by Jamie Knight
I guess if we were to ever have a one-night stand, then it wouldn’t matter as much. Maybe I’ll just need to get comfortable with that fact and accept that I’ll probably never know why he doesn’t like me. It is what it is.
We’re outside and walking along the sidewalk when a limo pulls up next to us. I know exactly who it is before the door opens.
My dad.
I also know that he means well, but the fact that he keeps trying to pick me up after class every day or have me picked up is fucking annoying. He wants me to go straight home and not ‘dilly dally’ as he puts it.
I’m twenty-five! If I want to dilly dally, then that’s what I’ll do. I’d love to just walk home, but when I suggested that, my dad’s eyes practically popped out of his head. The only problem is that since he does pay for everything, I don’t always feel confident challenging him.
“We should…”
I don’t finish the sentence, instead pointing to the limo. Nicole gets my drift that I want us to stop walking.
The limo stops moving. The window rolls down and there’s Papa King. Ugh, it’s so embarrassing.
I know he worries about me because he has his own… issues… that he really needs to deal with. But I want to be treated like an adult.
My dad shelters me to an extreme point. I have an idea about why he’s so protective, but I don’t know the full reason. I used to try to figure it out. But at this point, I’ve almost stopped caring about the ‘why,’ and I just want it to stop.
“Hi, Dad,” I say.
“Why don’t you girls get into the car?”
It’s not a suggestion or question. Dad is telling me I need to get inside. He’s just extending a courtesy because I’m with my friend. I know his schtick. But I’m not going to argue with him right now because I don’t want Nicole to know about what’s going on in my head.
It’s just beyond uncomfortable when my dad pulls a move like this. It’s such an egregious display of wealth, to have to take a limo every day, and I really hate people knowing how rich my family really is.
It’s literally too much. Bringing a limo with a driver is one of the most obvious ways to show off. And that makes me feel even more shy and uncomfortable on campus than I normally am.
Why can’t my father understand this?
I don’t know, but it looks like I have no choice but to get in the limo, and Nicole, too.
Chapter Seven
Savannah
When I look at Nicole, I can tell that she is obviously thrilled at the prospect at riding in a limousine. I can see it on her face.
“Really? I can go with you guys?”
The peppy way she answers the question confirms my suspicions.
“Yeah, we’ll drop you off,” I respond.
I’m looking at my dad as I answer, narrowing my eyes at him. Nicole and I get inside, and she gives the driver her address.
While we ride, I have my hands by my sides in tight fists, holding in all the tense words I have for my dad. Instead of letting them out, I try to have a completely different conversation with Nicole to keep myself sane.
“What are you going to do with the rest of the day?”
Nicole tilts her head to the side.
“I was planning on having a lazy day, but I do have quite a few errands I’ve been putting off. I think I’m going to try to be productive instead.”
She rolls her eyes like she’s annoyed with the prospect, but I’ve never known Nicole to be someone particularly lazy. She was probably hoping for a bit of a break after studying so hard for the test, but her personality took over and she just had to get stuff done.
My dad is leaning back in his seat, watching the two of us.
“It’s always good to be productive,” he adds.
It’s not a surprising thing for him to say. Growing up, he was always on me about doing as much as I could— getting into the best classes, joining as many clubs as I could, and he had me get a part-time job so that I could learn the value of money.
Sometimes I’d get annoyed, but I did really like everything I got to do. He never forced me to do anything particular, so I had a lot of chances to find myself. But my dad is still in the mode of trying to guide my life and he desperately needs to get out of it.
“Thank you, Mr. King.”
Nicole smiles.
“What about you? What are you doing today, Savannah?” my dad asks me.
I shrug.
“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when I get back to my apartment.”
It wouldn’t have even mattered if I had had plans, because my dad has already effectively squashed any good mood I was in. I kind of just want to take a nap now.
We reach Nicole’s apartment and let her out. I want to get out and spend the day running errands with her, instead of having this inevitable argument with my dad, but that’s not going to happen.
“I’ll see you later,” I tell Nicole.
She says goodbye and leaves.
Once the car has driven about a block away, I begin to protest, loudly: “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” my dad sighs.
I think he’s playing dumb because we’ve had this conversation before. He knows exactly what I hate.
“You need to stop monitoring me like I’m a child. You’re overbearing and annoying and you treat me like I can’t take care of myself.”
“I just worry about you.”
“I don’t care, Dad. That line isn’t going to work forever to validate the crappy way you treat me. You raised me to be able to handle myself and I can. You just need to give me the space I need to live the life I want. You can’t keep me in a box.”
I feel like this is the third or fourth time we’ve had this argument this month. It all started back when I first began college and we’ve been going in circles ever since.
He sighs and puts a hand up to his temple. His hair, which was once as brown as mine, is now almost completely gray. Probably from worrying about me so much, for no good reason.
“I give you enough space, Savannah. I’m letting you go through this medical school phase. In fact, I’m completely funding this plan of yours.”
“It’s not just a temporary plan, Dad, and it’s not a phase! I want to become a doctor and I’m studying so that I can do that, and you need to take me seriously. Why are you incapable of doing that?”
I don’t know if I actually want to know the answer. There’s a high chance I wouldn’t like what he has to say.
“It’s not that simple,” he insists. “You know it’s not that simple.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and sits back in his seat.
I think I’m about to reach my breaking point. I wish I could just walk away from relying on my dad. But then I’d have no way to pay for school, nowhere to live. I’d like to think that I have an independent mind, but I don’t have any back-up plans for myself. It’s get through medical school— with my dad’s help— or bust.
“Okay, Dad. Whatever you say. It’s always whatever you say. I wish— I just wish—”
I’m scrambling for words at this point, but, before I can think of what exactly what I want to say, my phone rings. I take it out and see that it’s the university calling.
That’s strange. But maybe a class of mine is being moved to a different room or something.
“I have to take this.” I don’t wait for my dad to say anything before I answer, “Hello?”
“Savannah King?”
“Yes, I’m Savannah.”
“We need you to come to the dean’s office right away. It’s very important.”
From the woman’s tone of voice, it doesn’t sound good.
“Is everything okay?”
“You need to come to the dean’s office and then we’ll be able to answer all of your questions.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
I can’t think of any reason why I would need to talk to the dean. I hope I’m not in trouble. I
haven’t done anything wrong— that I know of.
I hang up and turn to my dad.
He frowns at me.
“Is everything okay?”
“I have to go back to the university. The dean wants to see me. Can the driver take me back?”
My dad nods.
“It won’t be a problem.”
The limo ride back to campus is quiet. I’m just all out of fight. I’ve been arguing with my dad for way too long and, sometimes, I can’t keep doing it.
I know we’ll come right back to it, though. And we can’t go on like this forever. I need him to accept the life I want, and I will fight for that until he does what I want or stops talking to me.
We get to the university and I don’t wait for the driver to get out to open the door for me. I open it myself.
Before I close the door, I tell my dad, “I’ll catch a cab ride home. I’m sure you have work to take care of, so there’s no reason to wait for me.”
He frowns at me again and lets out a big sigh.
“Okay, Savannah. We’ll talk later.”
I close the door and watch my dad be driven away. I’ll worry about him later. Right now, I’m worried about what the hell the dean needs to talk to me about.
Chapter Eight
Robert
Right after I had had lunch with Brent and Seth, I got a call and was told that I have to go to the dean’s office right away. They wouldn’t tell me why on the phone, just that I needed to head there immediately.
Honestly, it didn’t sound very fucking good. I hope everything is okay. It’s been a bit of a weird day— nothing life-altering or crazy bizarre has happened. But the day has just been… odd, to say the least. So now I’m wondering what else can possibly happen today.
When I arrive, the dean’s secretary ushers me into her office, telling me that she will be with me shortly. As soon as I walk in, I find Savannah sitting in one of the chairs in front of the dean’s large wooden desk.
Damn Savannah.
She keeps popping up throughout my day.
Is the universe trying to tell me something?
I feel like it’s trying to annoy me.
She turns when she hears me coming in and looks genuinely surprised that I’m there. I’m guessing from the look on her face that she has no idea what’s going on, either. I don’t go to take a seat yet because I’d rather not be close to her right now, so I stand just a little inside the doorway and lean on the wall.
“Hi, Robert,” she greets me, rather quietly.
“Savannah.”
She twists her mouth to the side, looking anywhere but at me for a couple of seconds. I wonder if she’s embarrassed about sticking her tongue out at me earlier today. I would be if I were her. That was so strange.
Her eyes find mine again and they’re rather inquisitive.
“Do you know why we’re here?”
I shake my head.
“Neither do I.”
She quietly sighs and then turns back around in her seat. I stay standing and quickly look her over.
Her chestnut brown hair is up in a bun that’s sitting on top of her head. She’s twirling a strand in her finger as she waits. There’s a kind of nervous energy coming from Savannah.
I’m a little worried also, but I’m sure it’s no big deal. I can’t think of a reason why we’re here, which makes me want to go to the worst-case scenario in my mind, but I’ll withhold a total freak out until I know what’s actually going on.
Dean Stapleton finally walks in and takes a seat at her desk. She’s a rather serious-looking, older black woman, with a plethora of gray braids piled on her head in an elegant fashion.
She straightens her navy-blue jacket and clears her throat. Once she’s situated, she looks up at me and motions to the seat next to Savannah, which I take.
I decide right then and there for some reason that I need to get over my hang-ups concerning Savanah. Brent was right when he said there’s something going on between us.
I disagree with his suggestion that it’s romantic, but I’m not dealing with whatever it is to the best of my ability, that’s for fucking sure. It’s not healthy, to be obsessed over disliking someone so much.
“So, I’m sure you both have a lot of questions and I’m hoping to clear this up as quickly as possible.”
The dean takes a pause and gives the two of us a curious gaze.
“What we have is a small problem,” she continues, folding her hands neatly on her desk. “Your embryology professor has brought to my attention that one of you cheated on the test this morning. We weren’t able to tell which one of you it was, which is why I called you both in.”
I sit up straighter in my chair and wrap my arms in front of my chest.
Cheated?
What is she talking about?
I would never cheat, which must mean Savannah copied my answers. She was staring at me for way too long— this could explain why! And she must have done all that weird, childish stuff to throw me off the scent.
But why would she do something so stupid?
I look at Savannah and she’s acting just as shocked as I feel. Her green eyes are wide open, and she has one slender hand gripping her chest.
I can’t believe the act she’s putting on, pretending like she has no idea what Dean Stapleton is talking about. Or maybe she’s just surprised she got caught.
The only thing is that she doesn’t look guilty. She’s really got that sweet, innocent thing going for her. It’s probably why no one else ever seems to think she’s as stuck-up and fake as I do.
I don’t foresee this working out very well for me. I’m quite sure that the dean will believe Savannah’s practiced act over me— even though I’m the truly innocent one.
“Why do you think one of us cheated?” Savannah asks, sounding almost breathless.
Did someone report us? We did have a weirdly long staring match, but that was after our tests had been handed in. Maybe that’s why the teacher thought something was up. I knew that staring back at her was a dumb thing to do, but I did it anyway, because I can be a fucking idiot on occasion.
“I mean, I didn’t,” Savannah adds and then glances at me.
The dean sits back in her chair and looks at me as well.
If Savannah’s going to defend herself, I know I’d better be ready to plead my case.
I might be facing a losing battle, but I’m going to go down swinging.
Chapter Nine
Robert
“I didn’t cheat,” I pipe in.
I frown at them both.
I’m not about to get blamed for all of this.
Savannah looks at me with confusion all over her face and then back at the dean. I would like to know what is going through her head. How can she act so innocent? I suppose she’s had years of experience.
“Look.” The dean opens up a manila folder on her desk and slides two exams over to us. “The two of you have the same exact test answers. The short answers are verbatim. There’s virtually no difference between your tests, other than the handwriting and the names at the top. I highly doubt this was just a coincidence. If you can explain it to me, I’d love to hear it. Otherwise, I’ll stick to my theory.”
I grab both tests and scan them. Savannah leans to the side, to look over my shoulder. I try not to pull the tests out of her sight like I wish I could.
If the answers are exactly the same, then Savannah must have copied mine. Because I know for damn sure that I didn’t copy hers.
I glare at her and she glares right back at me.
“Whoever cheated just needs to confess,” the dean continues. “This will make moving forward a lot easier and we can get everything squared away.”
“I told you I didn’t cheat!” Savannah squeals.
She sounds very distressed and I think she must notice her sudden change in volume because she shrinks in her chair and looks a bit embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I studied hard for th
at test and I knew my stuff and everything I wrote down were my own answers. I didn’t cheat.”
I glare at her and point to myself.
“Well, I didn’t cheat. I wrote my own answers, which means you copied me. It’s the only logical conclusion.”
I hear Savannah gasp.
“That is not what happened! I would never— that’s not what happened!”
The rage is pure on Savannah’s face and I’m feeling the same exact thing.
Why is she so insistent on lying?
Since I know I didn’t cheat, the only other conclusion I can come to is that she did. I’m not about to go down for this. I didn’t do all this hard work just to get the short end of the stick. I have a scholarship and I can’t afford to lose it.
“It’s the only thing that could have happened!” I snap back at her.
It looks like she’s on the verge of tears— and maybe I would care, if she wasn’t telling all these lies.
“Okay, enough!” the dean hisses.
I’d never had a professor or administrator snap at me like this and it shuts us both up. The dean looks between the two of us and takes a deep breath. She looks exhausted and puts both her hands to her temples.
I do feel bad for just yelling like that. It’s not her fault that Savannah’s lying, and I know that losing my temper isn’t going to solve anything. I need to stay rational. If I do, then maybe the dean will be more likely to realize I’m the one telling the truth.
“So, neither one of you wants to confess?” Dean Stapleton asks, after closing her eyes for a second.
“I didn’t cheat,” I respond.
“Well, I didn’t cheat,” Savannah echoes.
The dean looks between the two of us once again. She frowns deeper.
“And that’s your final answer? For both of you?”
Savannah and I look at one another for a second. Her mouth is a hard line and she looks back at the dean.
“It’s the truth,” she says.
“No, I am telling the truth,” I insist.
Maybe there will have to be an investigation by the school. It’ll be easy to prove that I’m the one who is telling the truth.
