Chapter 8. Signed with Professor Harlan

Ava

I knocked hard, three sharp raps that echoed down the empty hall.

I waited, foot tapping the scuffed linoleum, backpack strap digging into my shoulder. The door creaked open slowly, Harlan’s face poked out, glasses perched low, tweed jacket rumpled like he’d slept in it.

“Ava. Come in.” He said, stepped back, held the door wide. I swallowed dry, I ducked under his arm, I stepped inside the office, door clicking shut soft behind me.

I dropped my backpack by the door, I walked to the chair, I sat down stiff, hands gripping the arms tight.

He rounded the desk slowly, settled into his swivel chair.

“So. The F.” He said, eyes flicking to the list on his blotter, red pen capped beside it.

I explained my grade failure to him, leaned forward quickly, elbows on my knees, words tumbling fast.

“Professor Harlan, I swear I studied. Nights, flashcards, every formula. But the exam... blanked on half the proofs. Integrals mixed up, derivat