Bastards and Scapegoats (Twisted Legacy Duet #1) - CoraLee June Page 0,46
it picks up everything that’s said. You have to weed through the useless bullshit, but it works well enough.”
“Do you sell your notes to your fellow frat brothers?” I asked with a smirk.
“I cannot confirm nor deny that I charge for my services. I’m not necessarily hurting for money, but I do like to make them squirm. Especially around midterm season. I will never understand why they think cramming for a test is going to work.”
I grinned before holding out my hand. “I’m Vera,” I said with a smile.
He took my hand, and I felt small in his warm grip. “Jared,” he replied. “Are you a freshman?”
“Yep. First day of school. It’s a little intimidating. I’m not even sure where my next class is.”
“Well, lucky for you, I have a weakness for pretty girls that like to handwrite their notes. What’s your next class?”
I blushed before tucking a hair behind my ear. Was he flirting with me or just being nice? “Feminism and Social Justice with Dr. Eva Yanukovich.” I pulled out my planner to double-check that was actually where I was supposed to go. “I’m going to school for social work,” I then quickly explained. My schedule was full of unique classes that I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into. One of my favorite things about college was getting to learn more about the subjects that genuinely interested me, and I loved studying people and society.
“Yanukovich also teaches my Paradoxes of War class,” Jared replied excitedly. “She’s seriously a genius.”
My mouth dropped open. “Lucky! I was waitlisted for that class! I swear her thesis on Classical Sociological Theory changed my life.”
Jared grinned. “Sociology minor?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nah. I’m fascinated by sociology, though. I’ve pretty much filled up all my electives with Yanukovich lectures.”
Jared nodded and licked his lips. “I think we’re going to get along very well, Vera.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and shifted in my seat. Jared was handsome and intellectually on my level. It was rare I found someone as excited about class as me. He tossed smoldering looks my way, rendering me nearly speechless.
But I couldn’t help the little thought in my mind that he wasn’t Hamilton. Not even close.
The front door opened, and in walked a woman wearing kitten heels, a cheetah print skirt, and a button-down black blouse. She had black hair tied up in a bun and round glasses. “Okay, class. Let’s get started.” She pulled down the projector screen and flipped off the lights. Jared shifted in his seat, brushing his arm against mine. “I’m not going to insult your intelligence by going over the syllabus. You’re more than capable of reading the thorough description of my expectations in the packet I emailed last week. We’re going to dive right into one of my favorite philosophical topics.”
The screen flickered on to a single quote. “You,” Dr. Bhavsar said to a slender brunette girl seated four chairs away from me. “Read it.”
The girl cleared her throat before speaking. “Those who tell the stories rule society.”
“You,” Dr. Bhavsar said while nodding at another student. “Tell me what this quote means.”
He looked around the room nervously before answering her. “The stories we tell have the power to control our realities,” he answered.
“What a beautiful textbook answer. I believe you read that on page fourteen, did you not?” He nervously nodded. “Stories are essential to building perception, ladies and gentlemen. We cannot function as a society without them. And he who tells the story, controls the narrative.” She licked her lips and clicked the next slide. “Stories help us make sense of the world around us, but they can also be dangerous. In many ways, stereotypes were created by irresponsible storytelling. Tell me a quality about yourself, and I can tell you a story that the world has assigned you. Most of the time, they aren’t even true. But again, those who tell the stories rule society. And there are many people in positions of power who profit off irresponsible narratives.
“What makes a credible storyteller? Why do you trust me to stand at this podium and talk to you about people long dead? Is it the multiple degrees hanging in my office? That thesis I spent four years writing? You”—she nodded at Jared beside me—“tell me why you trust me to stand here and teach you.”
Jared’s eyes widened, and he squirmed in his seat before answering, “You’re an educated woman who’s dedicated her life’s work to studying philosophy.”