Undeclared (The Woodlands) - By Jen Frederick Page 0,102
the difference too? “Go right in,” she said.
“So you’re back?” Dr. Rossum’s flat voice met me at the doorway.
“I am, sir,” I said. The sound of his voice made me falter a bit, and I recalled the harsh words he had flung at me before. But I shrugged the memory off and entered the messy room. There was still no place to sit and barely any place to stand. Noah had said to imagine a steel rod from the base of my foot into the floor to keep me steady and focused. I visualized instead a long metal chain that hooked me to Noah, my rock, and mentally grounded myself.
“Do you have new material for me?” He held out his hand wearily as if this meeting was too tiresome for life.
“I do,” I said and stepped forward, handing him my portfolio. He paged through quickly as he did before and then stopped at the photo of the girl on the bench.
“Why did you take this picture?” he demanded, his demeanor a little less tired.
“She reminded me of my mother,” I admitted.
“Your mother wears poorly-fitted cardigans and ugly shoes?” he mocked.
“No. My mother’s eyes are dead. Her spirit was snuffed out when my dad died. This girl’s eyes show the same thing. No life. Something killed her inside. Nothing is growing there yet. Not now. Maybe not ever,” I said flatly. I didn’t relish dredging up my old pains; by including those pictures, I was offering up a piece of me. I’d look foolish trying to deny those feelings to Dr. Rossum.
He looked at me sharply and gave me a short nod. “It’s not like I can really keep you out of the program.”
I didn’t say the obvious, which was that he could. Instead, I waited for the official verdict and tried to keep the triumph off my face. Probably an impossible task. Noah and I hadn’t practiced that. It was enough that I was still on my feet.
Dr. Rossum tapped the portfolio against his hand. “Do you know why I am hard on students, Ms. Sullivan?”
I shook my head. Because you’re an asshole? I thought, hoping my thoughts weren’t blazing across my face like a neon sign.
“Because,” Dr. Rossum instructed, “if you plan to be an artist you need to learn how to take criticism and stand up for your work. If you don’t love it, no one will.”
There were better ways of teaching, in my opinion, but I wasn’t going to voice those to Dr. Rossum, I said nothing.
“Nothing to say for yourself?” he finally asked.
“No, sir. I plan to let my art do my talking,” I replied, allowing a little snarkiness to leak through.
“You have a lot to learn, Ms. Sullivan.”
“I hope that the art program will teach it all to me,” I said. This time I couldn’t prevent a smile because we both knew I had won.
Dr. Rossum grunted and tossed the portfolio to me. This time all the photos remain safely tucked inside. “Leave your email with Ms. Grant. She will send you the admissions papers, and you can start classes in the spring.”
After I did as Dr. Rossum instructed, I sped down the stairs to Noah.
He saw me running from inside and caught me as I flew out of the doors. “I’m in,” I cried with happiness and showered kisses all over his face.
He threw back his head and shouted “Ooooorah,” which made me laugh like a loon. People stopped and stared at our spectacle, but I didn’t care.
“I knew it,” Noah laughed and carried me down the stairs, setting me down when we had reached the bottom.
“Oh you did, did you?” I teased, slapping him lightly on the arm with my portfolio. He grabbed it and carefully tucked it into his backpack.
“Yup,” he said, cradling me under one of his arms as we started the trek back across campus toward my apartment. “Either you were going to get in, or I was going upstairs to break Dr. Rossum’s legs. It was all good.”
I snorted and said, “Well I’m glad I could save us both with my superior skills, then.”
“How so?” Noah queried, grinning down at me.
“Because otherwise you’d be expelled, and I’d be a humanities major, if not for my photographs.”
“I’ve always known you were superior,” Noah said, all sign of humor vanishing. “You’re too good for me.”
“Bullshit,” I said, in a no-nonsense voice. “We’re just right for one another. Let’s go home and celebrate.”