To Catch The Falling Stars

Late Again

Max Saint skimmed through the PowerPoint menu, the open file on his laptop ready to be displayed on the projection screen with the click of a button. As he went through the familiar motions of setting up the day’s presentation, he scanned the room from his peripheral, indifferently observing as the last of his students trickled into the lecture hall. He took note of the numbers at the bottom right corner of the computer screen and compared them with those on his wrist. The young professor was very meticulous about time. Once the clock struck nine, he would silently begin taking attendance, marking down those who had not yet crossed the threshold of his domain by the time the larger hand reached the twelve. Then, at precisely ten after, he would lock the doors. Any unfortunate soul that late would find themselves barred, unable to gain entrance into the class. It was a harsh lesson many had learned over the years, but a necessary evil nonetheless, and Professor Saint felt he was very lenient and merciful, considering.

As per school policy, tardiness was permanently recorded in the university’s online database, where the professor, academic advisor, and even the dean could access such files for review. There was a strict criterion regarding truancies, and unexcused absences could have a significant impact on an individual’s eligibility for financial aid and scholarships. Most of the wealthier students, whose parents were often alumni and financial patrons of the esteemed institution, didn’t have to worry about such things. It hardly surprised Max anymore that these pretentious, entitled youths were, more often than not, content to merely skate by on barely adequate grades and the good graces of Dean Cohen, afforded to them at the expense of their parents’ wallets. Still, it bothered him on principle to witness such a blatant disregard for the privileged status which allowed them to obtain a practically free education. Not only were they squandering their academic potential, indulging in party after party instead; they were also throwing away the chance to truly liberate themselves and venture beyond the safety net of mommy and daddy dearest.

Since his teaching career at Canterville University began nearly four years ago, Max had learned that there was a fine line between public perception and reality. It was true that a tardy student had the potential to quickly become a failing student, which did not reflect well on the university, and subsequently, on the faculty. But what things really boiled down to was how much money the school was getting in return for their investment in the students. Which is why the rich could get away with poor performance, while those who worked hard to receive funding for their education were often thrown under a bus should anything be even slightly amiss with their track records. And the number of the former group drastically outweighed the latter. When the professor began to suspect a pattern, he would keep a more watchful eye, but for the most part, he rarely intervened any more. If his students wanted to take for granted the time and resources provided for them to ensure success, far be it from him to stop them. It was always their choice whether they wanted to pass or fail his class. He would bend the rules for no one, and he felt no pity for those who chose not to make the simplest effort to arrive on time. Disorganization, improperly set alarms, missed or delayed transportation… he had heard it all. Run of the mill mishaps that could be easily prevented with just an ounce of attentiveness and anticipation.

One student in particular had recently crossed his radar. Unfortunately for her, she was about to be late. Again. Rae Jakksen practically flew through the door just under eight minutes past nine. She nearly tripped, barely regaining her balance and very much looking like the awkward tomboy she was as she did so. Messy bun, oversized sweatshirt, faded jeans, worn out sneakers and all… she was the epitome of what disorganization looked like. Professor Saint had already begun making his daily announcements when he paused, all eyes turning in her direction to follow her intently as she crept along the wall. Her face flushed to the tips of her ears. This was not good. Professor Saint's gaze was the most piercing of them all. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if she hadn’t already been tardy multiple times this month, and the frequency only seemed to be increasing as of late. Hurriedly scanning the room, she found her best friend, Chad, discreetly motioning her over with two fingers out to his side for her to see. Rae climbed the stairs to the fourth row as he removed his backpack from the seat next to him, allowing her to slink into the chair, place her books on the desk, and gingerly lower her bag to the floor. She kept her head low to avoid eye contact with anyone at all costs. The professor soon turned back to the projection screen, disregarding her presence and bringing her relief… for the moment. As she stooped to gather her pen and journal from her book bag, Chad silently swatted at the air in front of her to get her attention. She shot him a look, then sat back up and opened her textbook, ignoring his gestures as she prepared to take notes. But Chad was not so easily dissuaded. He quickly flipped through his notebook and scrawled something on a blank page towards the back. When an opportunity arose for him to catch her eye again, he leaned over and tapped his pen on the edge of her desk, then pointed to the note for her to read. What happened? Rae set her jaw and stared at him down, mouthing a gritted warning in frustration. Not now. Later. Chad slumped back in his seat and let out an exaggerated sigh, prompting Rae to shake her head and roll her eyes skyward. Thankfully, Professor Saint was fully engaged in his lecture and didn’t seem to notice the interaction between the two.

The course, Psychology of Religious Based Culture, was an hour and a half long. Not usually too strenuous or unbearable. The set up was like clockwork. The professor would talk through the points outlined on the power slides, which were so incredibly detailed and well planned out that one could simply take pictures and have sufficient study material to pass exams. Of course, there was a strict no phone/device policy in his class to discourage students from taking the easy way out. It could be quite boring and monotonous, going through the same routine day in and day out. Most of the students feverishly jotted down the notes, word for word from each slide, mindlessly so, not even bothering to pay attention to his verbal expansions on the topics at hand. There was a time when that troubled him. When he cared about his students’ academic potential. When he naively thought he could help make a difference. But after a while, you see so many of the same faces and eyes staring blankly at you, and you learn to w**d out the slackers, the kiss-asses, and the rare few that actually applied themselves. Beyond that, most of these kids were just… there. And he found he couldn’t really be bothered to care anymore; his passion having abandoned him long ago. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t normally give a second thought to students who were repeat tardy offenders. They had chosen their paths; it wasn’t part of his job to try and steer them clear of the consequences.

The thing was, Rae wasn’t a normal student. She was actually quite exceptional. Brilliant intellect. Excellent grades. Always produced quality work. She was one of the few at the university who’d endeavored to go through the five-year combined BS/MS psychology program. And up until recently, she’d been on the fast track to achieve valedictorian. Which is why Saint did take notice when she suddenly stopped applying herself as hard. His disappointment and concern only grew when she started showing up late to class. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Professor Saint felt he could not just let this one slide. He couldn’t stand to see a student as promising as her throw everything away for heaven only knows what reason. It was almost insulting to him. She had the brains and willpower to become somebody extraordinary; a pioneer and powerful influence in the academic world, if she would just refocus and set her priorities straight. He made up his mind. He was going to speak to her. He was going to put the fear of god in her if he had to. But, dammit, he was going to make her see what a grave mistake she was making by not living up to her potential. This time, he would make a difference, even if just with one student. Everyone was quick to pack up their things and shuffle out of the room once class was dismissed. Rae gathered her books and bag and descended the stairs with Chad hot on her trail. She was hoping to make a fast getaway, but as she neared the door, which was effectively blocked by a chaotic mob, she froze to the sound of Professor Saint calling her back.

“Miss Jakksen. May I have a word, please?”

She pivoted on her heel and swallowed dryly before giving a small nod.

“Of course, Professor.”

He gestured for her to take a seat in the front row. She turned back to Chad, who gave her a sympathetic look and mouthed sorry as he cautiously backed out of the room and closed the door with a soft click. Great. Could her Friday get any worse? She instantly cringed inside at the thought of jinxing herself, then awkwardly ambled over to the nearest chair. Sucking in air through her teeth, she let her bag drop to the floor as she sank into the chair. Professor Saint took his time, shuffling papers and shutting down his laptop. She dared not look up at him. There was a pregnant pause, and Rae began chewing at her lip and fidgeting, a nervous habit she’d never been able to shake.

“I’m sure you already know what I’d like to discuss with you.”

She snapped her head up to see that the professor was now leaning against his desk directly across from her. His arms and legs were crossed and the intense expression on his face made her wish she could shrink until she disappeared. He waited for her to respond before continuing. She faintly nodded and stuttered, her voice shallow and arid.

“Y-yes… sir.”

Professor Saint relaxed a bit, his eyes softening slightly as he let out a heavy sigh.

“This is the third time this week, Miss Jakksen. We have class three days a week… and you’ve been late every single time.”

“Yes. I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Professor.”

Saint nodded his head and hummed thoughtfully as he pushed away from the desk and came to stand just a few feet away. Rae shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Can you explain to me why someone who has been a model student for the past four years is suddenly struggling so significantly?”

Rae’s eyes fell to her hands, which were settled in her lap. She willed herself not to start flexing her fingers and popping her knuckles or picking at her cuticles. More nasty habits. She was a wound-up ball of anxiety in one on one situations like this.

“No, sir. Not really. There’s just…”

Her words tapered off and Saint inclined his head towards her, his tone firm, but not unkind.

“Yes?”

“There’s just been a lot going on lately. That’s all…”

Rae finally lifted her gaze to meet his. He seemed to be searching her eyes for something. Further explanation, no doubt. Or, perhaps he was sizing her up, deciding whether or not she was worth his time and effort. Whatever the case may be, he was certainly intimidating. After a moment, he seemed to lose interest in reading her, and adjusted his stance.

“I see. Well… I don’t pretend to know what goes on with my students outside of the classroom, but I won’t lie to you. I’m deeply concerned. It’s not just your attendance that has suffered. You’ve barely passed the last two quizzes. And the most recent paper you turned in was significantly under par in comparison to the work you’ve submitted in the past.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll work to fix that.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled wearily.

“Help me understand. You’re smart. You have your whole future ahead of you. Why would you suddenly just give up on achieving the best? I honestly don’t get it.”

Rae bristled, then cast her eyes to the ground and dug one of her nails into the palm of her hand.

“I am doing my best, professor. Like I said… there’s been a lot going on.”

Max shook his head in disappointment. He was getting nowhere with this approach. He needed to get through to her. He needed her to understand the situation she was currently in. Crouching on his knees so that he was now at eye level with her, he rested his clasped hands on the edge of the desk. She reflexively drew back at the sudden invasion of space, warily eyeing him as her muscles tensed. He immediately took note of her unease and leaned back a bit and schooled his expression in an attempt to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Rae… I can’t help you if you don’t work with me here. This is your last year before graduating and you need to make it count. Do you realize how many students have attempted the accelerated psychology program and haven’t made it all the way through? You are easily ten times better than any of them. I’ve had the opportunity to see a good bit of your work, and I know what you’re capable of. You have everything you need to succeed.”

Rae didn’t respond, unsure of what to say. He continued.

“If there’s something going on that’s holding you back, you can come talk to me anytime. And if you’re struggling… if you need tutoring or advice, my door is always open. You’re not a C, or D, or even a B student, Rae. Don’t let your potential go to waste. You’re better than this.”

Rae pursed her lips and nodded. He was right, of course. She had been holding back, despite the immense effort she was putting in to stay afloat. Letting out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, she finally spoke up.

“Thank you, Professor Saint. I understand. I’ll work harder to pull my grades up.”

Max shook his head and slowly stood up.

“It’s not about working harder, Miss Jakksen. It’s about working smarter. You can do this, if you choose to reapply yourself. Just focus on the material bit by bit each day, get to class on time, and you’ll do fine.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Rae offered a weak smile, and he returned it with a polite nod, gesturing for her to get up and gather her things.

“You’re welcome... you may go now. I expect to see you bright and early Monday morning.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

Max sauntered back towards his desk without another word, busying himself once again as Rae quickly slung her bag over her shoulder and left the room. Chad was leaning against the wall just outside, waiting for her. She beamed at him. He always waited for her.

“So… what happened? You looked like a tornado hit you when you swan dived through the door.”

Rae pinched Chad’s bicep, effectively wiping the smirk off his face.

“Ow! That was uncalled for… and rude!”

She let out an airy laugh and hooked her arm through his as they began walking down the hall.

“It was absolutely called for! And I did not swan dive… I’m not nearly graceful enough for that.”

Chad rolled his eyes as she teasingly stuck out her tongue.

“Seriously though. What happened this time?”

Rae sighed tiredly.

“Sally’s been acting up again. The old girl’s been causing me a lot of trouble lately. She’s a pain in the a*s sometimes.”

“You know, at this point, it would probably be cheaper for you to just buy a new car than to keep doing patch jobs on that crappy junker.”

“Hey now! Don’t talk about my baby like that! She’s part of the family. Besides, you know there’s no way I’d get approved for a car loan. And even if I did, I couldn’t afford it.”

She shook her head as they leisurely made their way out of the building.

“As long as she’s still running, I can get by.”

Chad bobbed his head and switched the subject.

“If you say so. Oh. Congratulations, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For setting a new record. Seven minutes and forty-two seconds. That’s the closest one yet! And, you miraculously managed to align the temporal flow of the universe with the sacred power of numerical multiples. I’m impressed!”

Rae abruptly came to a halt, causing Chad to nearly lose his balance as her arm dragged him backwards like a bungee cord.

“Wait a second. You time me when I’m late? Who does that?!”

Chad shrugged.

“It’s a game I like to play. Passes the time. Literally.”

Rae unlinked her arm and playfully slapped him in the back of the head. He grimaced.

“Oh. My. God, Chad. You’re such a dork! I think you have undiagnosed OCD or something. We really need to find you a new hobby.”

“No thanks. I enjoy playing ‘High-stakes Musical Chairs’. It’s my favorite game, right after ‘Where in the World is Rae Jakksen?’”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I just thought of a new game for you. It’s called ‘Clue: Who Killed Chad Andrews?’”

“Well, that sounds boring. We both already know who the killer is. Shortest. Game. Ever.”

“Smartass.”

“Thank you! I try my best. So… are you ready to go get some chicken and waffles?”

“At ten-thirty in the morning? I’ve already had breakfast, haven't you?”

“Well, you see, there’s this little thing called brunch...”

Rae glared at him.

“What?! Chicken and waffles are universal. You can eat them whenever, wherever, and however the hell you want. Besides… it’s Friday. Fridays are always our “treat yo self” days. And I’m gonna treat you to some good ol’ fashioned comfort food before we have to check back into reality and sit through another ten-hour lecture.”

Rae shook her head and laughed.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“I knew you’d come to your senses eventually. Time for the best chicken and waffles this side of campus. Well, the best chicken and waffles in all of Canterville, really. But, hey! Who’s keeping track of that, right?”

Rae giggled again, reattaching herself to him at the elbow as they continued toward student parking.

“Just shut up and take me to brunch already. You think we can find a place that serves virgin mimosas?”

“That, my dear, is called orange juice. And since when did you become so responsible and… boring?”

Rae snorted.

“When the bills started piling up and I had to start working on a degree to get a decent job. You know, so I don’t get kicked out onto the streets.”

“Pfft. That’s hardly a reason not to enjoy one drink with me before noon. Who needs to be sober for American Literature anyways?”

“And who’s planning on driving us to work later? You or me?”

Chad wrinkled his nose in response.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Come on, then. Let’s go get Sally.”

Rae tugged on Chad’s sleeve and quickened her pace towards the parking lot. Chad cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“Onward, to the Jakksen mobile!”

Rae giggled, agreeing enthusiastically.

“Indeed. Brunch, here we come!”