After what seems like a small eternity, Harlan finally writes a whopping 72 percent on the top of Derek's paper. I'm not sure if that makes me feel cocky or incredibly nervous. It is impossible to navigate my own feelings when Harlan mostly just makes me feel like my organs are swimming freely inside of my body.
Agonizingly nervous, I hold my breath as he flips through my essay. His eyes narrow as he counts the pages, and gives it a lengthy preliminary skim. He clears his throat before speaking, and my stomach does a somersault deep in my gut.
"I assigned eight pages for this essay. What makes you think I have the time or interest to read ten?" His lips pursed ever so slightly, Harlan turns to look at me, his eyes so scrutinizing under his glasses that they practically burn a red, flamin
