Chapter Seventeen

Wednesday;

I was sitting at the dining table, enjoying the quiet of the morning as I lazily scrolled through my phone, spooning cereal into my mouth without much thought. The peacefulness was cut short by a voice from beside me.

"Morning."

Startled, I nearly sent my phone plunging into the bowl of milk and cereal. I whipped around to see Aunt Grace standing there, her smile bright and full of energy.

"Auntie Grace?" I blinked at her in confusion, "Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?"

She just shook her head, sliding into the chair beside me with a casual air as if she hadn't just snuck up on me. Without hesitation, she grabbed my bowl and took a bite of my cereal like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Nope, I'm off today," she said cheerfully, handing the bowl back with a sly grin. I shook my head at her antics, pulling it closer before she could swipe another spoonful.

"Speaking of the hospital," she added, her tone shifting slightly, "Where were you yesterday?"

Ah, right. I hadn't mentioned the TA position to Aunt Grace yet. Yesterday had been such a whirlwind that when I got home, I'd barely managed to crawl into bed before passing out, only waking up this morning.

"I got the TA position," I finally said, offering a small smile, watching as Aunt Grace's eyes lit up in excitement. Her face practically glowed as she clapped her hands together in delight.

"What! Congratulations!" she beamed. "I told you that boy she picked wouldn't last long."

I chuckled, though the thought of the original TA still lingered in the back of my mind. What had happened to him?

"How was it yesterday?" Aunt Grace asked, snapping me back to the present. I sighed, sinking a little deeper into my chair.

"Could've been better," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "I bought her an iced coffee just to be nice, but she didn't even drink it."

Aunt Grace's expression quickly soured, her lips pressing into a tight line. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope," I said, shaking my head. "She just pushed it away with a pen and told me she doesn't like iced coffee. Then, she basically said I could drink it instead."

Aunt Grace raised her eyebrows in disbelief, clearly appalled by the rudeness. "She pushed it away with a pen?" she repeated, her voice full of exasperation. I nodded, laughing softly at how absurd it all sounded now that I was saying it out loud.

Aunt Grace rose from the table, making her way toward the kitchen with a soft clinking of dishes. I glanced down at my phone, realizing it was time to get going. Morning classes weren't going to wait, and I had to get through another day of TA duties with Professor Montgomery.

I picked up my empty cereal bowl and followed Aunt Grace into the kitchen, placing it in the sink with a clatter. "I'll see you later," I called over my shoulder, giving her a quick hug before slipping out the door.

The drive to campus was uneventful, but as I parked and stepped out of my car, the crisp morning air felt refreshing. I walked toward the fountain, already spotting Lea sitting cross-legged on the bench, her head buried in her phone.

"She lives!" Lea called out dramatically when she saw me approaching. Chuckling, I flopped down beside her, the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the trees and casting soft, dappled shadows on the ground.

"How much info did you gather for that research project?" I asked, turning to face her, my eyes scanning the familiar hustle of students moving around campus.

Lea grinned, slipping her phone into her bag. "Quite a lot, actually," she said, proud of herself. "We should probably head to the library and finish it up."

I glanced down at my phone, my heart sinking a little as I realized the time. "I've got a lecture in a few minutes," I said, shaking my head.

Lea waved me off with a carefree smile. "No worries, I'll keep working on it. Meet me in the library when you're done."

I shot her a grateful smile before grabbing my bag and heading across campus toward Professor Vargas' class. The familiar clatter of students echoed through the hallway as I stepped into the lecture hall. Prof. Vargas stood at the podium, her attention focused on a student animatedly talking to her about something.

She gave me a brief glance and a warm smile, then quickly returned her focus to the conversation at hand.

I made my way to a seat near the middle, pulling my notebook from my bag and flipping it open to the last set of notes. The room slowly filled with students as the minutes ticked by. I could hear the hum of idle conversations, but it quickly died down when Prof. Vargas tapped her finger on the podium, signaling that class was about to begin.

"All right, let's get started," she said, her voice carrying easily over the room as she scanned the faces in front of her. Once she seemed satisfied that everyone was present, she straightened up and smiled.

"I'll be handing out a short paper with a few questions," she announced, pulling out a stack of papers and starting to walk down the aisles, passing them out one by one. "I want these answered by the end of the lecture, no books, no notes."

A pop quiz? Great. I glanced at the paper when she placed it on my desk, my heart sinking slightly. But then she added, "This won't count for marks, I just want to see how well you've all grasped the material."

Relief flooded me, but I couldn't help feeling the pressure as the quiz sat in front of me, daring me to remember everything we'd covered. I picked up my pen, ready to give it my best shot.

Professor Vargas stepped back to the podium and gave us a nod, her voice calm and reassuring, "You may begin. Once you're done, place it on my desk and feel free to leave."

I took a deep breath and turned my attention to the quiz. My pen moved across the paper as I read each question carefully, answering them to the best of my ability. To my surprise, the questions weren't as hard as I anticipated. The material came back to me easily, more than I had expected. My confidence grew with each answer, and before I knew it, I had finished the last question.

I leaned back in my seat for a moment, quickly scanning through my answers to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Satisfied, I tucked my pen back into my bag and stood up. The quiet shuffling of papers and pens filled the room as a few others worked through their quizzes. I made my way to Professor Vargas' desk at the front, feeling her eyes briefly glance up from her work.

She met my gaze for a second, offering a small smile, then looked back down, continuing with her grading. I carefully placed my quiz on the growing stack of papers from the other students and walked out of the room.

After leaving the lecture hall, I made a beeline for the library, the cool morning air enveloping me as I crossed the campus. The doors of the library slid open as I came near them, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood filling my lungs. I scanned the rows of tables, looking for Lea among the scattered students hunched over their laptops and textbooks.

There she was, sitting near the middle of the room, surrounded by a fortress of papers and books. I approached quietly, dropping into the seat across from her with a small smile. "How's it going?" I asked, my voice low to match the hushed atmosphere.

Lea looked up from her screen, her eyes slightly glazed from looking at the screen for too long. She gave me a tired grin, swiveling her laptop towards me. "I've found a ton of websites. We just need to sift through them and combine the best parts."

I nodded, impressed with how much she had already gathered. "Nice job," I murmured, pulling my own laptop from my bag. The clink of the zipper and the soft hum of the computer powering on blended with the quiet rustling of pages and soft murmurs around us.

Lea and I got to work, our heads bent over our screens as we began comparing sources, piecing together the information for our assignment. The quiet focus of the library enveloped us, and for a moment, the stress of deadlines and demanding professors faded into the background.

We had been working in silence for about fifteen minutes, lost in the flow of research and typing, when a sharp tap on the table broke the quiet. Lea and I both looked up, and there she was—Prof. Montgomery, towering over us with one hand on her hip and the other still resting on the table. Her perfectly manicured finger tapped once more as if to punctuate her presence.

Her expression was the same, cool and unimpressed, her eyes scanning us like we were wasting her precious time. What now? Does she want more drinks and pastries to throw away? Well, joke's on her—there's nothing this time.

"My office," she said curtly, her voice low and direct, before turning on her heel and walking away without another glance.

I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders slumping as I glanced apologetically at Lea, who was watching the whole scene with amusement dancing in her eyes. "You better get going before she actually kills you," she joked, barely suppressing a laugh. "I'll finish up here."

"Ugh, I am so sorry," I muttered, hurriedly stuffing my laptop and papers back into my bag.

Lea waved me off with a grin. "Don't worry about it," she said, lifting her can of Monster energy drink. "I've got this—and my Monster. I'll be fine."

I gave her a grateful smile before rushing out of the library, hoping whatever Prof. Montgomery wanted wouldn't ruin the rest of my day.

The door to Prof. Montgomery's office was already ajar, so I slipped in quietly, not bothering to knock. I knew better by now—she didn't appreciate unnecessary interruptions. Without hesitation, I walked straight to the chair in front of her desk and sat down. If I lingered by the door too long, she'd definitely scold me for wasting time.

I opened my mouth to ask what she wanted, but she immediately raised a finger, silencing me as she finished jotting something down in her notebook. The room was dead quiet except for the scratch of her pen, the tension thick enough to make me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Finally, she looked up from her notes. "How good are you with planning lessons?" Her voice was direct, no trace of curiosity—more like she was just checking off a box.

Planning lessons? When had I ever needed to plan a lesson? "Uh, I don't know?" I started, my voice unsure. "I've never really had to-"

"Okay," she interrupted again, cutting me off mid-sentence as if she'd heard enough. She slid a thick book toward me, several pages marked with sticky notes. "Let's see how good you are," she said, her tone flat, like this was a challenge I'd likely fail.

I hesitantly picked up the book and started flipping through the marked pages, feeling my stomach knot. Planning lessons? Seriously? I'd barely gotten used to marking quizzes.

"Do you know how to make a PowerPoint presentation?" she asked, leaning back in her chair with a bored expression. "Or do I need to teach you?" The way she said it made it clear she had absolutely no intention of teaching me—thankfully, she didn't need to.

"No, I know how," I quickly responded, reaching into my bag to grab my laptop, eager to prove myself at least somewhat capable.

She nodded, finally sitting up straight again, eyes back on her computer as if our conversation had already ended.

I glanced at Prof. Montgomery for a few more moments, trying to gauge if she was expecting more from me or if she was done handing out tasks for now. Her attention had shifted back to her computer, the rapid clacking of keys filling the room. Alright, I thought, turning my focus to the book she'd given me. How hard could planning a lesson be?

But almost immediately, doubt crept in. I'd never done this before—what if I completely messed it up? What if she ended up regretting picking me as her TA? I quickly shook off the spiraling thoughts. There was no point in second-guessing everything right now. I just had to get on with it.

I opened PowerPoint, trying to picture how the presentation should look. Should it be all text? Or would it need some visuals to keep things engaging?

"Professor?" I called out, glancing up. "Pictures or no pictures?"

She paused from her typing, lifting her eyes from the screen. "You can add pictures," she said, her voice crisp, "but not too many. I'm teaching university students, not primary schoolers."

I nodded quickly, taking mental notes. Okay, pictures—but keep it sophisticated. Got it. I flipped through the pages of the book, scanning the material for the key points that would make the slides informative but not overwhelming. Then, I began to search for images that matched the concepts—nothing too childish or excessive, just enough to break up the text and keep it engaging.

With each slide I built, I tried to imagine how Prof. Montgomery would present the material. It had to be sharp, organized, and professional—just like her.

I was making solid progress, the slides were coming together better than I expected. The rhythm of it was satisfying—each point leading seamlessly to the next. But just as I hit a groove, I glanced at the time and realized I needed to get ready for my next lecture, which, ironically, was with Prof. Montgomery.

Reluctantly, I began saving my work, my fingers hovering over the keys for a moment. "Professor, is it okay if I leave my laptop here?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "It's just... a hassle to pack it up only to take it back out after your lecture."

Prof. Montgomery barely looked up from her screen. She gave my laptop the briefest glance before her eyes snapped back to her own work. "No," she said flatly, without a hint of explanation or reasoning.

I blinked. She's joking, right? I stared at her for a second, expecting maybe a smirk, a sign that she wasn't serious, but no. There she was, cool and composed, tapping away as if what she'd said made perfect sense.

I resisted the urge to argue—there was no way my laptop sitting here would inconvenience her while she was out teaching. But this was Prof. Montgomery, and arguing wouldn't get me anywhere. So, sighing internally, I began the frustrating task of packing up my things, knowing full well I'd just be pulling them back out after class.

Without a word, I rose from the chair and quietly left Prof. Montgomery's office, my mood slightly dampened by her curt response. The walk to the lecture hall felt longer than usual, the weight of her indifference settling in my chest.

Once I reached the hall, I slid into my usual seat, pulling out my notebook mechanically, though my mind was still running over the PowerPoint presentation and her dismissive attitude. The room filled slowly with the sound of students murmuring and shuffling into their places, the familiar buzz before a lecture began. I tried to shake off the lingering frustration and focus, but it wasn't easy.

Prof. Montgomery entered the room a few minutes later, her presence commanding immediate silence. She placed her handbag on the desk and stood there for a few beats, scanning the room with those sharp eyes. She seemed to be waiting, letting the last few stragglers trickle in before she made her move.

Then, as if on cue, she reached for a stack of papers on her desk and started walking down the aisles, handing them out. My stomach dropped. Quizzes. Crap.

It hit me all at once—I'd been so consumed with thoughts about becoming her TA, obsessing over the dynamics of our first day working together, that I'd completely forgotten we had a quiz at the start of every lecture.

I stared blankly at the paper she placed in front of me, panic creeping in. I didn't know the material well enough, not for this. The questions might as well have been in another language. My pulse quickened as I glanced around the room—other students were already scribbling away, heads down, focused.

I swallowed hard. This was going to be a disaster. And, as I learned yesterday, Prof. Montgomery definitely did mark these herself.

I stared down at the quiz, trying to scrape together any semblance of an answer. My pen hovered over the page as I attempted to recall even the tiniest shred of information. Each question taunted me with its blankness, the emptiness of my mind reflected right back at me. I forced myself to scribble something down, but I knew deep down it wasn't enough. I hadn't studied, and no amount of frantic guessing was going to change that.

The fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. I kept reading and rereading the questions, hoping somehow the answers would magically come to me, but they didn't. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, and my frustration grew with every passing second.

Finally, the time was up. Prof. Montgomery walked the aisles, collecting the quizzes. I tried to look casual, but my heart sank when she reached my desk. She glanced down at my half-hearted attempts to answer the questions, her lips pressing into a thin line. A small shake of her head told me everything I needed to know as she moved on to the next student.

I clenched my fist under the desk. This wasn't just about failing a quiz—it was about proving myself. I couldn't afford to keep slipping like this, not as her TA. It felt like the pressure had doubled overnight. If I wanted to survive this, I'd need to focus—really focus—on today's lesson and every one after that. No more excuses, no more shortcuts. It was time to step up and take responsibility, both as her student and as her assistant.