Read Online Clipped Wings by Helena Hunting - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helena Hunting
Ads: Link
half the night and I slept through my alarm. By the time I woke up, I was already late for my meeting with Professor Calder. The lots close to my advisor’s building were full, so I ended up parking on the opposite side of campus. I took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, aware I was making a terrible second impression. Our first meeting at the start of the semester hadn’t gone smoothly, and I’d hoped to be better prepared the second time around.
I knocked on his half-open door.
He glanced at me from over his glasses, disapproval unmistakable as he beckoned me inside. “Miss Page¸ how kind of you to show up. Are you so eager to be demitted from the master’s program already?”
“I’m sorry, Professor, my alarm—”
“Excuses are offensive. Shut the door and take a seat.”
“I didn’t mean—”
He raised a hand. “Stop talking.”
I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He stared at me until I looked away. I tried not to fidget. Or cry. Initially, Professor Calder had been pleasant enough over email, praising my ideas and the foundations of my research. He’d seemed genuinely intrigued by my focus on modification as an emergent cultural norm. But in person he’d been standoffish and blunt to the point of cruelty. I had no idea what I’d done to warrant the extreme change.
“I’ve been through your introductory research. It’s abysmal. You’ll need to go through the suggested revisions by next Wednesday. If it isn’t much improved, we will need to discuss whether or not you have the ability to meet the rigorous demands of this program.”
I looked up at the sound of his chair rolling across the floor. He rounded his desk, papers in hand. They were covered in red marks. “Do you have anything to say, Miss Page?”
“Thank you for seeing me even though I was late. It won’t happen again.” I couldn’t get anything else out for fear I would break down.
He sighed dramatically. “Next week is busy for me. I hadn’t planned on coddling you so much. You’ll have to come in early. Will nine o’clock pose a problem for you again?”
I shook my head.
“Pardon me?”
“Nine o’clock will be fine. Thank you, Professor.”
He handed me the papers. “Now go. I believe you have to teach in fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t advise you to be late for that, too.”
I collected my things and left his office, still holding back tears. I couldn’t afford to allow my emotions to get the better of me; I had a first-year seminar to deal with.
By the end of the day, I wanted to crawl into bed and wipe the hours from my memory. As luck would have it, that didn’t happen. An accident on the way home rerouted me off the freeway onto an unfamiliar exit. My GPS lost its signal, and I wound up in a part of the city I’d never been in before. The buildings were run down; graffiti adorned the crumbling brick and boarded-up windows of abandoned storefronts. The sun began to sink below the tree line, and the neighborhood didn’t look nearly as welcoming as where I lived now. I’d grown up in small-town Minnesota. I might not have known every street by name, but places were usually familiar—nothing like the ominous environment I found myself in now. Tears of frustration threatened as I glanced at street signs. Distracted, I ran through a stale yellow.
The flash of blue-and-red lights in my rearview mirror proved my error had not gone unseen. The tears I had been fighting all day won the battle, forging a path down my cheeks. I swiped at them with the sleeve of my shirt.
Traffic was heavy on the four-lane street, so I turned down a cul-de-sac as directed by the signals of the officer behind me. I’d never been pulled over before; I’d never even gotten a parking ticket. My fingers tapped restlessly on the wheel while I watched the officer saunter up to the driver’s side window. I rolled it down. The quiet inside the car was broken by the sound of horns honking and a man yelling somewhere in
I knocked on his half-open door.
He glanced at me from over his glasses, disapproval unmistakable as he beckoned me inside. “Miss Page¸ how kind of you to show up. Are you so eager to be demitted from the master’s program already?”
“I’m sorry, Professor, my alarm—”
“Excuses are offensive. Shut the door and take a seat.”
“I didn’t mean—”
He raised a hand. “Stop talking.”
I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He stared at me until I looked away. I tried not to fidget. Or cry. Initially, Professor Calder had been pleasant enough over email, praising my ideas and the foundations of my research. He’d seemed genuinely intrigued by my focus on modification as an emergent cultural norm. But in person he’d been standoffish and blunt to the point of cruelty. I had no idea what I’d done to warrant the extreme change.
“I’ve been through your introductory research. It’s abysmal. You’ll need to go through the suggested revisions by next Wednesday. If it isn’t much improved, we will need to discuss whether or not you have the ability to meet the rigorous demands of this program.”
I looked up at the sound of his chair rolling across the floor. He rounded his desk, papers in hand. They were covered in red marks. “Do you have anything to say, Miss Page?”
“Thank you for seeing me even though I was late. It won’t happen again.” I couldn’t get anything else out for fear I would break down.
He sighed dramatically. “Next week is busy for me. I hadn’t planned on coddling you so much. You’ll have to come in early. Will nine o’clock pose a problem for you again?”
I shook my head.
“Pardon me?”
“Nine o’clock will be fine. Thank you, Professor.”
He handed me the papers. “Now go. I believe you have to teach in fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t advise you to be late for that, too.”
I collected my things and left his office, still holding back tears. I couldn’t afford to allow my emotions to get the better of me; I had a first-year seminar to deal with.
By the end of the day, I wanted to crawl into bed and wipe the hours from my memory. As luck would have it, that didn’t happen. An accident on the way home rerouted me off the freeway onto an unfamiliar exit. My GPS lost its signal, and I wound up in a part of the city I’d never been in before. The buildings were run down; graffiti adorned the crumbling brick and boarded-up windows of abandoned storefronts. The sun began to sink below the tree line, and the neighborhood didn’t look nearly as welcoming as where I lived now. I’d grown up in small-town Minnesota. I might not have known every street by name, but places were usually familiar—nothing like the ominous environment I found myself in now. Tears of frustration threatened as I glanced at street signs. Distracted, I ran through a stale yellow.
The flash of blue-and-red lights in my rearview mirror proved my error had not gone unseen. The tears I had been fighting all day won the battle, forging a path down my cheeks. I swiped at them with the sleeve of my shirt.
Traffic was heavy on the four-lane street, so I turned down a cul-de-sac as directed by the signals of the officer behind me. I’d never been pulled over before; I’d never even gotten a parking ticket. My fingers tapped restlessly on the wheel while I watched the officer saunter up to the driver’s side window. I rolled it down. The quiet inside the car was broken by the sound of horns honking and a man yelling somewhere in
Similar Books
