year since starting college. Usually, the professors waive the work I missed while I was “sick.” I’ve been spiraling out of control this past month. It’s a pattern with me.
I can be okay for a while, and then I’m not. There’s a constant hole in my chest, void of all the things I can never have—respect, happiness, love. When life throws something my way to remind me who I am, I self-medicate and escape. I’m fucked up for weeks straight. I’m an equal opportunity addict. There isn’t a substance I haven’t abused. I have very little recollection of the past month other than my dreams of her.
Though I have to admit that she just might be my trigger. With her, I want more, but that will never be my reality. The weight of that is a hard pill to swallow. I am who I am. A beautiful girl isn’t going to change that.
I grab a muffin and an energy drink on the way out. I have no idea why there are muffins in my house. God knows I didn’t go shopping. It was either Ethan or my mother—probably both. I’d be dead without Ethan—that much is true.
I only have two classes today, and I’m glad.
Business Statistics is first, and the professor calls me up after class. “Mr. Harding, I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been ill. Are you doing better?”
“Getting better every day. Little by little,” I say in a pathetic voice, one that I’ve mastered for this exact situation.
“Good, I’m glad. I just wanted you to know that I’ve waived all of the assignments we had over the past month. You have enough to focus on with getting healthy. If you can, just complete the assignments from here on out.”
“Absolutely. Thank you so much,” I tell the professor and walk out.
English Composition is next, and this professor, a woman—Professor Gilbert—is a real bitch. I didn’t miss this class in the least. She, too, calls me up after class.
“Mr. Harding, so glad to see you up and around. I wanted you to know that you have exactly a month to make up all of the work that you missed over your little break.”
“But—” I start to protest.
“Your fake mono note might fool everyone else, but you’re not fooling me. I’ve looked into your records and spoken to your previous professors. I know this is a pattern with you, and I’m not buying it. You will make up everything you missed within a month, or I’ll fail you. Furthermore, I’ve signed you up for tutoring. You’ll have a minimum of twenty hours of tutoring to help make up for the class time that you missed.” Her voice is cold and firm.
“You can’t require that,” I hiss.
“Oh, yes, I can. It’s the least I can do. I know your type. You think the rules bend and change around you. Well, that’s not the way the world works, Mr. Harding. If you want something in this life, you have to work for it. If you’d rather not retake this class with me next term, you’ll have to show me that you know how to do the work.” She stacks up a pile of papers on the desk and slides them into her leather briefcase. “Any questions?” Her voice is perky, and her lips press into a tight smile.
She’s gloating. She knows she has me by the balls, and there isn’t a single thing I can do about it.
“No,” I grumble.
The urge to fight her on this is strong, but she’s right. She can prove that I’m a screwup and make this a lot worse for me.
“Great,” she says a little too cheerily, extending her hand with a paper in her grasp toward me.
I grab it from her.
“I looked at your schedule, and I took the liberty to sign you up for your tutoring sessions. The first one starts in an hour. The tutoring offices are located on the second floor of the library. You’ll see the room number for your first session. Work hard and good luck.”
With that, she walks out, and I flip her off as she exits.
What a bitch.
I weigh my options. Telling this broad to fuck off and dropping her class sound appealing. I could always take another English class next semester. However, there’s a big chance that if I do that, she’ll inform the rest of my professors and possibly the school that my doctor’s note is fake. If all of my professors make me catch up on a