Chapter 65 On me?

Chapter 65 On me?
The air in the biology lab was cold and smelled like cleaning spray. It was a sharp, clean smell that usually helped me focus. I sat on a tall metal stool, staring at a microscope.

Around me, other students were whispering and clicking their glass slides into place.

I was a senior Physiology student. For four years, my life had been about heart rates, muscle fibers, and chemical reactions.

My father had already picked out my medical school. He had donated a new wing to the university’s hospital, and he expected me to become a top surgeon at a Vance-owned clinic.

But today, I wasn't thinking about surgery. I was looking at a research paper on my desk.

"Elena? Are you finished with the cell count?"
I looked up. My lab partner, Layla, was leaning over her own microscope. She was a brilliant student who worked three jobs just to pay for her books. She didn't have a father who owned hospitals. She just had her brain and a lot of coffee.

"Almost," I whispered. "I’m just... distracted."
Layla sat back and crossed her arms. "Is it the hockey game? Or is it the fact that Dr. Aris is coming around to check our final research topics?"

Dr. Aris was the head of the department. He was also a man who played golf with my father every Sunday.

"It’s the topic," I said. I pushed the research paper toward her. "My dad wants me to do my final thesis on Private Luxury Healthcare Models. He wants me to show how high-end clinics can make more money by picking specific patients."

Layla made a face like she had just smelled something rotten. "That’s not science, El. That’s accounting. You’re a Physiology major. You’re supposed to be studying how the human body works, not how a wallet works."

"I know," I sighed. "But he’s already told Dr. Aris that’s what I’m doing. If I change it now, it looks like I’m Rebelling. And if I Rebel, he stops paying for the next semester. I’ll be stuck with a huge bill and no degree."

Layla looked at the paper, then at me. "You know what I’m doing my project on? It’s a study on Rural Health Access. It’s about how to get basic medicine to people who live four hours away from a city. It’s hard, and there’s no money in it, but it actually saves lives."

She leaned in closer. "You’ve been helping Jaxson with his recovery, right? You’ve been studying his concussion and his muscle tears. You know more about sports medicine and physical therapy than anyone in this room. Why don't you do your project on that?"

I looked down at my notebook. I had pages of notes on Jaxson’s recovery. I had tracked his heart rate, his balance, and how his muscles reacted to the ice. I loved it. It felt like solving a puzzle. It wasn't about money; it was about making a person whole again.

"I can't," I said. "Dr. Aris will tell my father."

"Let him," Layla said. "You’re twenty-one. You’re the one who has to sit in the lab for ten hours a day. Do you want to spend those hours thinking about luxury waiting rooms, or do you want to spend them figuring out how to get an athlete back on their feet?"

The lab door opened, and Dr. Aris walked in. He was wearing a white coat that was perfectly white, too white for someone who actually did work. He walked from table to table, nodding at students' notes.

When he got to our table, he smiled at me. It was that "family friend" smile that always made me feel like a child.

"Ah, Elena," he said, tapping my notebook with his pen. "I spoke to your father this morning. He’s very excited about your project on the Vance Clinic models. It’s a strong choice for your medical school application."

I felt a lump in my throat. I looked at Layla. She didn't say anything, but she gave me a small nod.

I looked at the microscope. I thought about Jaxson sitting on the bench, his head in his hands, wondering if he would ever play again. I thought about the way his eyes lit up when I told him his reflex tests were improving.

"Actually, Dr. Aris," I said. My voice was small, but it was clear. "I’ve decided to change my topic."

The smile on Dr. Aris’s face didn't disappear, but it froze. "Change it? To what?"

"I want to do a study on Neurological Recovery in High-Impact Athletes," I said. I opened my notebook to the pages of notes I had taken on Jaxson. "I want to focus on how we can improve the safety of the game and how to speed up brain recovery without using expensive, private drugs."

Dr. Aris’s eyes went to the notes. He saw the name "Miller" at the top of the page. His face went red.

"Elena, this is... this is a very narrow topic," he said, his voice dropping so the other students wouldn't hear. "And it’s quite personal, isn't it? Your father was very clear about the direction he wanted you to take. He wants you to focus on the business of medicine. This 'sports' stuff is for trainers, not surgeons."

"I don't think I want to be a surgeon in a private clinic, Doctor," I said. "I want to be a doctor who actually helps people who have nothing else. Like the players who don't have a Vance family to pay their bills."

Dr. Aris stepped back. He looked at me like I was a stranger. "I will have to call your father, Elena. You know that. He is expecting a certain level of... cooperation."

"I know," I said. "But this is my degree. And these are my notes. I’m doing the research on athletes. If the department doesn't like it, I’ll find a different department."

Dr. Aris didn't say another word. He just turned and walked to the next table.

I spent the next four hours in the library basement. This was the science floor. It was filled with huge books about the brain and the nervous system.

I worked harder than I ever had. I didn't think about the money. I didn't think about the car or the apartment. I just thought about the science. I read about how the brain heals after a hit. I read about new ways to test for concussions on the sidelines.

It was fascinating. For the first time in four years, I wasn't just memorizing facts to please my dad.

I was learning because I wanted to know the answer.