Page 28 of Wicked Little Secret
I lose the air in my lungs. When I try to inhale some more, it feels like I’ve been rendered permanently breathless. It’s the giddy sense of excitement that fizzes inside me. The awareness that I and I alone have his full attention in this moment.
“I… I guess it’s more of a statement than a question,” I stammer seconds later. He folds his hands on his desk and peers up at me with a new level of interest. As if he’s searching my expression for context clues.
But I’m more distracted by his hands. Clean, well taken care of hands. Large hands with prominent veins that protrude on the back as he clasps both together. Strong and sturdy. Perfect for holding the heavy books I’m sure he keeps his nose in.
…perfect for holding, grabbing other things…
What has gotten into me? Why do I suddenly feel like a silly schoolgirl with a crush?
I lick my lips and force my dry voice box to work. “You stated that economic causation does not negate malum in se criminality.”
“Yes… and?”
“I… I disagree,” I say, feeling both lightheaded and exhilarated under his microscope. “Research has shown that crime is closely linked to economic factors like work and education. If the opportunity gain outweighs the adverse conditions the individual is in, then some would argue it’s warranted.”
“That’s a mighty wordy way to say you think it’s fine to steal sometimes,” he quips.
Ouch.
I press on anyway. “The same research says deterrence is the best solution to these economic factors?—”
“I don’t remember that particular aspect being part oftoday’s discussion, Miss Oliver,” he interrupts, canting his head slightly to the side. “The discussion was regarding malum in se. Acts morally wrong, therefore they are universally frowned upon by society and considered inherently criminal. Theft is widely recognized as one of these. Regardless of the reasoning.”
“But think of a starving mother and her child?—”
“That was not part of the discussion.” He snaps shut his satchel and then pops to his feet so fast, so aggressively, I take my own step back. He’s no longer hiding behind a veil of curiosity and study. That’s vanished for open irritation. The same he’d had the morning I spilled coffee on him. “Next time you get the urge to add your two cents, you might want to make sure it was asked for in the first place. Perhaps stop trying so damn hard to be the smartest student in the room. It won’t do you any favors.”
He strides past me in a blur that’s as dismissive as it is humiliating. My skin prickles in the aftermath, the warmth like a horrible sunburn. I can do nothing but suffer in the wave of humiliation that passes. The sinking knowledge I’ve made a total fool of myself.
Here I was, trying to impress him, and he couldn’t care less. He wasannoyedby it.
My hands come up to my face as I shudder out a breath and chastise myself for being so dumb.
Did I think I’d be his favorite student? Did I think he’d give praise for my opinion?
I drag my feet every step out of the classroom, dreading the fact that I have another class after lunch, which means I can’t run home to wallow in private. I’m stepping out of the door when I almost collide with someone else approaching.
“Oh,” says Dean Rothenberg, tugging on the lapel of his business jacket. He peers down his skinny, crooked nose atme. “You’re coming out of Professor Adler’s class. I trust he’s inside?”
“He’s not, Dean. You just missed him.”
“I see. You look familiar. First year law student? Your family’s alma mater, I take it?” He peers at me up and down as if trying to think of the few prestigious Black families at Castlebury that he knows of.
Little does he realize, I’m fully aware of whoheis, and how his father, the former dean of the school, played a role in ruining Mom’s life…
My pulse picks up again, giving a slow shake of my head. “Not exactly. I’m hoping to be the first in my family to graduate law school at Castlebury.”
“Ah, excellent. Well… carry on. If you see Professor Adler before I do, please let him know I was looking for him.”
Dean Rothenberg spares me no other attention as he’s off down the hall in the direction he’s come from. I wait ’til I’m sure he’s out of earshot, then mumble under my breath.
“I would if Professor Adler didn’t hate me.”
My third week of law school ismarginallyless disastrous than the first two weeks. I’m on time for every class, well-read and well-prepared. I strike a balance between participating in the class discussions and not being a complete know-it-all like I usually would be.
The workload is doable so long as you stay on top of the reading and anticipate what could be coming next.
Where Professor Griner from torts is fascinating with his anecdotes about his days as a personal injury lawyer, Professor Burrows is like a cyborg. It wouldn’t at all besurprising to learn he has the entirety of the United States Constitution memorized letter for letter.