh. Well, I can think of a few more possibilities. Or maybe there are other assignments you have in mind?"
"No."
"But if you just give me a chance. You saw how well I did during the lecture..."
Dr. Aretino slammed his briefcase shut. "All of your grades are slipping, Emma. I know; I have spoken with the rest of the faculty. You cannot save your grades now. Not without my help."
My gorge started rising. That paper should have been an easy A. "You talked to them? Or you told them to lower my marks?"
Dr. Aretino shrugged, the corners of his mouth drooping. "I don't know what you mean."
His eyes lied, though. The look in them, the way they glinted and flashed, told me that it was a lie.
A cold sensation crept through me, starting in the pit of my stomach and slowly working its way up my innards.
He saw the realization spread across my face. "You know I will always help you."
"If I pay your price."
Another shrug. "It is not so much, is it, really?"
I couldn't take any more of this. Crumpling the list into a ball, I tossed it into the bin beside the lectern. Then I went for the doors.
Dr. Aretino's voice stopped me. "The exchange program board will review your progress in two weeks. If there is no improvement, you will be asked to leave the program. They will also revoke your student visa. You will have to leave Italy."
Then I ran from the lecture hall. Straight to the women's restroom where I splashed cold water on my face until my cheeks went numb and the pressure behind my eyes faded to a dull ache.
Two weeks, I kept thinking. What can I possibly do with only two weeks?
It took me fifteen minutes to get home after that. There, I sat on my creaky bed and let my messenger bag slide off my arm.
Two weeks.
Dr. Aretino knew he had me. I had two choices. I could give in, give him what he wanted. Which in this case was me. Or I could accept the review board's judgment, tuck my tail up between my legs, and run back to Missouri and the tatters of my life that I'd left behind there.
A mirthless smile spread across my lips when I realized a cruel irony. Wasn't it only a little more than two weeks ago that I wanted nothing less than to leave this ancient city behind?
And now that I wanted to stay, they wanted me to leave.
I'd finally begun to reconcile with my grief over my father, with my guilt over the money he'd given me to come here, to not make it so that it was given in vain. And now he may as well have burned that cash for warmth for all the good it did me.
Except for Liam, I thought, I wouldn't have met Liam if not for coming here. Except that multiplied the guilt. I'd have to tell him I'd be leaving the country soon, and why.