Undeclared(81)

“Your photos look like you are trying out for the high school yearbook. Pretty pictures of flowers and trick photography? I hardly think you’d cut it as an art student here at Central. We are not here to train people to win Cosmo contests, but to capture the heart and soul of people through the lens,” he sneered the words as if just looking at my photos had begun to contaminate the department. I said nothing in my own defense because what could I say? That I liked pretty flowers and trick photography?

“Art is not about the acquisition of money. It is the portrayal of human suffering and triumph. Your photographs are as plastic as the images you are trying to digitally alter. Go back to your humanities studies.” He waved to shoo me out. I fled as if rabid dogs were chasing at my heels. My tears began to fall before I had even crossed the threshold of his office into the hallway.

It was my cursed luck that the FAC building was on the south end of campus, down by the theater and the diner that Noah had taken me to that first time. I ran home, straight down the middle of campus, tears streaming down my face. I heard ugly moaning sounds and, after a minute, came to the horrible realization that I was making them.

I had allowed myself to be convinced by my friends that I had talent, but deep down I must have known the truth. I hadn’t tried to enter the Art program here because I knew I wasn’t good enough. A little money and a lot of friendly encouragement had puffed me up, and Dr. Rossum brought me right back down to earth.

I ran up the stairs ready to bury myself in my bedroom, only when I opened the door I was greeted with the smiling faces of Lana, Noah, several sorority girls, and all of Noah’s roommates. It looked like a party was in progress. I wanted to die.


Noah

Grace stood at the doorway, her mouth slightly open, tear tracks running down her face. She was breathing heavily like she had run a mile to get here. We all froze in our tracks. And then Lana and I shook off our surprise and moved toward her at the same time. Grace rushed past us into the bedroom. I followed, but found the door locked. I didn’t even know these doors had locks. I jiggled the doorknob and then knocked. “Grace.” When she didn’t respond, I knocked louder. “Grace!”

“Stop it,” Lana hissed beside me. “You’re making it worse.” She tilted her head discretely toward the living room. Turning I could see the entire crowd of people standing and watching the drama. Grace wouldn’t want this, but I had to get in there. I didn’t know if some dickhead had attacked her outside or if she had terrible news from her family.

Swiftly I moved toward Lana’s bedroom. I would call her from the privacy of Lana’s bedroom. I didn’t ask permission or speak to anyone, but I signaled Bo with a tilt of my head. He responded immediately.

As I was shutting the door to Lana’s room behind me, I could hear Bo telling everyone to go home.

“Maybe you should just let her be,” Lana had followed me in.

“Do you know what this is about?” She turned away. “Tell me,” I grabbed her arm to pull her back.

“She wanted to surprise you,” Lana said, getting a little tearful herself.

“About what?” When Lana didn’t immediately respond, I pulled out my phone and dialed Grace’s number. Through the doors I could hear it ring, but Grace didn’t pick up. I hung up and dialed again. No answer. I dialed again. No ring. No answer. Fuck. I’d break down the door. Out in the living room, Bo sat on a chair, bent over with his elbows on his knees. He was tossing a phone back and forth between his hands.

“That hers?” I asked.

He nodded. “She opened the door and threw it at me.”

“Motherfucker,” I cursed. “Grace, talk to me.”

Lana was at my elbow again. “Maybe you should let me do it.”

“I’m not leaving until I see she is okay.”

“Just go to my bedroom and wait,” Lana gestured toward her room across the hall.

“Fine,” I ground out. I stomped off, signaling Bo to follow.

“Grace, it’s just me. What happened with Dr. Rossum?” I stopped and left the door to Lana’s room ajar so I could shamelessly eavesdrop. Bo sat down on Lana’s bed, my battle buddy, always having my back. Dr. Rossum? I mouthed to Bo. He shrugged. I had never heard of this dude. Was he one of Grace’s professors? Had he come on to her? White-hot rage flashed in front of my eyes, blinding me for a moment.

I heard a door open and soft murmurings then a soft sob. Goddamn, Grace was crying. I had never heard her cry. Shit. Was, there anything worse than hearing your girl cry and not being able to do a damn thing about it?