Page 47 of The Quiet After The Fall

She doesn’t know I’m a survivor of that accident. She can’t know. It’s just a class and she’s teaching. She’s not being cruel…

Someone taps my arm.

I flinch but turn and find the woman next to me watching me with kind eyes, her brows drawn just a touch. She looks a few years older than me or maybe she just comes across as having her shit together at first glance. Her hair is dark and curly, and she has olive skin, a Roman-looking nose, and the thickest natural eyelashes I’ve ever seen.

And of course she’s not wearing a frilly blouse.

She’s actually wearing black scrub pants and a hoodie, which I’d guess is covering a scrub top.

She mouths, Are you okay?

I exhale, realizing I probably look completely out of it to have a random stranger notice and reach out.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head like I have nothing to apologize for. I turn back to the lecture just as Irene hands a stack of papers to a student in the front to pass out. And suddenly, a green Jolly Rancher appears on my desk.

I look back and find her nudging toward it with her chin. “It’ll help.”

I unwrap it and stick it in my mouth, giving her a tight smile.

It does help.

She turns back to pay attention and I try to do the same.

I get most of the second half of the lecture. Lots of useful information about criminal versus civil cases. Why family law is more difficult than you’d imagine. Irene has a lot to say on that.

The Wonder World comment is still a low hum in the back of my mind, but it’s manageable.

By the time the Jolly Rancher is no more than a sliver on my tongue, Irene’s saying she’ll see us on Thursday and to log in for our first assignment. I pack up my laptop and move toward the door. My desk neighbor stops behind me and taps my shoulder.

“I’m Gianna.” She extends a hand and I shake it. “But everyone calls me Gia. Want to grab a coffee before the next class?”

I stare at her for five solid seconds, taken aback. It’s just been so long since someone’s been this upfront and friendly toward me, that I’ve forgotten how to be social.

“Hi.” I clear my throat. “Sawyer. I’m—” I wave at her. Why the hell did wave at her? “Sure. I’d like that.”

She nods with a smile, ignoring my social ineptitude, and I lead the way toward the small Starbucks in the student center.

“I’m surprised I still remember where it is,” I say, trying to avoid awkward silences.

“Were you a student here before?”

We turn down a hallway lined with framed photos of important alumni and staff. “Yeah, but it’s been a few years.”

“Nice,” she says. “I moved here a few months ago from the city. Still getting used to it.”

And that’s why she doesn’t know I’m a pariah.

I gesture toward her scrubs. “Are you a nurse?”

Her brows crinkle, but then she sees where I’m looking. “Oh, the scrubs. No. Not really. I’m a caregiver for this rich old lady in town. She prefers that I wear scrubs and I don’t put up a fight. I’d rather not change bedpans in my own clothes.”

“I’d feel the same way,” I say with a small laugh.

She nods toward my outfit. “You’d definitely want scrubs if you dress like that everyday.”

My face heats. Why the hell did I pick this outfit?