I was almost done with my lunch when Maya slipped out of my office, her sketchbook clutched like a secret. She’d been working on a new canvas all morning, and even I had to admit the piece was something I couldn’t have imagined. A few more months, I thought, and maybe we could get her into a collective in New York or Philly, finally give her a foothold in the art world.
I was still waiting for a reply from Jonathan, an old friend who runs a gallery, with a stack of papers scattered lazily across my desk. I reached for them, and a soft “Excuse me…” pulled my attention away.
Chloe stood in the doorway, notebook in hand, her expression a blend of nervousness and calculation. She was the only student in my class who was actually failing, and she’d been hovering ever since the midterm, waiting for a chance to ask for a grade bump.
“Mr. Langford,” she began, voice barely above a whisper, “I was hoping we could talk about my grade. Is there any way you could move me up to at least a C?”
I felt the absurdity of the request slide over me like a cold draft. If she simply turned in the projects she’d been neglecting, I’d have no problem. But Maya had told me she thought anything not “useful in life” was a waste of time. Chloe seemed to be counting on that philosophy, hoping I’d hand her a better mark without any work on her part.
I forced a smile, the kind that barely concealed the urge to laugh. “I’m sorry, Chloe, but I can’t just change grades. If you submit the assignments- even a half?hearted effort- I can raise you to a C. Do a solid job and a B is possible. I’m not going to give you a pass for nothing.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, the cramped office suddenly feeling too small. I could feel her breath on my cheek as she leaned over my desk, trying to catch a glimpse of the phone that rested a few inches from my hand. My mind flickered to Maya, how would I explain this to her? I’m sure she would believe me but it all still felt so wrong.
Before I could even lift the device, she pressed her palm against my chest, a thin, desperate gesture that made my stomach churn. “Are you sure there’s nothing…?”
The sound of my phone vibrating sliced through the tension. The ringtone was shrill, unmistakable- Saving Abel’s addicted. The lock screen flashed her photo, bright?eyed, sitting on our kitchen counter cup of coffee in hand, in only a paint?splattered t?shirt, her smile a stark reminder of everything that was at stake.
Chloe’s eyes darted to the screen, then back to me, the sudden shift turning her pout into a cold, calculated smile. She lifted her own phone, snapped a quick picture of my face, phone screen in full view. and swallowed a laugh that didn’t belong to her.
“Looks like you don’t have a choice, Mr. Langford,” she whispered, the words low enough that only I could hear. “Hand me the B, and I’ll keep this between us. If you don’t… well, I’m sure the administration would love to see the whole mess.”
The threat hung in the air, heavier than any paint brush I’d ever held. I could feel the weight of every unfinished canvas, every promise I’d made to Maya, and the fragile hope of a future in the city. I stared at the photo, at the smirk curling on Chloe’s lips, and realized I was staring at my own downfall.
My throat tightened. “Fine,” I said, voice barely a rasp. “I’ll give you the B. But if you ever try this again,”
She didn’t need to hear the rest. She slipped the phone back into her pocket, a satisfied glint in her eyes, and left the office as silently as she had entered.
I sat there, heart pounding, the echo of Maya’s ringtone still reverberating in the room.
