Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Isn’t Methal a Christian college?”
I glanced sideways to Shay. He had a serious look on his face, but not in his eyes. It’s the same look he gave me the first day of class. He’d been laughing at me then, and he was laughing at these people now.
“Yeah.” Both girls turned to him. Aby pulled on one of her sleeves, smoothing it down. “I’m sure he’s pro-life, too.”
This was grating on my nerves.
I must’ve made a noise, because all eyes turned to me.
I could feel Shay’s smirk growing even as he asked, “Yes? You got a different opinion?”
I straightened in my seat, shrugging. “I don’t have an opinion, but it isn’t because of who my dad is or if my boyfriend goes to a Christian college. I don’t have an opinion, because it hasn’t happened to me yet. When it does, if it does, I’ll figure it out then. It’ll be my opinion, though. It won’t be because someone close to me told me how to think.”
Linde’s lips puckered together, and he leaned back. I thought I heard a, “Well, damn” from him.
Becs inclined her head toward me. “Are you saying I don’t have a real opinion?”
“I’m not saying it to be mean, but that’s what you said. And that’s my opinion on what you said.”
“Excuse me?” Her lips thinned.
“You’re pro-life because your family’s religious.” I held my hands out toward her. “You said it yourself.” I looked at Aby, but she already knew what was coming. She started to shift back in her seat. “You said the same thing. Your dad is a pastor, and you can’t think a different way. I’m not sure about the whole boyfriend thing, but you still used your dad as your defining point.” I leaned back in my seat.
See. I still had some of the lawyer spark in me. Not enough to keep going with these classes, but it was there.
Linde started laughing.
I turned to him. “How about you? What’s your opinion since Mr. Reporter is pleading the fifth?”
“Uh.” His laughter dried up, and his eyes shifted among all of us. “I guess,” he tugged at his shirt’s collar, “I’m pro-choice.” His head dipped just slightly to the right, as if to say, “There, I said it.” Then he turned to the other girls. “My sister was raped. She didn’t want to have his kid when she was fourteen. So, yeah”—his eyes flicked to mine again—“I’m pro-choice, because there’s no way I’m going against my little sister and the guilt and torment she feels every day because some dick decided to force his inside her.”
I didn’t spare a look at Becs or Aby. I felt a flash of remorse for forcing the matter, but the professor called time. We had to go around and present our discussion. When it came to us, Shay stood. “We came to a deadlock.”
The professor folded his arms over his stomach. “You have five members. How could there be a deadlock?”
Shay glanced to me before saying, “Two for life. Two for choice. And one person who doesn’t have an opinion yet.”
I felt surprise from the two girls, but for some reason, I wasn’t surprised he was pro-choice. I glanced at Linde. I never would’ve imagined what his opinion had been just by looking at him.
As if feeling my attention, he looked over and dipped his head in a nod.
There it was.
I got what so many guys coveted from a starting football player at Dulane University. The nod of respect.
I grinned back, and he matched it.
My chin lifted an inch higher.
I just made my first friend in poli-sci, but my enjoyment was short-lived.
The professor announced, “Okay. Good discussion. Now exchange numbers and information with your group members. This is the group you’re going to be doing your final presentation with at the end of the semester. It’s one-third of your grade.”
I groaned and let my head fall to my desk.
Shay’s laughter fell down on me. He leaned close to my ear, whispering, “Look at that. More to look forward to.” He patted my back. “Thanks, Clarke. I knew this class wasn’t going to be boring.”
I suddenly had a bad taste in my mouth.
My reservations were up the day I met my roommate. Again—bad memories from high school, but the initial meeting went fine.
Her name was Missy.
She had a round, pimply face with a large forehead. Almost coarse-like black hair hung down past her shoulders. She was a couple inches shorter than me and quiet. Good gracious, she was quiet, but she laughed when she found out I had never watched Titanic.
She could quote the entire thing. And shocker, her bin of movies were chick flicks.
We looked at mine: all action-adventure.
She turned her nose up at Gladiator.
Really?
The similarities ended there—the fact that we both liked some (I’m being generous with that word) movies.