Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I bomb every time. It’s like there’s some kind of mental wall that slams down and prevents me from going any further along this journey. It’s as though I’m doomed to remain as this nothingness I’ve become, no matter how hard I work to claw my way out.
This is my only hope to save myself. I have no choice but to pass this class. Giving up and returning home isn’t an option. I’m in this for the long haul.
The class ends, and I watch as the students around me begin packing up. There are a million of them, and it seems to take forever before they’ve cleared out enough to offer me some sort of privacy to talk with the professor.
Getting up from my small space in the amphitheater, I make my way down to the professor, my whole body shaking with nerves. I clutch my bag tightly, each step bringing me closer and closer to doom.
By the time I reach the bottom step, the room is completely cleared out, and as I somehow manage to hold my composure, I approach his desk. “Excuse me, Professor,” I say, inching toward him. “My name is Raleigh Stone. I emailed you last week in regard to the recent exam. I was wondering if you—”
“Had the chance to review your work?” he finishes for me, not looking very pleased to see me standing here as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Yes, Miss Stone, I have, and let me tell you, I am not impressed.”
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry?” I mutter, not having expected him to be quite so bold.
“I have been considering your request all week, and I am honestly dumbfounded,” he says. “Where on this green Earth do you get off thinking it’s acceptable to request a re-do of an exam? You are one of three hundred students, and I don’t know if it’s because you believe you are superior to the other students taking my course who are actually putting in the work, but in no way, shape, or form, would it be fair for me to allow you to re-take this exam. It was designed to test your current knowledge and understanding of the course work, and a re-do would be nothing but a slap in the face to those who are actually putting in the effort to pass this course.”
“I . . . that’s not at all what—”
“Being the sister of a rockstar does not give you advantages. This isn’t high school. This is the real world, Miss Stone, and unfortunately, it’s time for you to adjust your expectations. You won’t sail through riding on the coattails of your brother’s success. If you wish to succeed, put the effort in just like everyone else.”
“With all due respect, Sir. You are making an unfair assumption about me,” I tell him. “It was not my intention to suggest I get advantages over the other students. I’ve worked hard to ensure that doesn’t happen, and I see now how foolish it was to ask for a re-do of an exam. I didn’t look at it in that light. However, I don’t believe it’s an unfair request for extra credit. I’m sure if you look back, you will see that I am a good student. I work hard, and I believe I have a fair understanding of your course. I really want to pass this class, Sir. I need to pass.”
The professor sits back in his seat, his gaze locked on me as the silence in the room becomes unbearable. “Okay, Miss Stone,” he finally says. “I will allow you one final chance to prove that you belong here. Let me down, and you’ll leave me with no choice but to fail you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” I say with a heavy sigh of relief. “I won’t let you down.”
“See that you don’t.”
I scram, all but racing out of there before he gets a chance to change his mind. It wasn’t exactly how I imagined that conversation to go, and I’m not going to lie, the assumption that I would try to use my brother’s fame as a free ride through college is offensive. But what matters is that he’s willing to give me a chance.
All hope has not been lost.
Assuming the professor will email my extra credit work, I make my way back home after quickly stopping for a late lunch.
It’s been a day, and after being blindsided by the pictures splashed all over social media of Demon’s Curse partying it up in Sydney after wrapping the Australian leg of the tour, I’m so ready to call it a day. It’s bad enough seeing pictures of your brother snorting coke off a hooker’s tits, but to see just how fucked up Devil Spawn was . . . Well, those are the pictures that always kill me.