Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1) (13 page)

By the time I’m three weeks out from taking my GRE, I’m wound tighter than a drum. Shane is reassuring and that helps, and my girls have been trying to settle me down as well, but I’ll feel better once I know my results.

Or maybe worse.

I’m lying on the floor of our apartment, going over my statement of purpose one last time with Chloe. She’s good with words, so she’s the go-to editor for all of us. Ashley’s off practicing the piano and won’t be back for a couple more hours, probably. Jack is sitting on the couch working on his laptop and snacking on popcorn. Sam’s feet are in his lap, tucked between his laptop and his stomach, and she’s working on a reading assignment.

My phone dings.

Apollo:
How’s your statement coming along?

Me:
It would be better if Chloe would just write it for me.

Chloe looks over at my phone and I tilt it so she can read it better. She smiles. “No.”

Apollo:
Maybe you should bribe her. Isn’t she a chocolate fan?

Chloe reads this text as well. “Is that really ethical?”

Me:
Chloe thinks you’re being unethical.

“Tell him he should know better,” she adds.

“Who?” Jack asks, craning his head as if to read my phone from there.

“Never mind, nosey,” I say lightly, but I turn my phone over.

Jack makes a face at me, tosses a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth, and runs a finger up the underside of Sam’s foot.

She jerks her foot away. “Jack!”

He smiles and goes back to his laptop. She rolls her eyes, replaces her feet in his lap, and goes back to her reading.

My phone dings again.

I go to check it but Chloe puts her hand over mine, stopping me. “Chat with him when we’re done. Brad’s picking me up in five minutes.”

“We mustn’t be late for Brad,” Sam mumbles. She thinks Brad is too uptight. So do I, for that matter, but Chloe’s happy and that’s what counts, I guess.

“Chat with who?” Jack asks, grinning down at my phone.

“A friend,” I say.

“Uh huh.” Still grinning at Chloe and I, he reaches over and tickles Sam on the stomach.

She swats his hand away. “Cut it out, you brat,” she says.

He laughs and closes his laptop, getting up from the couch.

“Hey!” she says. “Bring back my foot rest.”

“Class time, Shorty,” he says, extending a hand to her.

“Uuuuugh!” she says dramatically, but she takes his hand and he drags her up.

“Okay,” Chloe says, ignoring them and putting down her pen. “Finished. There were just a few little things.”

My phone dings again, but I take the paper so we can discuss Chloe’s changes and suggestions. We’re about done when we hear Brad’s honk at the curb and Chloe jumps up. “Thanks, Chloe,” I call after her as she waves and darts out the door.

Sam and Jack aren’t far behind. I pick up my phone and see I have two texts, but only one of them’s from Shane.

The front door closes and I’m left alone to read them.

I read the one from Shane, then the one from my dad. It says simply:
Call your mother.

I could’ve called right away. I could have. But my father doesn’t send texts like that, ever, and I have this weird feeling about it. It takes walking halfway across campus before I’m ready to find out what’s going on.

I’m crossing the quad, heading for Old Main, when I finally call. It rings so long I think it’s going to go to voicemail, but Mom picks up at the last moment.

“Hi sweetie,” she says cheerfully, almost sounding normal.

“Hi Mom. Everything okay?”

“Of course. Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

I already know she’s lying. She’s a rotten liar.

“Dad told me to call you.”

The silence on the other end of the line stretches out and I come to a stop. “Mom?”

“He really shouldn’t have. I don’t see any reason to worry you.”

“Worry me about what?” My skin is starting to prick.

“Well... I’ve been having some bleeding.”

I grip the phone with both hands, trying to steady myself. “Is the cancer back?” I ask.

It can’t be. She had a full hysterectomy last time. If the cancer’s back, what’s left to cut out of her?

“Now, we don’t know that,” she says. “It could be something else.”

“Like what?”

There’s another pause. I close my eyes and put my hand on my forehead.

“Well,” Mom says, “they’re doing some tests. It could be just a kidney infection. We’ll just see what they find out, okay? Let’s don’t worry until then.”

“Right,” I say, as calmly as I can, for her sake. “Of course, Mom. I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“I don’t want you to worry, sweetheart. You have enough on your plate.”

“Nothing as important as you. But I won’t worry.” I hope I’m a better liar than she is. “It’ll be okay, Mom.”

“That’s my girl. Have you heard about your score yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

I feel lightheaded. I need to get off the phone.

“I have class, Mom. Can I call you later?”

“If you want to. I’ll keep you posted either way though, alright?”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, rubbing my forehead again. “I love you, Mom. So much.”

“I love you, too. Bye honey.”

The call disconnects and I stand there for a moment, staring at my phone.

I see a notification for new emails. I open the program automatically, not really thinking about it. I’ve been compulsively checking my emails ever since I took the test three weeks ago. The conversation with my mother is still buzzing in my head when I see the email I’ve been waiting for. My score is ready.

I know I should probably wait to check it. If it’s bad news, I don’t need that on top of worrying about my mom. But of course I log in to MyGRE and check it anyway.

I don’t know if it’s bad news or not. My score isn’t exactly horrible, but I don’t know that it’s enough to impress Harvard either. It’s not at all what I was hoping for.
Fuck.

I’m a little early for philosophy class and should just go to the classroom and wait, but between my score and my mom, I’m barely containing my panic. I need Shane. I should just text him, I know that, but instead I find myself knocking hopefully on his office door.

He opens the door, sees the look on my face, and brings me in, shutting the door behind us.

Before he even asks I start to tell him about my dad’s text and the feeling I had that it would be bad news. Before I can finish though, there’s a knock.

I stop and he looks at me with concern, glancing at the door.

I’m too upset to worry that I’m in here with him. We’re not doing anything and I am his student after all. For all anyone knows, I have a perfectly legitimate reason for being here.

I gesture to the door impatiently, indicating he should answer it.

He opens the door to a student, who asks if he can talk to him before class.

“Actually, right now isn’t a good—”

Another student comes up, clearly needing to talk to Shane as well.

Fuck it.

“Go ahead,” I say, leaving. “I was done anyway.”

I’m two doors down from his office when fucking Justin Kirby comes around the corner and damn near runs into me. We both halt and he gives me a cold smile.

“Oh, for god’s sake.” I mutter.

“Oh, look who it is,” he says cruelly, “the little drunk.”

Not feeling up for this right now, I glance back toward Shane’s office. The students who needed to talk to him must have gone in the room because the hall is empty.

Justin Kirby must smell my weakness for he does something he’s never done before. He moves toward me, trying to cage me in.

“Let me pass,” I say.

“Who says I’m stopping you?” He edges closer to me.

“I’ll scream,” I say, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Hoping your professor will come to your rescue?”

I look at him in alarm. Why did he say that? Does he know something? Or maybe he meant just that, my professor. Shane certainly is that, too.

I push past him and he steps aside, his low laughter trailing after me.

I go to class and sit at the back, distracted and not really paying attention even once class begins. Shane is going around the room, handing back our papers.

As per our fucking
rules,
I don’t even look at him.

I do look at the grade on my paper though. A 70? What the fucking hell?

Then I remember. He’s made it clear in class more than once that he docks a letter grade from our assignments each day they’re late, and I was two days late on this. I’d gotten behind, once again, and gave my prime remaining homework time to the classes in my major.

I shove the paper in my bag, not knowing if I’m more irritated with Shane or myself.

I text my mom:
What kind of tests are they doing?

Someone hands me a stack of papers. I frown at it. What the hell is this? Then I see the heading at the top.

Fuck. I forgot we had a quiz today.

I take the top sheet and pass the stack along.

I start the quiz but tuck my phone on my lap. I would normally put it away but right now I just don’t care. Let him speak up and take it away from me if he doesn’t like it.

My phone vibrates and I look at it, keeping it in my lap.

Mom:
An ultrasound and blood tests.

Me:
When?

I look back to the paper in front of me and read the first question. I literally have no idea what I just read.

My phone vibrates.

Mom:
I get my blood drawn this morning and go in for the ultra sound next week. I thought you had class.

Me:
When will you get the results?

I return to the quiz and read the first question again. And again. What in the hell am I reading??

My phone vibrates.

Apollo:
Are you okay?

I glance up and see him sitting behind his desk, watching me.

I look back down. If I look at him now I’ll cry.

Me:
No.

Apollo:
Come to my office after class.

Mom gives me the date of an appointment with her oncologist; she’ll know what’s what then.

Stop worrying.
She says.
I know you’re supposed to be in class.

I sigh and put my phone back in my bag, determined to at least get
something
done on my quiz. I manage to pull it together enough to answer the questions, but I have no idea how I did. At this particular moment in time, I don’t give a rat’s ass.

Shane beats me to his office, but I’m not the only student wanting to see him. A girl has a question about her paper. While I’m waiting for her to stop whining and flirting with my boyfriend, I send my dad a text.

Me:
How bad is this? Mom says it’s no big deal, but you know mom.

Dad:
We really don’t know. There are a couple of other things it could be. But it’s concerning. I thought you should know.

Concerning. Sure. That’s the word.

I text back,
Thanks,
and Little Miss Flirt finally leaves.

Shane checks the hall before closing the door.

“Let’s keep our voices down,” he says coming to me with a concerned expression. “If someone else knocks, we’ll ignore it. What’s going on with your mom? Is she okay?”

Finally alone with him I let it all out in a rush. I tell him about my mom first, but then it’s like I can’t stop. I tell him about my GRE score. “And Harvard already has the score so it’s a done deal. I’m completely freaking out. And then I got a 70 on your stupid paper and who knows what that’s going to do to my grade.”

“You’re still at an A. I checked. Right on the line but you’re there. I couldn’t make an exception...”

“I’m not asking you to!”

He blinks at me. “I just thought... I shouldn’t be making exceptions for you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

I sigh impatiently. “You’re right. It’s fine. It’s just that this isn’t my only class. I’m barely hanging on to an A in biochemistry, but I’m getting B’s in my other classes. B’s!”

I’ve been aceing my classes for three years, was on track for summa cum laude, and now I’m about to screw it all up at the eleventh hour. What the hell am I doing to myself?

“Aside from blowing my summa cum laude out of the water, this semester’s going to be on the transcript going to Harvard.”

“Sweetheart,” he puts his hands on my arms, but I’m too upset to be comforted.

I put my hands over my face.
What about my mom?