Chapter 1 Extra Credit 1

• Extra Credit 1
• [MILA]
• “I am highly disappointed with how the result of this test came out,” Professor Reid said as he stood in front of the lecture room after distributing the test results. “I took my time teaching this course, and I said to let me know if there was anything you guys didn't understand, but you all reassured me, telling me you got everything.”
• “I was expecting all of you to pass this test, but 40% of you failed the test, and that does not reflect well on you. You should have studied harder if you were hesitant to ask questions, but you didn't do that. You failed the test, and it will affect your grades since there is no time for a make-up test. Do better in your exams. Good day,” he concluded and exited the lecture room without waiting for us to say anything.
• Chaos ensued as soon as he left, and everybody started to check their test slips. I took a deep breath as I picked mine up and opened it. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the grade scrawled at the top of the paper in red ink—43/100. Big, bold, and impossible to ignore.
• “Shit. I'm so screwed,” I cussed under my breath as I hit my forehead with the slip repeatedly. “How could I let this happen?”
• There was no fucking way this was my score. This was one of the mandatory classes for my program, and I couldn't afford to fail it—not when it could affect my scholarship. My life would be ruined if I lost my scholarship. I couldn't afford to let that happen.
• “I have to do something about this,” I mumbled to myself as I thought of what I could do.
• I stood up, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and I walked out of the lecture room with my test slip in hand. I stopped in front of a door, and I knocked once.
• “The door is open,” a deep, masculine voice said from behind the door, and I released a shaky breath before twisting the doorknob.
• I stepped into the office and slowly closed the door behind me, my eyes fixated on the man sitting behind the desk.
• Professor Reid. The youngest professor in the entire school—and easily the most intimidating. He had the kind of face that belonged on a billboard, not buried in lecture notes—sharp jaw, perfectly tousled dark hair, and eyes that made you forget your own name if you stared too long. Everyone knew him. Everyone talked about him. Girls fantasized. Guys envied. And now I was standing in front of him, holding a test score that could wreck my future.
• “Good afternoon, Professor Reid,” I spoke as I stood in front of his desk. His attention was on the laptop in front of him, and he didn't as much as spare me a glance.
• “How can I help you?” he asked in that same deep voice, and it felt like my knees were about to go weak. I had no idea if it was because of how nervous I was or the effect his voice had on me in an enclosed space.
• “Uhm... Erm... I have issues with...my test. And I...can't afford to have that...” I said, stuttering as the words came out of my mouth.
• Professor Reid's fingers stopped and hovered over his keyboard, and he finally looked at me. He raised his head, his grey eyes keeping me in place. “You would have to string together a decipherable sentence if you want me to help you,” he uttered coldly as he folded his hands on the table.
• Oh my God. Oh my God. “I can do this,” I thought to myself as I inhaled and exhaled.
• “I have issues with my test, Professor. And I can't afford to have that because I'm on a scholarship,” I rushed out, and he raised a brow.
• “You mean you failed the test,” he said, and I nodded, feeling embarrassed. “You should have asked questions in class if the course was unclear to you, or you should have studied on your own. Then you wouldn't have failed it.”
• I couldn't tell if he was annoyed at me, but I knew he wasn't pleased because of the way he was staring at me with cold eyes.
• “I did all of those things, Professor. I was expecting a good score, but I saw 43/100 on my slip,” I responded.
• “The score is a reflection of how much you prepared, then. You should do better next time,” he stated, and it felt like he was done with the conversation. Why was he so cold?
• “Is there anything you could do to help me, Professor? My life would be ruined if I lose my scholarship,” I said, almost pleading.
• “What exactly did you come here for, Miss–?” he asked, and I could tell he was asking for my name.
• “Miss Rowe. Mila Rowe,” I supplied, and he nodded once.
• “Well, Miss Rowe, what do you want me to do about your failed test? You should have done a better job if you knew your scholarship was at stake. All I can see here is someone who doesn't take their studies seriously,” he said, and I could feel tears burning the back of my eyes. Was he being mean to me or was this just how he was?
• “I... I don't know what I want, Professor Reid. But I would appreciate it if you could help me in any way you can. I'm a struggling student, and this scholarship is my only chance at getting a proper education... Please, just help me this once, Professor... I'm begging you,” I pleaded, almost going on my knees.
• Professor Reid sighed as he rubbed his temples, and he leaned back in his chair. “Begging me won't do anything, Miss Rowe. What I can tell you now, though, is that you should prepare well for the exams so you can maintain your grades, and at least, try to keep your scholarship. That is all I can tell you.”
• “We both know that won't work, Professor. You know how strict the school is about grades, especially when it comes to scholarship students,” I said.
• Professor Reid looked at me with a deep frown on his face, and if he wasn't annoyed before, he definitely was now. “You know what, Miss Rowe. I don't think I can be of help to you. Your grade is a result of how much work you put into your education, and I can obviously see it's very little. If you expected that you would come to my office to just beg me, and I would change the grades, then you're terribly wrong. I won't be doing such a thing. Your test result is set in stone.”
• “But, Professor... Please... There must be something you can do... I'm begging you. I'll do anything...”
• “There's nothing you can do that'll fix your grade, Miss Rowe. You just have to accept it as it is,” he said as he returned to typing on his laptop. “Now, if you could leave my office, I would appreciate it. I have work to do.”
• “Please, Professor... I really need your help,” I pleaded once more, but it seemed like he had checked out of the conversation.
• “Leave my office, Miss Rowe. I don't want to call security on you,” he said without raising his head, and I sighed in defeat, my shoulder sagging as I looked down at my feet.
• It seemed like he was hell-bent on not helping me. I might as well leave his office. My face burned in embarrassment as I walked out of the room without looking back, and I didn't stop walking till I got to my hotel room.
• I squeezed my test slip and flung my backpack to the floor. I got on my bed and screamed into my pillow as a lone tear rolled down my face.
• No. No. No. I couldn't give up. Not like this. And I certainly couldn't let one class affect my scholarship. That couldn't happen.
• I was going to return to Professor Reid's office, and this time, I would make sure he helped me with my grade.
• I eventually dragged myself to the bathroom, peeled off my clothes, and stepped under the spray. As hot water ran down my body, my eyes flickered to the mirror. I stared at my naked body—curves that I had always considered a distraction. But maybe...maybe for the first time ever, this body could be useful.