Professor Smith wrote something down on a sticky note and handed it to me. I looked down and saw that he had listed three other classes. British Literature, Creative Writing, and the Development of the Short Story.

“These are just some ideas when you’re putting your schedule together. They are good pre-requisites for transferring to a four-year school.”

I almost swallowed on my tongue. Four-year school? It was the carrot dangling in front of my face. The cheese at the end of the maze. Tantalizing but still so out of reach.

“I don’t think” I began, ready to give voice to the idiocy of these pipe dreams.

Professor Smith interrupted me. “Just think about it. No need to make a decision about it now.”

Think about it.

Yeah I could do that.

I tapped my essay with my finger. “Will do, Professor. Thank you,” I said and I meant it.

Maybe Professor Smith wasn’t so bad after all.

I left the Dunlop building in good spirits.

And then my phone rang.

Damn that phone!

“Miss McCallum?” a voice said on the other end.

“Hi Mr. Cox,” I said, trying not to snicker. It was my probation officer. Mr. James Cox. Mr. Cox to me. I couldn’t say his name without wanting to bust a gut. I was pretty sure his dickish demeanor had a direct correlation to the amount of teasing he received as a kid bearing the brunt of that unfortunate name.

He wasn’t the worst as far as probation officer go but he was still a jerk. I for one didn’t like having someone look over your shoulder every time I sneezed. I had to account for all of my X,Ys and Zs. I may have mentioned that I didn’t care for authority and Mr. Cox embodied everything I hated about people with power.

“I’m going to need you to head over to the Straight Lab office to submit some urine for a drug screening,” he informed me.

“I’m supposed to be at work in twenty minutes, Mr. Cox,” I argued.

“And this is mandatory as per your probation. Or perhaps you like the view inside a jail cell,” Mr. Cox said shortly.

I thought about giving him a sarcastic response but Mr. Cox was not a person who appreciated my dry sense of humor. Mostly because he had no sense of humor himself. His wife must hate him.

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I muttered, despising the man who jerked me on a string.

“Good. I’ll call you in a few days with the results. I hope for your sake they’re clean,” he warned. He didn’t need to tell me what would happen if they weren’t.

“I know, sir,” I snapped. I couldn’t help it. He was pushing the ass**le thing a little too far today.

“We all need a reminder now and then. Goodbye.” Mr. Cox had hung up.

I grumbled a few choice obscenities under my breath as I made my way to my car. I shouldn’t be so pissy about having to go take an impromptu piss test. It was my own stupidity for getting myself in this situation to begin with.

But it still sucked being tugged around like that.

I drove over to Straight Labs and went inside. I gave a humorless laugh to find Shane and Stu sat in the waiting room.

“The crew’s all here,” Shane grinned when he saw me. Stu didn’t look up from his phone but raised his hand in a lazy wave.

I checked in with the receptionist and went to have a seat across from my friends.

“So what were you doing when you were told to drop everything and come piss in a cup?” Shane asked.

I picked at my cuticles. “Uh, I was at home, no biggie,” I lied.

“Well, I was getting some seriously fantastic head. Nothing destroys a hard on like a call from your PO,” Shane grumbled.

“Nice,” I replied dryly.

“Oh, baby, don’t be jealous. You know I’ll always have a spot in my heart for that pretty mouth of yours,” Shane leered and I rolled my eyes.

“You coming to the party tonight?” Stu asked, still not looking up from his phone.

“Didn’t know there was one,” I said. I had no plans to go out tonight. I was exhausted and had a lot of reading before Thursday’s class.

“I’m wounded, Ells! It’s my birthday! How could you forget?” Shane pouted.

“Sorry, Shane. I forgot,” I apologized though it wasn’t surprising I forgot his birthday. Stu and Shane weren’t the remember-their-birthdays kind of friends.

“You haven’t gone out with us in ages. What’s up with that?” Stu asked, looking up finally. I didn’t want to look at him. There was something about his eyes that always made my blood run cold.

“I’ve just been busy,” I responded lamely.

Before Stu could say anything else he was called back to give his urine sample.

“This better not take too long. I need to get back to my apartment. I’ve got things to take care of,” Shane said, grabbing his crotch.

I made a gagging noise. “God, Shane. Enough with the visuals. So who’s the lucky girl?” I teased.

I wasn’t expecting him to flush red and refuse to meet my eyes.

Huh.

“Shane…come on, tell me!” I goaded.

“Uh…” Shane stuttered.

I had never known Shane to be so secretive about his conquests. He was the type of guy to kiss and tell everyone. Including some grandmothers and a priest or two.

I raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious.

“Shane…” I said, giving him my best tell-me-or-I’ll-twist-your-junk look.