Bloom // WandaNat Florist AU

Orchid

"Shit, shit, shit," Wanda muttered as she practically sprinted into her building, beelining for the chemistry lecture hall. Confused staff and students stared at the frantic woman, a blur of red flannel and khaki. "Unbelievable, Maximoff."

She glanced at her phone again. Only ten minutes late. Surely, that could not count as an absence, though Professor Hart would not be pleased with the tardiness. Stopping at the flower shop seemed so foolish now. Wanda should have just walked to class early- maybe gotten a coffee on campus, maybe tried to socialize. Instead, she had a wonderful time eating a home cooked meal and laughing with two people who were quickly becoming friends, and okay, maybe the stop was not that foolish. Still, though, she mentally kicked herself for not paying more attention, for being so forgetful, for being so-

"Miss Maximoff, glad you finally showed up," Professor Hart grumbled as Wanda attempted to sneak in the side door of the vast lecture hall. The attention brought the searing eyes of her classmates who probably assumed she dropped out altogether, and Wanda could only muster an apologetic smile and a small wave before slinking through the back row to her seat.

Her seat.

She stopped short. This, out of all things, she had not prepared for. Two wooden seats, side by side, both empty. She took a long, shuddering breath. It had been two months. She was ready for this, right? Tugging her backpack off slowly, she lowered herself rigidly into the chair, muscles tense, brows furrowed. The chair was cold and unfamiliar, unmoving and stiff. Her world was so strange now; everything that had once made sense did not anymore, not even simple things.

Wanda did not even bother opening her backpack or taking notes for the remainder of the lecture- all she could focus on was the chair. Professor Hart's voice faded into the background as it had in his office, and she remembered why she avoided campus for two months. How was she going to do this every day until the end of the semester?

Eventually, mercifully, Wanda heard the Professor's "well, that's all for now, see you tomorrow," and bolted from her chair toward the exit, not giving the Professor or anyone else time to stop and ask about her whereabouts or wellbeing. Another reason Wanda steered clear of campus- the forced sympathy of her classmates. People often do not know what to say or how to comfort the grieving, and Wanda honestly preferred they not attempt to do so at all. If she had to endure another 'sorry for your loss' accompanying knit together brows and a soft hand on her arm, she just might scream.

Though she successfully dodged her dozens of classmates and one haughty professor, Wanda failed at evading the cheerful smile and plucky wave of one Agnes Hardaway, Wanda's academic advisor.

"Oh, Wanda, dear!" Mrs. Hardaway called, causing Wanda to spin on her heels and meet the woman face to face, plastering on a forced smile. "It is just wonderful to see your face, how are you?"

"I'm, um," Wanda struggled to find words, the morning overwhelming her muddled brain. "Okay."

"So great to hear, honey. We've been real worried about you- haven't seen you since the funeral!"

"Yeah..."

"Really, though, you're doing okay?" Mrs. Hardaway pulled Wanda over to a quieter corner of the main corridor, arms crossed and voice quiet. "Professor Hart said he hadn't seen you in months."

"Yeah, well, the grievance policy here is shit. I took some more time."

"Good on you, dear, really. School shouldn't be your focus right now anyway."

"It's not."

"Well, I wouldn't want to stress you out, Wanda, but we do need to talk about your spring schedule. How exciting though, you'll be graduating!"

Wanda sighed deeply. "Exciting."

"So, when can you come by?"

"Can we just do it now?"

"Sure, dear, come on down to my office."

The pair turned for the east wing of the building, a long hallway of mainly administrative offices. The walk was agonizingly slow to Wanda; she felt observed by everyone she passed, like the prodigal son finally on his way home.

"You just take a seat right there," Mrs. Hardaway said upon opening her office door. This office contrasted the smell of tweed and arrogance floating about Professor Hart's, with a surprisingly soothing lavender aroma floating about. This inadvertently took Wanda back to the flower shop for a moment, and she could not fight a small smile. The advisor typed rapidly on her desktop, asking Wanda about her spring semester plans.

"Don't really have any," she responded, taking a seat across from the older woman.

"You only need 16 more credits to graduate, assuming you pass all your classes this semester, so you'll be taking," she scrolled, eyes squinting, "art history, ecology, an elective, and senior seminar."

"Sounds great."

Wanda made a move to stand, but was quickly shut down by Mrs. Hardaway saying, "but, Wanda, we do need to discuss your financial aid."

This drew Wanda's attention, eyes darting to meet the older woman's. "What about it?"

"Well, if you do fail a class this semester, which you are dangerously close to doing in all three of your courses, then your GPA would drop below the threshold for your academic scholarships."

"I-what? One bad semester and you're thrown to the curb? I've gotten straight A's for three years!"

"I know, it's not fair. The system isn't kind to those who fall behind."

No, it's not, Wanda thought, sitting back with a bitter laugh. The last few months felt like repeated gut punches, one after the other. She had no time to gather herself, to stand and try to fight back. Instead, she was kicked while she was down, and then kicked again.

"Look," Mrs. Hardaway continued softly. "I'll see what I can do about your financial aid. Maybe apply for some more leadership scholarships, or write some letters to donors. In the meantime, just try to get your grades up. I know it's hard, but it's not too late. Professor Hart may seem tough, but he does care. He wants you to do well, dear. We all do."

Biting back a scathing response, Wanda stood with a curt 'thank you', before exiting the office and the lecture hall for the day. She checked her phone again. If she rushed, she could make it to her history class. At least history never changed.