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“So, any idea what you’re going to do to help up your grade? Or are you just going to drop the class and try again? Dr. Hernon teaches the same class, and she’s way more relaxed.”
I wish I could. “I need to get this degree finished. I still have two years to go, and I’m barely keeping myself above the water line without having the added class for the next semester as well. And I can’t lose a whole semester for that class alone.”
“Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. I know your brother relies on you. And you did get a later start. How old are you now?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Yeah. You need to be done with it as fast as possible so you can get a higher paying job.”
“Exactly. Now, if I can just scrape by with a C, I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “But you need to step up your game. We’re already almost halfway through the semester. There’s a lot of homework to go.”
I nod, dread settling in my stomach. “I know. I have no idea how, but I’ll just have to do the best I can and hope the C doesn’t cost me my financial aid.”
“Maybe it won’t, but your major GPA matters when you’re applying for a job. If you’re ever going to get that bakery open, you’ll need a high-paying job to foot the bill.”
“Open a bakery? Me?” I laugh. “I wish.”
She shrugs. “You never know. I know you have a lot on your plate—like alot—but you should seriously stop and think about yourself sometimes, Mel. You matter, too.”
“You’re too sweet, Fran.” I smile at her.
But I don’t think she understands.
Starting a business like a bakery takes a lot of money, and that’s something I don’t have.
Even if I got a high-paying job right out of college, which let’s face it, will never happen, every penny needs to go to Dorian’s care.
I want him to have as normal of a life as possible. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Now all I have to do is figure out how to survive Hard-ass Bank’s class in the process.
2
Aiden
Melody Everett, of course.
I recheck the word count on her essay.
It’s short by a solid three hundred words.
I shake my head.
Lazy.
A smudge of guilt slices through me.
I usually don’t think twice about telling a student how it is, but I have to admit, the look on her face was a bit startling.
Most lazy studentsknowthey’re lazy, yet Ms. Everett seemed to be genuinely shocked when I called her out on it.
But then again, a lot of college students are so wrapped up in themselves, they don’t see what’s right in front of them.
But she said she worked two jobs.
“Umpf. Stop that.” It’s not my job to sympathize with students. They chose to come to school, and they chose to take my class.
