Stone Creek by Davis, Lainey (reading diary .TXT) 📕

That he said nothing about us being together. I feel like I'm being ripped in half and all I want to do is go to him for a hug. Which I can't do.

"Oh god, Linda. I think I love him." I dive back into the covers and start to cry again. "And it's going to ruin my life."

She continues trying to soothe me, telling me it will all work out. She doesn't know, though. She hasn't spent Christmas and summer break working in the factory where my dad got me a job. That's what's waiting for me if I go back home with no degree. That or working as a flag girl for the road construction crew. I moan, thinking about how close I came to getting away, finding a different path.

Linda pats the blankets for awhile and then makes us some dinner. In the morning, we walk to class and she takes my phone so I stop obsessively checking my email.

I'm a basketcase during class, totally distracted. I hear about a third of what the professor is saying as I sweat over the possibilities. Will I be asked to leave school immediately? Can they maybe send me some sort of bill to cover just the last third of the semester?

After class, Linda turns on my phone and summarizes what I've missed. "Some texts from Neal--'where are you? We need to talk. What the hell, Dahlia? Answer my calls'…sounds like he wants to talk to you."

I shake my head. She continues. "Here's one from Jeremy, actually. 'Congrats on GRE. Tim told me you aced it'--I bragged about you to Tim, by the way. They're both happy for you. Jeremy also says 'drinks at the Tap Room later to celebrate?'"

"Linda, just open my email." I start chewing on my nails frantically. If there isn't anything form Dr. Meyer I'm going to have to go see him anyway, just because I can't bear the stress of not knowing my fate.

She sighs. "There is one. I mean, you have like 30, but there's one from Dr. Meyer. Hang on." She scrolls around. "'Dahlia, can you stop by my office this afternoon? I wanted to have a chat about next year. I have drop-in hours 3-4. See you then.' Hey, that's not so bad," she says.

I feel my heart beating inside my ears, but don't say anything. Linda says, "I think if he was going to fire you he'd either call or else be more assertive. Like, if he was going to fire you he'd have said 'next semester' instead of 'next year.'"

"Maybe. What is it now? Noon? God, I have to survive three more hours." She takes me to the cafeteria and buys me a sandwich. I try to skip my next class, but Linda drags me in and promises it will help distract me until my doomsday meeting.

~~~

At 2:55, I begin pacing the hallway outside Dr. Meyer's office. My skin is clammy with cold sweat and my hair has half escaped my braid. I can't remember if I showered this morning, but a quick sniff tells me I certainly didn't remember deodorant. I feel like a slob and am about to run home to shower and change, when I see Dr. Meyer come around the corner holding a stack of folders.

I hold my breath, but he smiles when he sees me. "Dahlia! Come on in."

When I hesitate in the doorway, he offers me the dish of chocolate on the edge of his desk. "Please," he said, "take some! My wife sent these to help my students with end-of-term nerves." I perch on the edge of one of the chairs and start unwrapping the candy as he rifles through his folder. "Ah! Yes! Here we go."

I wish I'd thought to take a few shots before coming in here, to calm my nerves. Dr. Meyer continues. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of reaching out to my friend in the math department at MIT." I freeze mid-bite and look at him, both eyebrows raised in confusion.

"When you asked me for a recommendation, I started reviewing my notes and looking over your own notes from guiding study sessions in past years. I told my esteemed colleague he would be remiss if he didn't offer you a teaching fellowship in their graduate program." At this, he smiles and unwraps one of the chocolates.

I'm still sitting frozen in place, not quite understanding what he's said. Dr. Meyer laughs a bit and says, "He agreed." Dr. Meyer slides a folder across the desk for me to see. He printed out an email from Professor Carey, head of the mathematics department at MIT. It reads, "Just received her transcripts and GRE scores. Please tell Ms. Wardzinksi we'd love to have her up. Official offer letter in the post!"

Dr. Meyer is babbling now. "I just get such a thrill when my students do well. You know, I don't even get to teach much anymore since department head is mostly an administrative position. I've loved talking to you about teaching strategies this term, Dahlia. You have a sharp mind and an instinct for translating the material for your students--whatever is the matter, dear?"

I'm crying in relief. Totally unable to hold back the tears, they flow down my grubby face. My sweat shoulders shake and my nose runs as Dr. Meyer hands me a tissue box. I cry for a few minutes while he peers at me in concern. I finally take a deep breath and say, "I thought you were calling me here to fire me."

"Fire you? For what?"

"Well, sir, I…I haven't been fully professional with Neal Sweeney." I start crying again more forcefully, knowing that now he will likely rescind the MIT offer. I'm sure Penn is absolutely out of the question. I start to wonder if I might throw up, when Dr. Meyer starts