“His reputation?” I ask. Sure, he was surly, but maybe there’s more to the story.
“They’re all assholes.” Ian shakes his head. “Ok, not assholes, exactly. But they’re rich and entitled, and they don’t seem to give much of a damn about anyone but each other. They’re a tight crew. Sure, they’ll socialize. Hell, Whit deejays half the parties on Greek row. And Booker plays hockey. And, yes, I will take this moment to pay homage to how fucking hot his hockey butt is. So, yea, they’re visible and everybody knows them. Part of that is because Booker’s great-great-great grandaddy founded this school. Another part is that they’re all nice to look at. But here’s the thing: they’re totally insular. It’s the four of them against the rest of the world. I don’t think any of them have ever had a long-term relationship. Not to say you can’t have some fun, but...just be careful.”
I shake my head. “Um, there will be no fun-having of any kind. It was just a campus tour. And I promise you, I am not his type. Actually, I’m fairly certain I annoyed the crap out of him.”
“Uh-huh.” Mel nods. “Just be careful.”
I brush off their warnings. “It’s not a big deal.” Just as I reiterate that fact, my phone starts buzzing in my bag. I wonder if my mom is calling to check in, but more than likely, Sam is doing that on her behalf.
It’s neither. It’s the childcare center where I interviewed on Friday. “Hello?” I answer.
“Hi, is this Phoebe James?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“Hi, Phoebe. This is Carla Watson from The Learning Tree. I’m calling to offer you the after-school art program leader position.”
Inside I’m flipping out with joy. “Thank you so much!”
“Well, don’t thank me quite yet. I know that we advertised that the position required ten hours a week, right?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping she doesn’t take those hours back. My scholarship covers everything related to school, but I still need a job to pay for my car insurance and food…
“Would you be able to bump that up to fifteen? We’d love for you to come in at three every day to start the program. The kids begin arriving close to four, but there’s a snack to prepare, and you’ll need to set up the space daily, because the preschoolers use it in the morning. Typically, another employee could deal with snack and prep, but we’re a little short-staffed right now.”
“Oh, yea. Sure. No, that sounds great.” I sound like an idiot; I can feel it. But I don’t care. I have a job and I’m getting more hours than I initially thought.
“Wonderful. Just swing by tomorrow afternoon to get everything sorted.”
“I will. Thank you.”
I turn back to Mel and Ian, who are trying desperately to look like they’re not eavesdropping.
“That was the childcare place?” Mel asks.
“Yea, I’m hired! They want to give me more hours and put me in charge of the after-school art program.” I should probably wait to get a job until after I adjust to a full schedule and campus life, and all of that, but the thrifty part of me always wins out. My scholarship covers a lot, which is awesome, but it only goes so far. And I’m not taking out any loans, if I can help it. And my mom and Sam have enough going on. So, I figured I’d work ten hours a week doing art projects with kids. That’s pretty much my dream job. And fifteen isn’t that much more than ten.
“That’s good, right?” says Ian.
“So good, it’s just that I need to start earlier than I thought each day, which will mess with my lit class. Damn it.”
“You can always quit there and come work with us,” Melanie sing-songs and points to the help wanted sign hanging on the wall.
“Oh my god, yes,” Ian chimes in. “We can get you on the schedule for tomorrow, and training you will be a breeze.”
“Thanks, but no.” At his crestfallen look, I explain, “I wish I could help, but this job is sort of in my field. I mean, it’s after-school care, so it’s not exactly art therapy, but it’s kids and art, and that’s pretty damn close.”
“Totally understand.” He smiles. “And it sounds like that’s a pretty perfect job for you.”
“It is. But...Shit. What am I going to do? If I have to drop my lit class, can I still keep my scholarship? Is there another class I can transfer into? There has to be, right?”
Ian frowns. “Check with your advisor. They should be able to find something that fits with your schedule, especially since it’s for work.”
I do a quick search on my phone. “Ok, I’m going to head over to Dr. Zemaitis’s office now. The internet tells me he has office hours until five. Wish me luck!”
“Let us know how it goes!” Mel calls as I grab my drink and rush out the door and run right the hell into what feels like a brick wall. Stumbling back, I recover well enough to look up and see that I’ve just accosted Ty Marshall. Great.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I didn’t spill any coffee on you, did I?”
