Loving Kinnick (Rewritten)

Stand Back Up And Conquer Your Challenges

The one class I have been dreading more than anything - ethics. I stared at the pale wooden door, looking into the classroom with worry. Here, in the room before me, I would learn the theory of right and wrong.

My professor is supposed to help strengthen my intuition. How could someone so indecisive choose one side? I struggled with my purpose as a prosecutor. What if I have a person step in front of me, and I don't believe they have done anything wrong? I read countless stories of survivors who lost their self-worth telling their stories in front of courtrooms that deemed them as liars. It made me want to fight.

I looked for my best friend in the occupied seats to not find her. She told me we had ethics together, yet I didn't see her. It made me think she found Tyler before she could attend. When my hands started shaking, I sucked in a few breaths, trying to convince myself to go inside.

My phone sat in my hands as I texted Chrissy over and over, asking her where she was. I didn't get a response. It didn't take long for the hallways to clear, and soon I was alone. I slid down the wall, hoping to steady my breathing enough to function, but my throat began to close. Tears were welling in my eyes as I clutched my chest.

"The most common way people give up their power is by believing they don't have any."

I could hear high heels clicking on the ground. "Don't let your anxiety think you have no power."

Her curly hair was the first thing to catch my eye. Then it was the kindness that gleamed in her eyes. It was as if she was telling me I could conquer this feeling without saying a word. She stayed knelt in front of me until I caught ahold of my breath.

"Good," a large smile spread across her lips. "Please, tell me you are in my class."

I nodded, taking her hand as he helped me stand to my feet. "I am."

"Good," her plump lips spread into a smile on her face. "I am Professor Roberts, and you are?"

"Boston Bennett."

"Mhm," she adjusted her suit. "What is your major?"

"Law," I mumbled. "I want to be a prosecutor."

"You are going to make one hell of a prosecutor, Boston Bennett."

My eyebrows knitted together. "I was thinking quite the opposite."

"Hm," she hummed. "Come in, let me change your mind."

I followed her into the classroom, taking a seat in front of her as she walked to the chalkboard. Her heels clicked, and she didn't need to say a word to grab every single student's attention. She scribbled across the board with perfect cursive. After setting down the chalk, she clapped her hands free of the powdery substance.

"I am sure you can read," she stepped away, pointing to the board. "But quite honestly, I don't care if you call me Jane tomorrow or Mary the next. If you remember anything, know that a bad semester or a failing grade won't define your future. But, everything you do now will affect it. When you leave me in fifteen-weeks, I don't want you to look back and wonder if you could have done better."

She started writing a question below her name. "Many people aspire to have your dream job. What makes you different than those who already possess the job? If we have a thousand reporters in the world, why do we need another?"

"Your first essay," she turned to the class. "I don't care how well you can write or if half of your words are spelled wrong. As long as you can answer the question, I will allow any of it. The due date is in a week. Good luck."

The people around me had their laptops pulled out. Most of them were already typing away. Either they were confident people or cocky. I didn't know the answer to the question on the board. I didn't even know how to begin answering it.