Deviation

I click over and take the call. “Hello. This is Jack.”

“Ah, Jack. My favorite student and, likely, my most successful,” the gravelly voice says to me and, immediately smiling, I recognize my old professor. Just when I thought my life was going in a bad direction, he helped to pull me back on target. I owed this man a considerable amount of my success.

“Dean Andrews! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” I leaned back in my chair, eager to catch up with the man who is more supportive and influential to me than my own father.

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time, Jack,” he says.

“Oh no. I already feel horrible. I told Beth I would be unable to teach the Calculus course next semester due to my travel responsibilities coming up. I just heard about Dr. Roth’s poor health. How is the crusty bastard?” I ask, listening to him chuckle.

“Indeed. His surgery is scheduled for a week from now, so he’s taking a leave of absence for the rest of the semester.” Dr. Roth had been a real hard ass in my time at the university, often failing good students and pushing those of us slackers beyond our comfort zones. It was his way of teaching us life lessons through those dreaded blue book quizzes each week on our knowledge base or some bullshit I was sure he made up.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Although I wasn’t surprised, considering his behavior of drinking and eating to excess outside of the classroom, along with who knows what else was rumored about the cranky bachelor math professor.

“It’s actually partly why I’m calling.” Dean Andrews pauses.

“Oh, really?” My curiosity is peaked.

“Yes. You see, I was hoping you might possibly be able to fill in for one of his classes for which I can’t seem to find a timely replacement. He was teaching four classes, and this block is one of the hardest to fill. It really fowls things up for the students eager to complete this required course.” I tap my pen on the desk and flip my smart phone over to look at my calendar, which Tom updates for me daily.

“Which class would that be? I’d love to help if I can.” I flip through apps and hover over my social media account that I keep just for family and close friends. I’m more interested in how faulty its algorithms are than anything else. I click on my calendar instead and check my current availability.

“Well, it’s the Tuesday/Thursday module of Statistics. I can’t get anyone to take it, and the TA simply doesn’t have enough experience to do it for the rest of the semester. I can just imagine the parents calling in an uproar.”

“Alright. I’ll have Tom rework a few of my meetings. I’ve always loved the Stat course.”

“Really? Excellent! I’ll have Beth email you the syllabus. See you Thursday on campus then? We can discuss the transition after class and make sure the students are on par for the exam.”

“Great. We’ll have lunch after class. See you then.” I hang up and lean over my desk. I miss the university environment. Teaching had always been fun for me before I almost ruined it for myself, and that made me think of her… No sense in reliving the past. I figure the college classes are much safer than my student teaching days.

Chapter Two

Edith

“Ugh. Is it really Thursday already?” I whine, sitting on the lounge chair in one of the study alcoves with Aiden and Shelby. My voice is muffled from the book I left open over my face, using it as a mask.

“Yeah, it is.” Shelby closes her makeup compact and stands up in front of me. From under my book, I can see her neon pink TOMs shoes and her curvy jean-clad legs.

“What?” I remove the book from my face and, half-sitting up from the chair, I look at my two closest friends. I keep the closed book mashed up against my head, praying the formulas and numbered equations stay put in there today.

“I’ve told you osmosis doesn’t work, Edie.” Aiden laughs, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses and going back to his own book, highlighting bones and muscles in his biology tome.

“Edie, when was the last time you ate something other than those gross ramen noodles and watered-down orange juice?” Shelby keeps looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Awe, Shelby, are we really going to have this conversation again? Ramen is a nutritious staple food to the transitional college diet.” I push my statistics book to the floor and pull the elastic band from my hair, attempting to pull it up into a simple ponytail before Shelby stabs me with her eyes.

“Yes, we are. Sit in front of me.” Shelby takes a brush from her bag and brushes out my hair, fixing it into some intricate braid that is likely to fall out the minute I leave her presence.

“Are you still going to the clinic next week?” Aiden asks me with a pointed look.

“Of course I am. Oww.” Shelby pulls a lock of my hair tight, making me sit straight as she rhythmically weaves locks of hair in and out. She has a way with hair and, depending on her moodiness, can either lull me to sleep or scalp me bald.

“So how about we go for burgers after class then? You can meet us at the Grease Lounge by the bus stop.” Aiden shuts his own book and tosses things into his leather messenger bag that I envy. My own bag has been sewn back together several times since my freshman year of high school. It’s one of the few things I have from my grandmother who encouraged me to stay in school. I used patches of whatever fabric I had to keep the damn thing together. If I had the money, I would have bought a new pretty brown leather bag. I figure if it’s lasted this long, it must be a sign from my grandmother to keep going.

“Edie?” Aiden asks again and I drag myself back to the conversation. Shelby is quiet and focused on braiding my hair, gently pulling and weaving, lulling me.

“Um, okay. I’m sure I could use the protein before I donate to the vampires, earning me my big twenty dollar gift card.” I hear both Shelby and Aiden snort in their cutesy couple language that just screams they don’t approve of my money-grubbing habits. Luckily for them, they will never know what that is like. Neither of them have to worry about making it on their own and hording an emergency account of money just in case my scholarship money is late or discontinued each semester.

“Okay, I’m all done. Tie?”