her makeup is perfect but not overdone, and her eyes are always bright with wonder about the world around her. She’s brilliant and I’m very lucky she agreed to mentor me. “Come in and close the door behind you.”
“Ut-oh,” I laugh, closing the door as she asked. “I feel like I’m in trouble.” I say it jokingly, but when I turn to take a seat in front of her large mahogany desk, she has a frown on her face. “What?” My anxiety starts creeping out.
She takes off her glasses and that’s when I realize I really am in trouble. “Sasha, we’ve cancelled your orals for today. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I thought this was a conversation that deserved a face-to-face meeting.”
“What?” Oh my God. What’s happening?
“We don’t think you’re ready to commit to your candidacy. You are a smart girl…”
It goes on like that for twenty minutes. I feel the sting of tears. She comforts me. Tells me I’m brilliant. But if I was brilliant, then why are they insisting I take a semester off?
I walk out of her office stunned.
I’ve been ordered to think about my future. What do I really want out of this degree? Why do I want this degree?
What the hell?
Why the fuck does she think I want this degree? I want to study bones! It’s not rocket science! You need a PhD to get grants, and dig sites, and authorization from local governments. You need academic backing and to get backing you have to have a degree!
Of course, I didn’t say that. I told her what she wanted me to say. That I have a passion for anthropology. And it’s a not a lie. I like it. But it’s just a stepping stone to dinosaurs.
I stopped mentioning dinosaurs years ago once I figured out no one would take me seriously. So yeah, this program is not about dinosaurs. This program is about all kinds of old stuff. Fossils and human evolution and all that shit. What I’m doing is not so out of the ordinary. People use degrees to get other places all the time.
But this university, and specifically this program, does not want to be used as a stepping stone. And even though I never used those words in our conversation, she’s on to me.
I push through the doors of the museum so I can go upstairs and collect my things.
Collect my things! I’ve been ousted. I don’t even get to prove myself!
I am so glad Mike left for the day once I get upstairs. How humiliating it would be to have to pack up and walk out knowing he just got the dream assignment.
When I get to my desk I realize I have very few things to collect. Some office supplies in my desk drawer. Some notebooks with my lab results. And my dinosaur Chia Pet.
All my samples can stay in the freezers until I come back, Professor Brown said. If I choose to come back. She actually said that.
I slump down into my chair and struggle with this very unexpected ending to a day that was supposed to plant my feet firmly on the ground. I feel… defeated. And small. Insignificant.
But beyond that, I feel… cheated.
And, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, outed.
I’m a fraud. And she knows it.
I put my head on my desk and close my eyes. How many years have I painted this fake smile on my face, just trying to fit into this world? Ten years, that’s how long. Ten long years of pretending that I am normal. And what good has it done me? I’m on the cusp of success. I have the golden ticket in my sights, and it’s all pulled away in an instant because they know.
I’m not normal.
I’m a liar.
I’m a killer.
And even though she didn’t say any of that, that’s how I took it. Because it’s all true. I’ve been deceiving these people. Pretending that I’m one of them when I’m not. I’m damaged. And no amount of studying, no college education or PhD degree or fake smiles painted on my face, can change that.
I was never Sasha Aston. She doesn’t exist.
I was born, and have always been, Sasha Cherlin. Company kid. Daughter to a traitor. Child assassin.
After Sasha returns to the museum—looking down at the ground her entire way, so she never even notices me—I wait under the eaves of the building for her to come back out. But after a while I get cold and antsy,