Page 3 of Embrace

I scratch the back of my neck, finally meeting her sharp glare.

“I need to talk to you about my transcript.” I try to help her gather her stuff.

“Don’t.” She takes a deep, deep breath. “Don’t touch anything.” Then she collects her papers and tosses the ones covered in rainwater and coffee into a nearby trash can. Then I follow her into her office.

“I’ll take those to the dry cleaner for you,” I offer. “Or wash them by hand. I’m great at laundry. Ask Coach.”

She sits at her desk, then gestures for me to take a seat. “That won’t be necessary. Are you here about your missing credits? I received alleightof your frantic emails from last week. I would have gotten back to you.”

I slide onto her desk, but the look she gives me forces me to the plastic seat. “But I need to make sure I’ve secured my spot in Advanced Stats. I got an email that even if it was approved during course selections, it’s subject to change for priority students.”

She raises a brow, typing on her computer. “That’s because it’s an advanced, senior-level course. It’s not an elective. There’s a reason it’s five credits.”

“Exactly. Paired with my electives, it’s the exact amount I need to graduate.”

“Mr. Ishida, you don’t need Advanced Stats. Your GPA is the minimum needed for hockey, and you’ve got a career ahead of you. There are many athletes who come through my office knowing they’re only here until they get called up.”

I’m trying to understand why my academic adviser is advisingagainstacademics. It probably doesn’t help that my super-senior status doesn’t inspire confidence.

Even at practice this morning, Coach Kilner ran us into the ground until we were nothing but sludge. I’m sure the man was hoping he’d be done with us last semester. But we had to rotate leadership, which means new captaincy and updating lines. Dylan Donovan, my best friend, got the majority vote, and he was not happy. He was even more pissed when he found out I voted for him. It was supposed to be a harmless joke.

Dylan prefers to live by his own rules without having anyone follow. Now everyone is looking to him for leadership.

Dorris stares back at me with an irritated look, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. “So you’re telling me I should just leave my degree incomplete, Dorris?”

“You have that option, yes.”

It might be the three classes I flunked in sophomore year, or the electives courses I never bothered to attend, but I was hoping for a little encouragement from the woman today.

“I can’t do that. I need to finish my classes.” I need tograduate.

I thought I was on track to do it, until we got our final transcripts last semester. The plan was that either Dylan and I got called up early to the NHL or we’d finish school before heading to the big show. But we only just got drafted to New York this summer, which means we still have until January to finish school. It hit me like a bag of bricks that I’d get to live my lifelong dream of playing professional hockey…only to lose my dad’s by not graduating before leaving Dalton.

“You can still walk the stage, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she offers.

That’s not what I’m worried about.

Four years ago, I got the worst phone call of my life. My dad died, and I had to get on the next flight to Japan for the funeral. He’d been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer six months earlier, and no one told me.

That whole year is a blur to me, and I’d rather it stay that way because I wasn’t myself. My friends noticed, but to everyone else I was coping excellently. Coping. What a joke.

“It’s not about that.” Not like there’s anyone to see me achieve that milestone anyway. “I want to graduate with my degree.”

She huffs before turning back to her computer. “Are you sure you want to take a five-credit course in your final semester? For psychology? That’s a lot to leave on the line.”

“Trust me, I’ve got it handled. My study group starts in an hour, and the girl who leads it is like a mega genius. Once I get her to tutor me, I’m clear. And I’ve cut down on partying. I got home at, like, two last night—or this morning—anyway I’m practically living like an honor student.”

She’s not impressed. “Have you heard of Dr. Dunn?”

My eyes nearly bulge out of my skull. Dr. Dunn was supposed to retire, like, ten years ago. The man is every psychology student’s worst nightmare. Last year, he took a leave of absence, and the entire cohort cheered. His replacement is the reason I wasn’t worried about the course. But if he’s back, I’m screwed.

“From your facial expression, I’m assuming you’ve heard about him. So I’m asking you again, Kian. Are you sure about this?”

I don’t need to think it over. It was my dad’s one wish when he sent me here. “Yes.”

She sighs. “Based on your academic history, I’d normally discourage such sudden optimism when taking a highly intensive course, but who am I to turn you away from education?”

I straighten. “So I can keep this schedule and still meet all my requirements?”