Keep Me If You Can (If You Can #3)

19. After School Special

Chapter nineteen

After School Special

“N o,” Glitch said the moment I walked into their office the next day.

“Glitch—”

“There wasn’t even anything due today, Nellie,” they said, not even bothering to look up from their laptop.

“I know, but—”

“And there is no case study this week,” they continued. “Your midterm paper is due. And if you think there’s any reason I can give you an extension on that, my professional recommendation is that you seek medical help for your delusions.”

“Glitch, I fucked up.”

I didn’t mean for my voice to crack. I didn’t mean to sound like I was about to cry. I didn’t mean to make Glitch finally look up from their laptop, only to see me sitting in the chair I always sat in when I asked them for an extension fighting back tears.

But I did.

And it was fucking humiliating.

“What?” they said.

“I fucked up.” I pulled the syllabus out of my bag. “I mixed up the dates.”

They sighed. “Nellie—”

“I thought the midterm was this Wednesday and the paper was next week.” It was a fight to keep my voice steady. “All my other midterms are this week. It wasn’t until Shelby was talking about the midterm today that I realized it’s the paper due this week. And not even next class. He said it has to be submitted online by midnight tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do. I’ve told you I can’t give you extensions unless it’s one of Shelby’s approved reasons.”

“Yeah, but—” I cut myself off, not quite willing to resort to any more begging than I’d already done.

Glitch studied me for another moment, then sighed and spun their chair to the left so they could grab a printed stack of papers stapled together. They twisted back to face me, elbows and forearms resting on their desk as they flipped to the second page.

“Has one of your parents died in the last month?” they asked.

“What? No.”

“A sibling?”

“I’m an only child.”

They flicked up an eyebrow. “Is that a recent development?”

Between the morbidity and the stress, it was almost funny, but I couldn’t force a laugh. “No. I’ve always been an only child.”

“Too bad.” They glanced at the sheet again. “Did you ever talk to student services?”

“About what?”

“Getting a personalized education plan.”

“Oh, do they give education plans to people who miss massive details like the actual due date for their midterm projects and start working on their case studies way too late because they procrastinate boring things?”

“Yes,” Glitch said. “When those people have ADHD.”

“Great. So that doesn’t help me at all.” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Why am I like this?”

“Well, I’m a law student, not a doctor, so I can’t help you there,” they said, their voice flat. “But you have about thirty hours before it’s due. You can get something done in that amount of time.”

I laughed. It sounded like a real laugh, even though there was a lump in my throat. “There’s no chance of that. My brain goes numb reading about this shit after, like, twenty minutes.”

“What about that friend of yours?”

“What friend?” I mumbled into my hands.

“The one who ‘helped’ you with that one case study you rocked. Or was that bullshit like I said it was?”

It took a beat for me to realize they were talking about JP, and another beat after that before I could speak over the clenching guilt in my stomach that came from thinking about JP.

Maybe if things were different, he would’ve helped. But now… there was no way. Even if I could bring myself to ask him, I doubted he’d want to see me.

“It was bullshit,” I lied. “What about if my apartment flooded and ruined my laptop?”

“ Did your apartment flood?” they asked.

“Not yet.”

“It’s not spelled out on my list, but purposely flooding your own apartment to get an extension probably won’t work,” they said.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance it’s possible?”

“Theoretically anything’s possible, but considering there’s a line here about extension approval being at Shelby’s discretion, I’m going to say those chances are close to zero.”

A prickling sensation started in my eyes. Even though I still had my face in my hands, I squeezed them shut before they could start stinging. “But if the alternative is definitely not getting my paper done in time, not-quite-zero is still better than nothing.”

They were silent for a moment, then drummed their hands on the desk. “How about something that has a slightly-better-than-not-quite-zero chance of helping you get your paper done in time?”

I frowned into my hands, then looked up at them. “What do you mean?”

Glitch studied me for a moment, then glanced at the closed office door behind me.

“Look,” they said, lowering their voice. “You’re not getting an extension. It’s just not happening. But I have a way you can get it done in time.”

“I’m not cheating, either,” I said. “I need to pass this class, but it won’t do any good if I get kicked out of university for plagiarizing.”

They shook their head. “You’d be doing the work yourself.”

“I just told you—”

“I can get you some study buddies.”

I stared at Glitch like they were crazy, because they were. “Study buddies. How the hell is finding someone to study with going to help me finish a paper in time?”

“Not study buddies. ‘Study buddies.’ Like… dexies?”

“The fuck is a dexy?”

Their mouth twisted to the side, holding back a smile. “You’re kind of a goody-two-shoes, aren’t you?”

“I have literally never been described that way.”

“Yeah, but—never mind.” They glanced at the door again, then reached under their desk and pulled out a backpack. I watched, still confused, until they unzipped the inside pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag full of pills.

Oh my God.

It was happening.

The thing they’d been warning me about since sixth grade, when teachers and parents and the cool kids on TV all tried to convince us that strangers would try to give us drugs.

Considering the situation, I probably shouldn’t have found it as borderline exciting as I did. Based on how many times I was told to say no to drugs, I’d assumed it would be a much more regular occurrence. And it wasn’t like I’d never been offered drugs before. But it was the first time I wasn’t at a nightclub or party or something.

“Study buddies,” Glitch said.

“What are they?” I asked.

“They would give you energy,” they said.

“So would cocaine,” I said. “And I don’t think that would help me finish my paper.”

They laughed. “Fair point, but it’s not that kind of energy. It’s more to help you get stuff done. Stay awake so you can finish your paper. That kind of thing.”

“And you think this would be more effective than flooding my apartment?”

They shrugged. “Less destructive, at least.”

“Unless I develop a crippling addiction.”

“True, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a doctor.”

“Also true, but even though I’d definitely be able to use a lot more than forty bucks, I’m not willing to sell you more than two of these.” They flattened the baggie on the desk. “Considering you didn’t know what a study buddy was in the first place, I feel like you don’t know many people who could sell you more.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “They’re twenty bucks each?”

“Yeah, but I accept tips, so you can round it up to fifty if you want.”

I laughed.

I had to.

Because I couldn’t actually be considering this. Like, yeah, I was desperate. I was panicking. I’d been panicking even before my Forensic Science and Law class because I had studied nowhere near as much as I’d wanted to. I’d convinced myself to do literally anything else on Friday while I was in Mont Tremblant. I’d spent Saturday and part of Sunday moping. And I’d spent almost all of Sunday night making up fake scenarios in my head about what would happen when I went to my dad’s engagement party.

I couldn’t help it. Something was off. For my dad to come to Ottawa, completely out of his way, to ask me to attend… the cynic in me said it was manipulation. That he’d known I would have a harder time saying no if I had to say it to his face.

But if that was the case, why hadn’t he asked for more?

Why had he done so much to make the party as unobtrusive as possible?

And why hadn’t he said anything about Reid?

That was the weirdest part of all of it. Sydney told me Reid had said he was pretty sure his balls had retracted so far into his body that he could feel them sitting under his lungs because my dad’s voice alone had been sharp enough to cut them off. Which was entirely expected for my dad. So expected, in fact, that I’d had a nightmare about it the previous night.

It had felt real. Too real, even after I’d woken up and reminded myself that I’d never had sex with Reid, Anne-Marie was not actually a robot my dad had developed to spy on me, and she didn’t have the ability to transform Reid into a wheel-shaped device that could teleport me from my apartment to a cavernous version of my dad’s foyer, which had turned into some kind of courtroom where he was the judge.

In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the rest of that block of cheese before going to bed.

But the weirdness aside, the rest of the dream had been me reliving Saturday morning when Anne-Marie had caught us over and over. It was convincing enough that I swore I could smell JP’s cologne, a spicy, woodsy scent with a hint of floral that was still distinctly masculine. When I woke up, my lips felt swollen, like he’d just been kissing them.

Because even though my mind had conjured up someone who looked like Reid, everything from my heart to my pussy knew the person I’d been dreaming about was JP.

That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that even my subconscious knew something was weird about my dad not saying anything about Reid answering my phone, and that fact had thrown me off enough that I hadn’t gotten around to studying the night before.

Which didn’t even matter because I’d been focusing on the wrong project, and now my TA was offering to sell me two pills so I had a chance to get my paper done in time.

“So?” Glitch said, raising their eyebrows at me. “Are you in? Forty bucks for two, fifty if you’re leaving a tip to make up for the pain in my ass you’ve been all semester. I accept cash or e-transfer.”

I started to say no.

Because of course I did. I was trained for this. I’d been to enough “Say No To Drugs” presentations and seen enough after-school-specials to know what I should do. I was supposed to put my hands on my hips and loudly tell Glitch that only real big losers bought drugs. Preferably while they wore stereotypical baggy jeans and a belt with spikes on it or something to show their villainous nature while I sported a modest outfit featuring frilly socks and an out-of-style side ponytail.

I was supposed to declare that I wasn’t the kind of impulsive person who bought drugs from someone.

That my mom and dad worked hard to make sure they raised me with strong morals—or my mom had, at least.

That I was not going to take drugs just because someone said they’d help me get my paper done in time, and that I didn’t need drugs to have fun.

But the thing was, I didn’t live in an after school special.

Strong morals or not, I was impulsive.

And I very well might need drugs to finish my paper on time.

“I’ll take them,” I said, and held out my hand.