Page 85 of What We Knew Then
“I know,” I reply quickly. “But I have chronic migraines. Sometimes they’re… disabling. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t even use my phone. I just… if there’s any way I could take it now—”
Her expression softens further, but her head shakes. “I understand this is frustrating,” she sympathizes. “But the syllabus clearly states there are no retakes for missed exams.”
My stomach drops.
“I’ve never missed an exam like this before,” I whisper. “I have a 4.0. I’ve never been late to anything.”
“I know; you’re an excellent student.”
“Then please,” I beg, the desperation slipping through before I can stop it. “This isn’t… this isn’t like me.”
She hesitates. “If you have a chronic medical condition,” she says carefully, “you should have accommodations through the university’s disability services office.” It comes out more like a question than a statement.
The words feel like they echo. Accommodations. Extra time. Flexible exam windows. The paperwork I always told myself I didn’t need because I could manage. My parents always said I was being stubborn, that needing help didn’t make me any less, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Because I always managed. That’s what I did. I found a way. Factored in extra time. Always seemed to make it work.
Until now.
“I—don’t,” I admit. “I don’t have accommodations. Please, without any points toward this, there’s no way I can even pass this class.”
Her shoulders drop and I know where this is going. “I’m afraid without that documentation, I can’t make any exceptions.”
The room feels suddenly small. Quiet. Impossible to be in.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
I nod automatically, even though my chest feels like it’s collapsing inward. I turn before she can see the tears gathering in my eyes.
Outside the classroom, the hallway is almost empty.
My hands shake as I grip the strap of my backpack, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter 51
LANE
Iwasintheweight room when Cora called. Seeing the missed call notification made my stomach flip. She never calls.
When I try to call her back, she doesn’t answer. I text her. Call again. No response. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her for over an hour. Pacing in my apartment, I get a text message from an unknown number.
Unknown
it’s Brinn
answer when I call
A few seconds later, my phone rings. I answer immediately.
“Hey,” she says quickly. There’s noise behind her—metal clanging, voices, the low thump of music. “I’m in the middle of a shift and can’t leave. I got your number from Leo, don’t be weird.”
I rub a hand down my face. “What do you mean you can’t leave? Leave for what?”
“Cora. She’s at Shore Thing. And someone needs to go get her.”
My stomach tightens because it’s not even five p.m. on a Wednesday night. Why is she at the bar?
