Ketterdam University

{four}

            Jesper tapped his pen on the wooden table, the rapid tick tick tick noise giving him some sort of twisted stability, the only stability he had in his life right at this moment. An empty sheet of paper sat before him, and he felt the crushing weight of the deadline leaning on his head. The ticking got faster.

"Jesper," Inej said softly. She sat across from him, leaning over her notebook, rhythmically writing down words like it was easy, like pouring water.

The pen lifted from the table, and he tucked it behind his ear. "Sorry," he said. Inej had the patience of the gods, but even Jesper's restlessness distracted her.

They returned to their previous silence, only this time, the rushing in Jesper's ears was even louder than before. Six thousand words. Six thousand words. By next week. How was he supposed to do this?

"You should've done it two weeks ago when Professor Upton told you to," Nina scolded him the day before.

"You know I never do that," Jesper told her.

"Well, where has that gotten you, big guy?"

He was a fool. A downright fool. Why did he always do this to himself – always depending on fate and pressure to get his work done for him? It only gave him more stress, more panic, and more chances of absolute demise. It was like he enjoyed watching his life teetering on the edge of failure, inching it further and further, and watching in mock horror as it falls down, and dashes itself on the jagged rocks. Well now, how could that happen? What a surprise. Maybe it was because it was like gambling. Spinning a wheel, hoping to God it falls on the right slot, and back in his mind, a little voice whispering, "But what would happen if you lose? Now that would be interesting." Because losing meant he had an excuse to try again. Taking the risk. Taking chances he didn't need.

He did that with everything, really. Work – because what would happen if I didn't go to work today? Would they fire me, or would they let me off the hook? Spin, spin, spin – school – if it's a few days late, will they fail me? Roll the dice – relationships, even – get drunk, kiss a stranger, will it go further, or will it mean nothing? Will I catch feelings, and get my heart broken? Open case 12, deal or no deal?

It's how he got himself into trouble, to begin with, and what's continuing to dig a deeper hole, a tomb twelve miles deep. He wished he could explain it, he wished he felt the apologies and excuses deeper than his own exterior. But every time the words "I'm sorry" and "I'll do better" passed his lips, all he wanted to do was do it more. Was he ever sorry before he made the mistake? Did he ever truly want to stop before he screwed up once again?

No, he only felt sorry when he was far past safety. He wasn't good for much other than making other people suffer for the consequences he was supposed to be impacted from. His father, his friends, his professors – they all thought so highly of him, they all thought he was trying his best. But in reality, he wanted nothing more than to convince himself he was winning, when he was really just throwing his dreams into the gutter.

"What is this essay even about?" he wondered out loud, marking the date on the top of the paper.

Inej looked up at him. "The evolution of gun rights in the United States."

Good Lord, he didn't know the first thing about gun rights. Whose idea was this?

"I'm so screwed," he mumbled, burying his head in his hands.

"Jes, you know everything about guns. This'll be easy."

"No, I know everything about shooting guns. And that's only for target practice; I don't go shooting up schools. I know absolutely nothing about rights."