The Beautiful Game

Chapter Seventeen - Lou

     "Unless you've already arranged your eight week placement Miss Richards, I would suggest paying attention."

     My surname cuts through the fog in my brain and I jolt in my seat, dropping my phone and clanging my knees together in shock; I recognise it as my chemistry professor's nasally tone. Low tittering laughter breaks out amongst the other students as they behold the deer in the headlights expression as I open-mouth gawp at ill-tempered Professor Marsh. Her wasp-like face scowling back at me.

     "Sorry." I splutter, my face undoubtedly crimson.

     "Nice to have you back in the room. So, as I was saying, you have a couple of weeks left to hand in the applications for your hospital placements. I understand it's far too early in your careers to know where you would like to specialise, however think of those weeks of placement as the very first steps. Some of you will flourish." Her glasses slip down the bridge of her long pointed nose as she looks at the students around the room. "Some of you may rethink your future studies. It's an opportunity to find out. An opportunity that you're lucky to have." Marsh looks up to where I'm sitting, I flick my eyes down to my notepad, thankful I haven't turned to stone from her glare.

     Professor Marsh had been one of the staff who hadn't taken too kindly to my absence in sophomore year; her dislike of me and my dislike of chemistry were one and the same. The hours suffering in this class were definitely not worth the credit.

     I haven't dared pick my phone up from the carpet beneath me, screen still lit; it was practically mocking me.

    That damn message. I don't know why I kept staring at it, the bold font, the time it had been sent, still unopened from a week ago. Every time I looked at it, I cringed. It served as a reminder for my verbal diarrhoea last Friday night. One word. That's all.

Friday 01:44am - carterhughes01 - How?

    How what? How is the sky blue? How come chickens can't fly? Or how could I have been so unforgivingly stupid to blabber to Carter fucking Hughes that I'm still a virgin?

   If Ella and Kate had noticed, they didn't question my silence on the journey home. They'd probably just assumed my social battery had run out and were used to it. The entire drive back to our apartment I'd just been shell-shocked.

   Why had I said that? I couldn't even blame it on drunken stupor, I'd had one pint of watery beer. Carter just had a way of getting under my skin.

    "Application forms are on my desk for those of you that haven't taken one yet, have them handed in by the end of next week."

    Mumblings breakout through the hall as students start closing their laptops and packing away their books as Professor Marsh logs off and indicates the end of the session. Gingerly, I bend down to grab my bag and pick up my phone, careful not to open the message from Carter, not quite ready for him to know I've seen it, even if it is days later.

    The lecture hall has now almost emptied completely, only a couple of stragglers make quiet conversation in the aisle as they wait for one of their friend's to finish packing up her stuff.

    "Miss Richards, a moment?" Professor Marsh's voice slithers up the stairs toward me, I gulp before approaching her.

    "I thought I would hand you the application in person." The paper application form makes a quiet smack as she puts it into my hand, with unnecessary force. "As I know how your concentration can waver."

   Professor Marsh was quite clearly of the opinion that I didn't deserve to be here, at Michigan University, in her extra credit chemistry class; I think it even caused her physical pain to have to grade my assignments, my name was like stubborn grease stain on her register. I hadn't received any positive feedback in the entirety of being in her class, it was only ever negative, more destructive than constructive criticism.