Chapter 52

Dana got her wish on Friday afternoon, but she didn’t find the other student in any of the places where she’d been looking all week long. Instead, she found her in the one place she least expected.

In one of her classes.

On a whim she had signed up for a Women’s Studies class whose credits would also count toward her English degree. She didn’t know anything about women’s studies, really, but the class was cross-listed and sounded interesting: French Women Writers. Dana had hesitated—would the class be taught in French? If so, she was screwed; she’d taken four years of Latin in high school, enough to test out of taking a foreign language in college. Her knowledge of French was limited to the few random words that had entered English, such as rendezvous,RSVP, and the origin of using the term “mayday” as a cry for help.

But the course description stated that the class was taught in English, which was a plus. It was taught during a three-hour window on a Friday afternoon when Dana didn’t have another class scheduled, another plus. It was reading-intensive, which she liked, and would count toward her major, also good. The one thing that sealed the deal, though, was that when she called in to register for classes, this course had still been open. Of course—who in their right mind would’ve taken it? So Dana signed up and hoped she didn’t need to drop it after the first class.

When she walked into the classroom on Friday afternoon, she took a quick look around as she slid into the first desk closest to the door. With her back to the wall, she could watch her fellow students and the professor at the same time, and still manage to make it out first when class was over. Which was good, since the class ran from 1:30 to 4:15, and her next shift at the library started at 4:30. She had to be across campus and clocked in, ready to work, in record time. Hopefully the professor wouldn’t be the long-winded type who liked to keep students after class should’ve let out.

If so, at least Dana was close enough to the door to sneak out when she needed to.

As she had expected in a Women’s Studies class, most of the students were female. She didn’t know any of them, and wasn’t surprised there weren’t more; it was two minutes until class was about to begin and only eight students were in the room. More disturbing was the fact that the professor wasn’t there yet. Which meant they would most likely run over their allotted three hours. Great

Then shewalked in, the girl from the library. The curls were pulled back in a loose ponytail, held at her nape with a scrunchie, but a few had escaped to drift around her face. She chatted with an older woman Dana could tell was the professor just by looking—something in the loose pants, maybe, or the oversized sweater, or perhaps it was the reading glasses hanging from a jeweled chain around her neck. Whatever it was, Dana pegged her right, as she made a beeline for the desk at the front of the room, the girl from the library at her side. Dana tried to listen in to what they were saying and heard a rapid-fire conversation in French.

Way to throw the curve for the rest of us, she thought, impressed.

Dana stared at the girl from the library, trying to catch her eye, but she didn’t look around, didn’t bother assessing the rest of the class the way Dana had upon entering the room. Instead, when she finished talking with the professor, she took the closest available seat, which just happened to be the one beside Dana. Seizing the opportunity, Dana leaned over and said, “You speak French.”

Obvious, much?Did that come out sounding as stupid as she thought it had? God.

The girl threw her a contemptuous look. “Well, duh. It’s my major.”

“Really?” Again, spoken before she could stop herself; of course it was, it hadto be. Who made up something so weird?

Along those lines, who majored in French? What did anyone do with a degree in that?

Trying to save face, Dana leaned over to tell her, “I’m English Lit. Well, no, I’m Dana, but I’m majoring in—”

“Alright, class?” the professor interrupted.

With a final glance Dana’s way, the girl from the library hissed, “Shh!”

The professor continued, “Let’s get started. I’m Madame Sarkozi. Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” the girl beside Dana replied.