by Mona Kasten
Still a bit out of breath from my mad dash, I made my way between the tables and set my stuff down next to the dark-haired girl. And then I climbed up on an empty table.
“Who’d like to tell Dawn what we’re working on?” asked Professor Gates. “Blake, put down your phone or I’ll take it away and call your mother.”
Blake paled and shoved the phone into the back pocket of his low-hanging jeans. “Sorry, Nolan.”
“Say hi to your mother for me later and tell Dawn what our assignment is so we can continue,” our instructor replied, snapping his fingers impatiently.
“Okay, so last week Nolan had us pick pieces of paper out of a hat; each one had the name of a character on it and we had to write a monologue from that person’s point of view.” Blake cleared his throat and bent down to pick up his notebook. “We’re supposed to read the monologues out loud now and afterward everyone has to guess which monologue fit which character.”
“So, pay attention to: age, gender, and profession,” the dark-haired girl added.
“Thank you, Everly,” said Professor Gates and clapped his hands together. “So, who wants to start?”
There wasn’t time for me to ask Everly why we had to stand on the tables.
The guy to Blake’s right cleared his throat, unfolded his paper and looked quizzically at Professor Gates, who simply clapped again and grinned broadly.
“Today my mommy gave me a peanut butter sandwich to take to school,” the guy began, in a dark, otherwise normal tone.
It seemed we had to guess who it was on the basis of wording and sentence structure alone.
“During recess, I switched my lunch with Kyle’s. He had tuna, which he doesn’t even like. I don’t like it either, but Kyle is so sweet. So I pretended to eat it. But when no one was looking, I threw it into my backpack. Now my bag stinks and Molly called me Fishy. That’s mean. But then when I was doing gymnastics, I got to swing on the high bar and they didn’t. Kyle was watching and he waved at me. I’m feeling better now.” He concluded with a little nod and everyone laughed politely.
His text made me think right away of an eight-year-old girl.
“Good job, Jamie,” Professor Gates beamed. “Your turn, Everly.”
She nodded, opened up her sparkly notebook and read: “I’m tired and not just physically but also mentally. When I turn over I notice how cold the other half of the bed is. I want to tell her about my dream but she’s not there any more. After all these years she’s gone and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. I tell everyone I’m fine but it’s not true. I only feel okay when I don’t have time to think. So I fill my time with activities that suddenly seem meaningless. But I’m still stuck on her; I can’t think of anything any else except for following her, wherever she went.”
Wow. Everly’s piece gave me goose bumps. Her language was so simple, but somehow it still managed to get under my skin. I was sure her character must be a widower but it was hard to guess his age. It didn’t sound like someone elderly, more like someone middle-aged.
“That was great, Everly,” Professor Gates said, pointing to the next student.
We listened to all the monologues before Professor Gates let us sit down. The rest of the seminar we spent writing our evaluations and discussing them afterward. We dissected every text and discussed the passages that had hinted at the age or gender of the character. The whole time, Professor Gates sat on top of a table, his legs dangling down. If someone said something he disagreed with, he would jump in and argue until his opponent ran out of responses or until Gates had nothing more to say and nodded supportively. It was a really interesting hour, even if my stomach started knotting every time I thought about how next time, I would have to stand on a table and present my homework like all the others.
When the class was over, I gathered my things and started to follow Everly and the others into the hall, when Professor Gates called me back.
I walked cautiously to his table, where he was still sitting, his red Converse sneakers dangling down.
“Yes, Professor Gates?”
“Nolan,” he corrected me. “How did you like the class?”
“I really liked it,” I said, without missing a beat.
“What course did you transfer from?” he probed.
“Early American Literature up to 1865.”
Professor Gates wrinkled his nose. “Why, may I ask?”
“There was some… friction,” I said, hesitantly.
“Listen, Dawn. In my class there is no beating around the bush. Everyone can say what they think without being criticized for it. Got it?” He waited for me to nod, before continuing. “Good. Okay, so: why did you switch classes?”
I took a deep breath. “I had a difference of opinion with my professor.”
Gates nodded encouragement. “Okay, we’re getting closer. What was this difference of opinion about?”
Again I took a deep breath, remembering how Professor Walden had humiliated me.
“I have trouble speaking in front of a lot of people,” I explained, cautiously.
“And Atticus raked you over the coals. I get it,” Gates muttered and rubbed his chin. “As I already said, this room is a safe place. Everything we learn and discuss remains between us. I’ve had a few students in the past who have transferred into my classes and had to learn the ropes, but I always manage to get them over their shyness. And I’ll help you get over it, too.” He jumped off the table and walked behind it, reaching for his pile of books. He rummaged through them and pulled out a piece of paper for me.
“This is the syllabus and these are the assignments we’ve done up till now. It would be great if you could get one or two writing exercises done by next week. You can send them to me by email if you don’t want to present them in front of the others. At the end, there’s a numbered reading list. You can actually find all the texts in the library. Don’t hesitate to get in touch with me if you have any problems or questions. Anyway, I’m always pleased to have a new face in my classroom.” He held out his hand to me and I took it, shocked. He placed his other hand over mine and kept it there for a moment. “Pretty soon you’re going to forget all about Professor Walden. Believe me.”
Chapter 15
Professor Gates’ assignments were so much fun that I finished five of them before the next class. I was eager to do them not just because I wanted to make a good impression on my new professor, but because the assignments definitely boosted my creativity.
Also, my book, Hot for You, had just come out. I uploaded the story on Wednesday evening and it was already available at noon on Thursday. My first readers wrote to me on Twitter and two bloggers asked for copies for their e-readers. It still amazed me that so many people would read the stories I’d written just for fun.
Sawyer kept my secret. Sometimes she made cryptic remarks when I was sitting at my laptop, but otherwise she handled it well. All in all, I was glad that we now shared more than just a dorm room. But we didn’t see each other much that week because I was so busy with my book and with preparations for Allie’s upcoming birthday.
We were gathering at Monica and Ethan’s place to plan a surprise party for Allie. I was sitting in a huge leather armchair, telling Monica and Scott about my new class while we waited for our other friends.
“I’ve heard about him,” Scott said.
“I haven’t,” Monica said.
“He’s so friendly. And open. And completely insane, but somehow…” All I could do was shrug—it seemed impossible to really describe Professor Gates.
“Is he hot?” Scott asked, one eyebrow raised.
I frowned. “If you have a soft spot for rumpled layers and long hair, then yes.”
“You can do a lot with long hair.” Scott sighed dreamily and leaned back on the couch.
“How do you manage to twist every subject into something sexual?”
Monica asked, almost admiringly.
“I’ve got a great imagination.”
“Micah wouldn’t approve.” Monica pursed her lips.
“A little fantasy never hurt anyone,” Scott said with a shrug.
I heard the door open and close behind me. Turning, I saw Ethan enter the living room with Kaden and Spencer in tow. Spencer was on his phone and gave us a little wave with his free hand, smiling.
“Got it. I’ll take a closer look at Jeremy next time,” Spencer said, chuckling. After a short silence, he looked down at his feet and grinned. “I won’t embarrass you, Livvy. I’ll be subtle. I’ll just ask him for his number and say I’m the one who thinks he’s cute.”
From across the room I could hear the person on the other end of the line cursing.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Gotta go now, we’re planning Allie’s surprise party. Uh-huh. Sure, I’ll call again tomorrow. When I’m done… Love you too. Say hi to Mom for me. See you.” He hung up and turned toward us, smiling. Livvy had to be his nickname for Olivia. Judging by his smile and the warmth in his eyes, everything seemed okay—maybe even excellent.
“Hey, guys,” he said. “What did we miss?”
“Except for the fact that Dawn has a new prof? Nothing.” Scott’s grin was just a bit lascivious.
“Did you get into Professor Thornton’s class?” Spencer asked, leaning on the back of my armchair.
I rose and offered him my place. He blinked in surprise. Before he could protest, I had plopped down on the floor in front of the chair and leaned back against it.
“Who’s Professor Thornton?” Scott asked.
“A prof who’s so good looking that it makes me question my own sexual orientation,” Spencer said from behind me. The chair creaked as he sat down.
“If you can sneak a picture we can compare him with Dawn’s new professor,” Scott ventured.
“There is no way I am going to take a photo of Nolan for you to ogle at,” I declared.
Scott waved his index finger at me. “Aha! You’re already on a first-name basis! Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell Allie…”
“You’ll tell her no such thing!” My cheeks reddened.
“You of all people, taking up with a professor!” Scott raised his eyebrows and looked at me sidelong.
What a nut.
Spencer laughed and his chair gave another creak as he stretched his legs to either side of my body.
“Please, we all know Dawn’s secretly lusting after me,” he announced and suddenly his hands were on my shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Dawn?”
All I could do was roll my eyes. “You guys are all crazy. Every single one of you.”
“And that’s exactly why we get along so well,” Scott said. “Now, can we talk about Allie’s birthday? Are you guys really sure that we should throw the party on the night before her birthday? It’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? And Kaden, you wrote that you wanted to talk about a gift.”
Kaden nodded. “I love the idea of partying past midnight and into her birthday! She’ll never guess what’s coming. And you all know that Allie’s not big on presents. So I thought it might be nice to all go away somewhere together.”
“So let’s celebrate the night before. I kind of like the idea. But I’m not so sure about the trip. If you’re talking about some sort of extreme hiking adventure on Mt. Hood, I’m out,” Monica stated.
“That’s not what he said, Baby,” Ethan murmured in her ear. “Just listen.” He interlocked his fingers with hers.
Monica looked relieved. “Just saying.”
“Allie’s wanted to go out to the coast for a while now, but somehow we haven’t made it yet,” Kaden continued. He looked over at Spencer and nodded.
“A few years ago, Kaden and I rented a house at the coast,” Spencer said, and I leaned back to look at him. He took his hands from my shoulders and gestured to the others. “I’ve done some research and found a place that’s pretty cheap if we all chip in. We thought it would be nice to reserve it for a weekend and do day trips from there.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. Spencer looked down at me.
“You think?”
I nodded for emphasis.
“I’m in,” Scott added.
“We’re in, too. Right, Baby?” Monica asked Ethan, who gave a thumbs-up.
“Can I use your laptop?” Kaden asked Ethan. “If no one minds, I’ll book it right now so Allie won’t have any idea. Then I can show you the house, too.”
It was so cute, the way Kaden was trying to hide his excitement. He might be a tough guy to the world, but when it came to Allie, he was a softie. And it made me smile.
“Of course, buddy. Let me get it,” Ethan said, disappearing briefly into the bedroom. A few seconds later, he reappeared with his computer in hand. He set it down on the coffee table in front of Kaden, who immediately started typing and scrolling.
“Look.” Kaden turned the laptop toward Scott and Monica.
“That’s gorgeous! Wow,” Monica said, and Scott nodded.
Kaden described the location, the view, and the layout of the house. When it was my turn to look at the screen, I did a double take.
The house was right on the beach in Coos Bay and it was really affordable if we all chipped in. Two of the four bedrooms had an ocean view. Images of writing in a room overlooking the sea and drifting off to sleep to the sound of crashing waves drifted through my mind.
“She’s going to love it,” I gushed, and pushed the laptop back to Kaden.
“Then I’ll make the reservations now.”
Meanwhile, we started planning the party.
“For sure Kaden can’t do the shopping and keep all the food at their place,” Monica said eventually. “And our fridge is too small.”
I nodded. “So is mine.”
“I’ll get the food and keep everything at my place,” Spencer volunteered.
I put his name on the checklist next to “food.”
“Who’s going to distract Allie?” Scott asked.
“Dawn, of course. Who else?” Spencer chimed in, as if it were a done deal. I glanced up at him over my shoulder.
“Well, I can probably manage it.”
“You have to be stealthy. You can’t be dressed up or anything. You should wear sweatpants and suggest a girls’ night in or something,” Scott suggested.
“That would be conspicuously inconspicuous, especially on the night before her birthday,” Spencer replied.
Looking over my shoulder, I nodded. “Spence is right. We could just go out for dinner or plan a spa night with face masks, manicures, etc….”
“Yes!” Kaden said, pointing at me without looking away from the computer screen.
“Great, that’s settled then.” Another checkmark on my list. “Who’s going to invite everyone else and swear them to secrecy? Scott?”
“Natch.”
“And Monica? Can you handle the decorations?”
“Gladly.”
Kaden bobbed his head up and down. “I want the whole place to look like a unicorn exploded in there. Do you guys think they make party hats for cats?”
A laugh escaped me. “I kind of doubt Spidey will let you do that to him.”
He shrugged. “If I ask nicely, he might consider it.”
“A guy who takes Professor Thornton’s class with me works at a party supply store. They have stuff like helium balloons,” Spencer said.
“Oh, fantastic!” I said, clapping my hands. Allie loved things like that. “The best would be balloons with Spider-Man or other Marvel characters… I wonder if they have any with the number twenty. Oh! Or we could…”
Spencer burst out laughing.
“What?”
He grinned at me. “If I’d known how much you like balloons, I would’ve gotten you one a long ti
me ago.”
“There’s nothing cooler than helium balloons, Spence.”
For a moment our eyes locked and everything faded away around me. My gaze drifted to his mouth: his smile was crooked but sincere.
How did he manage to make it look so easy? He had a lot on his plate but somehow he seemed like the happiest guy in the world. It was both inspiring and worrying, the way he presented himself in front of our friends. But it didn’t feel fake, it didn’t feel like he was putting on an act at all. Spencer wasn’t a liar; if he was happy, he wore it on his sleeve like he did now. I really wanted to know what was going on behind that smile.
When I looked up again, the sparkle in his eyes had been replaced by something else. My throat was dry and a knot had formed in my stomach.
Scott’s “ahem” interrupted my thoughts; I turned my attention back to the list, ready to cross off another task.
Chapter 16
It was my third class with Nolan, and today we were doing an exercise that he called Literary Telephone. We had to write a half-page descriptive text and hand it to our neighbor on the left. Then we had to take the text we’d just received and rewrite that into the most boring text ever. We had to keep doing this until everyone got their own paper back again. We then each read aloud the first and last paragraphs and analyzed what had been changed through the many drafts.
By now I’d warmed up and wasn’t so afraid to read aloud. It seemed easy, since we were sitting in a circle on blankets that Nolan had brought to class. Besides, there were only six of us. It was a manageable number, and I got along with everyone well. Especially Everly, the girl with the short black hair and gray eyes. We were already planning to go for coffee.
At the close of the hour, Nolan joined us on the floor and folded his hands in his lap. “What did you get out of this exercise today?”
It wasn’t long before Jamie spoke up. “Sentences have to be balanced. When you told us to write a descriptive paragraph about anything we wanted, we all worked so hard that the first drafts were totally overloaded with adjectives.”
