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MidReal Story
She Wants Extra Credit
Scenario:I am a professor. At the end of my lecture, Jessica Johnson waits for the other students to leave before approaching me.
"Hey, Mister, I have a favor to ask. Is there any way I can get extra credit? I really don't want to fail this course."
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Jessica Johnson
student seeking extra credit, relationships with Professor Thatcher and classmates, petite with curly brown hair, determined and resourceful.
Professor Thatcher
the course instructor, mentor to Jessica and other students, tall with glasses and a stern demeanor, wise and slightly sarcastic.
Rio Collins
Jessica's classmate and potential study partner, friend of Jessica and acquaintance of Professor Thatcher, athletic build with short black hair, loyal and competitive.
"Professor Thatcher? May I see you for a moment?"
I stood in the doorway of his office, watching as he looked up from the book at his elbow and peered at me over the top of his glasses.
He frowned, blinked, and then set the book down on the desk with a sigh.
"Miss Johnson," he said.
"Come in, come in."
I came into his office and took the chair that was pointed out to me.
It was one of those plush, leather chairs that looked really comfortable but always turned out not to be.
I crossed my legs and folded my hands in my lap, waiting for him to speak.
He rolled a piece of paper into a cylinder and tapped it against his fingers, eyeing me thoughtfully.
"Are you finding the class challenging?" he asked.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Yes," I said.
"I am. That's why I was hoping to do some extra credit work."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Extra credit?" he repeated thoughtfully.
"What did you have in mind?"
I leaned forward, hands clenched together, elbows resting on the armchair edges.
"I'm not sure. I was hoping you could give me some ideas. I just really don't want to fail this course."
He studied me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my face, then flicking down over my blouse and back up again.
The office seemed smaller than it had the last time I'd been in here.
It felt warmer too, and more intimate.
I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to ignore the way my heart was pounding.
I glanced at his hand where it rested on the desk, noting that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring.
I remembered that ring from class, the way it used to catch the fluorescent lighting and wink at me as he wrote on the whiteboard.
Professor Thatcher leaned forward, closing the gap between us, and I caught a whiff of his cologne.
My mouth went dry.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.
The proposal I'd been going to make died in my throat and I sat there silently, staring into his eyes. His hand moved across the desk toward mine, his fingers brushing against my knuckles as he reached for another piece of paper.
I jerked my hand away and stood up abruptly from the chair.
"I'll have to think about it," he said.
"Come by tomorrow?"
I nodded, still staring at him in shock.
"Tomorrow," I repeated.
"Thank you," I said as I turned to leave.
He cleared his throat behind me.
"Miss Johnson?"
I turned back to look at him questioningly.
"You might want to button your blouse," he said softly.
My hands flew to my chest and I felt my cheeks go red as I realized what had happened when I leaned forward earlier.
I stumbled out into the empty hallway, my hands shaking as I fumbled with each button.
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and hummed, casting an unflattering glare over everything.
I stopped in front of a classroom window and checked my reflection to make sure I had everything properly fastened.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see who it was.
Rio: Did you forget about study group?
I ignored the text and slid down the wall to sit on the cold floor, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.
Professor Thatcher's cologne still lingered on my clothes and I could feel his eyes on me even though he was no longer in the room.
I pulled out my planner and flipped to tomorrow's schedule, staring at the blank space at 3 PM. After a few moments, I took a deep breath and reached for my pencil.
It slipped through my fingers, falling to the floor with a clatter.
I watched it roll away, deciding that tomorrow's meeting might be my last.
The pencil rolled across the linoleum, spinning toward the far end of the hallway.
I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs still a little shaky, and followed its path.
It stopped at a seam in the wall that I'd never noticed before.
I ran my fingers along the edge and found a thin gap.
When I pressed, a small maintenance door creaked open, releasing a wave of stale air into the hallway.
I retrieved my pencil and stood there for a moment, staring into the dark space beyond.
There was a noise from Professor Thatcher's office, like the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside.