by Claire Adams
I found my mother in the kitchen, standing at the marble-topped island, arranging flowers into a big square vase. My mother didn’t work and was always trying out new hobbies; the latest being flower arranging. These hobbies sometimes last a year, sometimes a month, but nothing ever really seemed to captivate her.
“Tessa!” she said, looking up as I walked into the kitchen. She put down the flowers she was holding and came over to give me a hug. She always acted as though it had been months since we’d last seen each other, not weeks, or sometimes, even, days.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, returning the hug. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, I’m just trying out some new arrangements,” she said. “We weren’t expecting a visit from you today! Not that we’re complaining. Does your father know you’re here?”
“No, I just walked in; I haven’t seen Dad yet.”
“Well, you came at the perfect time, because he’s going to play golf soon with his friends. Then it’ll just be me here, so maybe you’d like to go out to lunch?”
“Um, sure, maybe, but first there’s—”
“Tessa! I thought that was you.” I turned as my father walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a navy blue polo shirt with a lightweight argyle sweater vest over it, and khaki shorts. Definitely ready to head out to the golf course. He gave me a quick hug and kissed my cheek. He was always in a good mood before he went golfing, so maybe that would help with what I was about to tell them.
“Oh, Tessa, do you know who I was just talking with?” Mom said.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Marjorie! And she was asking about you. She said Brynn’s doing so well at Brown. She’s really loving it. We all knew she would.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. Marjorie was my mother’s best friend, they’d been best friends forever, and they often liked to say how they had planned their whole lives out when they’d been younger and that it had mostly come to fruition. Especially the part about marrying handsome men and being rich and having successful daughters. Except lately, I was feeling less and less like a successful daughter and more and more like a complete failure.
“There’s something I need to talk to you guys about,” I said.
“Oh?” my mother asked. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Well, yes and no.” I could feel both of them watching me; I could sense my mother’s nervousness rising. She was not the sort of person that you would confess bad news to; she couldn’t deal with it. It would make her anxiety shoot through the roof. She was the sort of person who liked to hear happy news, who wanted things—especially in her own life—to always be going right. In other words, she certainly wasn’t going to be thrilled to hear that my grades weren’t what they thought they were.
“I haven’t been doing so well in school,” I said. I said it in a rush, just wanting to get the hard part over with. There. I’d put it out there. I looked at their faces and could immediately tell that neither were very happy with what I’d said.
“What do you mean?” my father asked. “I thought your studies were going quite well. That’s what you’ve been telling us when we’ve asked. Were you being dishonest?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I thought . . . I thought that things were going better than they were, actually. I thought that I was doing pretty well in most of my classes, but there were a couple tests that I didn’t do perfectly on, and a few assignments that I got a lower grade than I’d anticipated. So all those factors have combined to bring my GPA down. And I’m telling you now because I wanted you to be aware, and also, I want you to know that I’m going to do everything in my power to bring them back up.”
My father was frowning. “We have an agreement, Tessa,” he said.
“I know.”
“And that agreement says that you will maintain your A average if you expect us to support you financially. We’ve been very generous with our support, in fact, and we have no problem doing so, so long as you keep up your end of the bargain. But it doesn’t sound like that’s happening.”
“Things aren’t going to stay like this,” I said. “I promise. I mean, I didn’t even have to tell you guys this, because I’m going to get my grades back up, I just wanted to be forthcoming with you, and—”
“Oh, Tessa,” my mom said. It sounded like she was about to cry. “This is terrible news. Is something going on with you? Something that would cause your grades to plummet? I mean, I just got off the phone with Marjorie and I was telling her how well you were doing!”
“No, no, nothing bad happened,” I said. “Nothing like that at all. I just told you guys what was going on, and I’m going to get my grades back up.”
“You’re damn right you are,” my father said. He had a bit of a temper, my dad, and the littlest thing could set him off. I should have known not to bring this up; I should have just gotten my grades up and not said a word about it. But I’d been afraid that they’d somehow find out and be upset that I hadn’t told them to begin with.
“This is not acceptable, Tessa,” my mom said. “Things are getting more competitive these days—not less. You can’t get by on B’s like you used to be able to. Don’t you want to succeed in life? Don’t you want to go out and get a good job—have a real career—when you’re done with school? We’re supporting you now so you don’t have the stress of having to work a job while going to class, or take out a huge student loan that you’re going to be stuck paying off once you graduate. Not every student is as lucky as you are.”
“I know,” I said. “And I appreciate everything that you guys are doing, I really do. And of course I want a career, and it would be really hard to be working a job and going to school.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” my father said.
“I’m going to get my grades back up.”
He nodded. “Good. And I hope you’re serious about it, because if your grades end up being anything less than what they’ve been in the past, that’s it, Tessa. We’re cutting you off.”
My jaw dropped. “Really? Just like that?”
“That’s what we agreed upon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So I don’t think you should act surprised that we wouldn’t continue to support you if you weren’t doing what you were supposed to. And what you’re supposed to be doing right now is getting A’s. Not B’s. That was not part of the arrangement. And I believe I told you that if you did start getting grades that weren’t A’s, we would no longer be financially supporting you.”
I nodded. “You did.”
“Did you think I was joking?”
“No.”
“I know there are plenty of parents out there who make idle threats, who would be willing to look the other way for something like this,” my father continued, “but I meant what I said, Tessa. A B is not an A.”
“I’ll get my grades back up,” I said, feeling my chin shake, which was a sure sign that I was about to start crying. Except I didn’t want to start crying, because there was nothing to really be crying about—I just had to get my grades back up. Plain and simple.
“What happened?” my mother asked. “I don’t believe you when you tell me that nothing happened. That doesn’t make sense, Tessa, because you’ve always been a good student. Something must have happened.”
She was looking at me imploringly, her eyes begging me to confess some awful thing that had occurred that would explain why my grades weren’t what she thought they should be. My father just stood there, arms folded across his chest, looking pissed.
Nick had broken up with me before I’d mentioned anything about him to my parents. So they really had no idea that I’d ever been involved with anyone. I’d gone on a few dates in high school, had gone to prom, but I’d never had a serious boyfriend. Not that Nick was a serious boyfriend or anything, but at one point, I had hoped he would be.
“I was seeing someone,” I said.
“Oh?” my mother asked. “Seeing someone
? Like a boyfriend?”
“Yes. Well, no, not exactly like a boyfriend.” I realized how this made it sound, though—like I was just hooking up with some guy for sex. “I mean, we were together, and we liked each other, and I guess I just thought it was more serious than it actually was. He broke up with me before I could really tell you guys about him. And I wasn’t expecting it, and it sort of got in the way of my schoolwork. Which I realize was stupid, and I shouldn’t have let happen.”
“Tessa,” my mother said. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Breakups can be really hard.”
“Mom, I don’t think you could have helped me.”
“Well, we would have at least known what was going on with you.”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal.”
My father looked far less sympathetic, though. “So you’re telling me that this is all about some guy?” He shook his head. “That’s not acceptable, Tessa. You can’t let yourself get sidetracked like that, especially over some boy.”
“It’s done and over with!” I exclaimed. “I’m not involved with him, I’ve accepted that he doesn’t like me like that, and I’ve moved on. I’m not letting it distract me anymore. You guys were asking if something had happened, and I’m telling you.”
“I’m not too interested in hearing about your relationship woes, Tessa,” my father said. “Are you trying to tell us you need to see a psychologist? Some sort of mental health professional? Is that what this is?”
“What? No!” I shook my head. “I don’t need to see someone! I was just telling you what had happened.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to make excuses.”
“I’m not.”
My father nodded. “Good. And now I need to get going; I’m going to be late.” He went over and dropped a quick kiss on my mother’s cheek, nodded briskly at me, and then was gone.
“Well,” I said, looking at my mother. “That went great.”
She sighed. “Tessa, you know how you father is. You shouldn’t act surprised. Daddy and I have been generous with you, too, so I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect you to uphold your end of things. But I also don’t want you to think that we don’t care about the other stuff that’s happening in your life. Who was this person? Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Who he was. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
“Is there anything else going on that you’d like to tell me? Now would be a good time, since your father’s out.”
“You’d keep it from him?”
“Of course I wouldn’t keep it from him, but sometimes it’s better if I’m the one that breaks the news to him.” She looked at me closely. “Why? Is something else happening?”
I shook my head, even as Leo’s words echoed through my mind. If my parents couldn’t even handle the fact that I’d dated someone and it had ended, there was no way I was going to tell them about what Leo had said. And since they’d made it abundantly clear that I had to get my grades up immediately, it seemed more and more like I was going to have to take Leo up on his offer.
Chapter Six
Leo
I was sitting in my office with 10 minutes until feature writing class. I had my laptop open in front of me and was cleaning out my inbox. This time, I did happen to catch the email from Shannon, rescheduling the meeting that had originally been for Friday evening, to today at lunch. I looked at the date. She’d sent it only yesterday. I hit “Reply All” and took the time to type out, in big, rainbow letters: CANT WAIT REALLY LOOKING FORWARD 2 IT. I knew how much the ALL CAPS and the lack of punctuation would irritate not just her, but probably everyone else on the list.
Satisfied, I shut the computer, left the office, and went down the hallway to the classroom. Of course, Tessa wasn’t in feature writing class the day I planned to apologize. That friend of hers, Lindsey, was though, and I could tell that Tessa must’ve said something to her, because Lindsey was following me around the classroom with those fuck-me eyes every time I looked her direction. Kristin seemed to pick up on this, and I caught her shooting looks at Lindsey every so often.
Lindsey lingered after class, packing and repacking her stuff into her bag, just so she would be the last one out. I had a feeling Kristin would have hung around to see what Lindsey wanted to say, but she had another class she had to run off to.
“Everything okay?” I asked, looking at Lindsey. She was wearing a pair of jeans that appeared to be shellacked onto those gazelle legs of hers.
“Everything is fine,” she said. “But I did have a question.”
“Okay—shoot.”
“Well, I know that my grade in this class could be improved.”
“Is that a question?”
“I’d like to do what I can to improve it, and I was wondering if there were any extra credit assignments?”
She held my gaze as she said this, her hand going up to the side of her face to absently push back a strand of highlighted blonde hair. I caught sight of her fingernails, which were perfectly manicured, painted with lavender polish. She had a couple expensive-looking rings on, and when she smiled, it revealed perfectly white, perfectly aligned teeth. Her whole persona screamed good health, good wealth, and used to getting exactly what she wanted. Maybe I was supposed to feel good that this girl was jocking me, but I didn’t; I found it irritating as all hell.
And I wasn’t about to be another in the long line of fools that gave her exactly what she wanted.
“I’m sure we could figure something out,” I said slowly, and her smile deepened.
“Excellent,” she said. “I’d be happy—more than happy—to do whatever it is that you had in mind.”
“Thrilled to hear it. What I’d like to get from you then, is a profile piece that focuses on one of the employees here at the college. Not one of the professors, but someone who works in the cafeteria, or one of the custodians. Fifteen hundred words.”
“Right,” she said, not sounding thrilled. “Okay, sure. I’ll get that to you as soon as I can.”
“Looking forward to it.” We both knew she’d never do it.
I had a little bit of time to kill before the meeting, so I went back to the office. Upon opening my laptop, I saw that several people had replied to my RSVP, dutifully correcting the missed punctuation, a few gently admonishing that there was “no need to shout” but they were “glad I was so excited about it.” I was trying to think up something witty to reply with when I heard someone walk into the room.
It was Tessa.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Quite all right,” I said. I pulled my feet down off the top of the desk. “You weren’t in class earlier.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I overslept and then . . . well . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m glad you stopped by, actually. There was something that I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” she said. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, too. And . . . and . . .” She looked down at the floor. “I’d like to take you up on that extra credit, um, assignment, if it’s still available.”
She said it in a rush, still staring at the ground. I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Did she just say what I think she did?
I looked past her to make sure the office door was closed. “Wait a second,” I said. “Are you telling me you want to be my sex toy?”
Her face reddened, but she finally looked up at me. Our eyes met, and she didn’t look away. “Yes,” she said. “I need to get my GPA back up.”
I smiled. I was about to tell her that while I appreciated her interest in that extra credit “assignment” I had originally offered, I would give her a more traditional assignment, say, write a feature article about a social cause that interested her. I opened my mouth to begin speaking, but she started talking before I could.
“Because if I don’t get my gra
des back up, my parents are going to cut me off. They take my grades very seriously, and I had an agreement with them that I’d maintain a certain GPA. Which I’m not maintaining.”
“What do you mean, they’ll cut you off?”
She looked surprised that I’d ask. “They’re not going to give me money anymore. They’ll stop paying for my apartment, and they might not even continue to pay for school. I don’t have any money of my own, so there’s no way I could even begin to afford any of this. And I’ve only got another year left before I graduate. I can’t let that happen.”
So she was just another spoiled little rich girl, living off her parents. For fuck’s sake, I was surrounded by them. I wanted to launch into a tirade about my own miserable childhood, about a single mother who had to work two jobs, who was never around, about a boy who spent more time at friends’ houses or the after school program, who got free lunch, who never had new clothes, blah, blah, blah. Who paid his own way through school, through a combination of scholarships, grants, student loans, and work-study jobs. That boy who had great disdain for his many classmates who had their whole way paid for them, who only had to focus on studying and partying, who didn’t even realize how good they fucking had it. She was one of them.
I nodded. “I see,” I said. “We certainly wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”
“No,” she said. “My parents were already so upset when I told them about my grades. They’re giving me until next semester. And if I don’t get my grades back up, they’re going to do it. They’re going to cut me off; it’s not just an idle threat.”
