Page 3 of Scarred King
“Good luck,” Johanna smiles at me, unable to conceal the tension in her pretty light blue eyes.
“You too,” I smile back, and we head inside the office.
I look around curiously. The small space is cluttered with files stacked in two matching piles and hundreds of books and notebooks are arranged on the bookcase by subjects. There are two other students from our study group who are sitting on the worn-out leather sofa. I peek at the clock on the wall. My interview at the bar should start at seven. I haven’t changed out of my clothes yet and I have no idea how long this meeting is going to take.
We sit next to the two boys who have glasses on, and the four of us stand up as soon as Professor Sawyer enters the room. He blurts out an apology for being late and we all look at him adoringly.
“I’ll make this brief,” he smiles bashfully, and I can’t understand how a person in his position could possibly be embarrassed by four students that their only dream is the rare opportunity he has to offer.
He sits on the edge of his desk and looks at us. “As you already know, this year, I've decided for the first time, to offer one sophomore the opportunity to join me in a new research project. Up until now I’ve always picked three junior students, but in light of the tremendous talents I have here before me, I’ve decided to make an exception.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at us and stands up. “You're all very talented, extraordinarily intelligent and crave this opportunity, but I can only pick one of you, and I’m choosing Elena.” He looks at me with a big smile on his face and I choke down a squeal of joy. “You’ll all have a chance to try again next year,” he says, still smiling at me.
“Congratulations.” I hear one female voice and two male ones at my side. I mumble my thanks and a minute later the door behind me opens and the three of them leave the room.
“Don’t look so grateful,” Professor Sawyer laughs as I stand rooted to my place without moving.
“I…yes…I…” I'm all choked up, my words can't find their way out of my mouth and he approaches me, making my heart miss a beat.
“I’m just kidding with you,” he says pleasantly, “Even I can do that sometimes.” He is standing very close to me, the only thing that calms me down is reciting the new formula that he wrote on the whiteboard today.
“I’ll have our meeting schedule emailed to you.” He steps away and I stop reciting the formula. “Twice a week, during class hours. It won’t be easy with your demanding schedule, but you’ll have to find the time to make up everything you'll miss.”
“Of course,” I answer quickly and peek at my watch again. Ten minutes to seven.
“Are you late for class?” he looks up at the clock on the wall.
“No, I have a job interview.” I run my hands over my hair.
“I thought you didn’t work.” He has a questioning look in his eyes. “Could that impact our project hours? You should tell me now…”
“Absolutely not!” I answer emphatically. “Nothing is more exciting than your research project. I’m so grateful and I won’t let you down.”
“I have no doubt,” he smiles his bashful smile again, and I have to stop myself from jumping on him in a hug of gratitude. “Well, good luck with your interview,” he walks over to stand behind his desk and I nod and run out the room.
“Damn it!” I curse again and again as I rush off campus. Instead of going back to my apartment and celebrating with Johanna, I have to go and persuade that obnoxious girl to hire me for my dream job as a waitress. Even if I miraculously get this job, who can guarantee that it will be enough to pay my tuition? How much can you make as a waitress? And how will I be able to cope with my crazy schedule and the research project? OK, I’ll deal with things as they come, I tell myself and hail a cab. The facts are pretty simple. If I don’t get a job, I won’t have any money. And if I don’t have any money, I won’t be able to continue school. And I refuse to accept that.
“I’m running late. Please drive fast,” I say to the cab driver after I give him the address.
“You sure that’s where you want to go?” he looks at me surprised in the rear-view mirror.
“Yes,” I huff impatiently.
“Not such a safe place for a girl like you. And at night too…” He looks at me again.
I ignore his concerned remarks. “I’m late for a job interview. Please drive faster.”
His eyes widen in astonishment. “You? A job interview there?”
“Yes. Me. A job interview. There. So step on it.”
“OK,” he shrugs. “I'll travel at the speed of light,” he laughs and starts driving off campus.
“You know you really can’t travel at the speed of light,” I can’t help myself. “Light is the fastest thing in the universe. A ray of light can circumnavigate earth about seven times in one second.”
“Now I know for sure that you shouldn’t be going to that place,” he tells me.
“I don’t have a choice,” I grumble, “I have to pay my tuition.”
“It’s a shame to see girls like you in these situations,” he says sadly.