Risking the Crown (The Crown 2)

I refastened the lid and watched in horror as the spill spread from one end of the shuttle to the other. Oh God, this was a disaster.

There was a man at the back of the bus reading his phone. He never looked up or offered to help.

I looked around for something I could use.

“Excuse me.” I walked to the driver. “Do you have any paper towels or anything? I spilled some coffee. I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t cross the red line,” he snapped.

“Oh, sorry.” I shrank back over the mark on the floor, watching the coffee dry on the tips of my heels. “Do you have something I could use? It was an accident.”

“We’re about to stop on campus. Hold on.” He seemed aggravated. I couldn’t tell if it was from the spill or because I had bothered him while he was driving.

I sat in the seat closest to him, waiting for him to hand me something, anything I could use.

The shuttle came to an abrupt halt. I looked out of the window and saw students walking across campus. Without turning around the driver handed a roll of paper towels to me over his right shoulder.

“I gotta keep a schedule,” he smacked.

“It will only take a second,” I explained.

The other passenger jogged down the stairs and walked off.

My fitted dress made it hard to kneel to the floor. I did the best I could, running the paper towels over the aisle with my foot.

I gathered up the trash and tossed it in the wastebasket by the door.

“Thank you. Sorry about the spill.” I carefully stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Maybe next time don’t bring your coffee on here.” He nodded at me before closing the door in my face.

By the time I found the conference room, there was standing-room only. Holy hell. I wasn’t expecting it to be packed. Or to be in a room with this many other Practioners-in-Residence. There had to be twenty-five of us packed into a room meant for a meeting of ten people. My stomach sank. Until now, I had no idea the pool of competition would be this large.

I was wedged between a girl in a navy blazer and the wall. I smiled weakly at her as I tried to retrieve a notepad from my bag. My elbow banged into the chair railing.

“Can you see?” she asked.

She was extremely tall. I looked down and noticed she had on flats.

“I’m fine.” As long as I had room to scribble notes, I could handle it. That and as long as my feet didn’t give out. It was possible they had lost feeling.

The mumbling stopped as soon as one of the program directors closed the door, sealing us in the claustrophobic space. I tried to take a slow steady breath.

“Good morning. Glad to see so many faces here today.”

He took his time to make eye contact with each of us. I recognized him as one of the people from my interview panel three months ago. His goatee was peppered and he had a long drawn face.

“Some of you are here to practice law. Some of you are here to learn how to teach law.” He cleared his throat. “Some of you are here to do some good for those under-served in our community. Me? I’m here for all of that. I’m the director. If we haven’t met, I’m Max Harrison. This is my twentieth year in the Clinical Program. I oversee all ten clinics. I pick up clients when I can and I also teach a history of law class twice a week. So, I don’t have a lot of free time.” He chuckled.

I shuffled to the right, trying to see past the girl in front of me.

“You should all have your clinic assignments. There are ten clinics, but this year we only had open slots in Taxation, Immigrant Justice, Intellectual Law, International Human Rights, and Women and Law. We did our best to sort you based on experience and personal requests, but it may not have worked out for everyone.

“The positions are for one year. All of this was covered in your interview process, but now that you’re here I want to remind you—you aren’t faculty and you aren’t staff. You are here as a resident of this program. At the end of the year there will be an opportunity to apply for a faculty position, but you can see the competition is going to be fierce.”

This was the part where everyone wanted to size up the person next to them. The tall girl

blocked my view from most of the cohorts in the program. I kept my back against the wall and my head down.