"Hmm, I'm not sure," I say, trying not to smile, but one cracks my face. "I'm not sure you have enough fingers to count that high."

"Oh, I know I don't," he says. "Besides, my fingers will be busy doing other things tonight."

I'm dumbfounded.

Santino stands at the front of the classroom, droning on and on about something. I don't know. His voice is little more than a dull murmur as I stare at the paper on my desk.

I expected an F on this essay. It's incomplete, and impersonal, and everything Santino didn't want.

So why is there an A written at the top?

There's no other red. No comments, no corrections. No explanation. It's the first time it has ever happened to me. I don't know what to think. My eyes shift from my desk to Melody's, wondering if he took it easy on everyone this time around, but she got her coveted B, her essay marked up.

It makes no sense.

I stay quiet through the lecture, not raising my hand, not uttering a peep. When he dismisses us for the day, I stand up and put my bag on, clutching my paper.

"I'll meet you back at the room," I tell Melody. "I have to ask Santino a question."

She looks at me like I've sprouted a second head, like I've just said the world was going to end. She looks at me like I'm certifiably insane. Hell, maybe I am. But I have to ask him.

I don't understand.

I wait until most of my classmates are gone again before approaching his desk. He looks up at me, his expression blank, and doesn't speak. He looks like I'm the last person he wants to talk to.

"Sir, I just had a question about my paper."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Well, it's just that, I didn't get a chance to complete it, or type it like I was supposed to. It wasn't finished when I turned it in."

"I noticed," he says.

"Yeah, so I'm just curious... why the A?"

He stares at me. Hard. Like if he stares any harder, he might telepathically blow me up, obliterate me right in front of his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is icy. "Not good enough for you?"

"No, it's not that," I say quickly. "I just didn't expect..."

He lets out a sharp bark of laughter, not sounding amused in the least. "I'm sure you didn't."

My brow furrows.

"Look, Miss Reed, I don't know what you want me to say. If you'd rather have the F that paper deserves, I'll happily give it to you. But I'm quite certain, on the topic, you're well versed, even if you didn't put forth the effort to show it."

I feel like a fool. The man gives me an A and I'm questioning why instead of taking it and running. Whether it's deserved or not, he threw me a lifeline, giving me a fighting chance of scraping by this semester.

"Thank you," I say, clutching the paper as I back up a few steps.

"Don't mention it," he responds, looking away from me. "Ever again."

I nod, turning around and quickly getting out of there. The air is warm when I step outside, spring well upon us. It's so warm that even I feel the heat, and push the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt up to my elbows as I pull off my scarf. It's the last week of April, and in a mere two weeks classes will be over for the semester. I have a lot of work to do between now and then, but I feel calm, like maybe I won't screw it all up, after all.

Just two more weeks, and I can say goodbye to the professor known as Satan, never having to step foot in that godforsaken classroom again.

Two weeks. I can do two weeks.

I'm in Hell.

It's dressed up pretty to look like a renowned private university, but don't be fooled—it's Hell. I've been trapped in the deepest pit for going on fourteen days, the world pressing down upon me until I'm barely able to breathe. The toxic cloud of smoke from the raging inferno swept out from the gates of Santino's classroom and blanketed everything, suffocating everyone in its path. Judgment day is coming, and it's coming fast.

Finals.

I'm being dramatic, but it's hard to see the world clearly when you haven't had a full night sleep in two weeks. Everything's drowning in a haze of notes and practice tests.

"Okay, what about this one?" Melody says, holding up an index card with something in Latin written on it: modus tollens.

"Modus tollens," I say out loud, not sure if I even pronounced that right. "It's, uh, one of Voldemort's people in Harry Potter."

She laughs, spouting off a definition that makes just as little sense to me as the words themselves. I wave her away, motioning for her to show me the next one.

Probability.

"Oh, this one's easy," I say. "It's if something's, like, probable."

Another laugh.

Another flashcard.

Another wrong answer.

"I'm done," I say, falling back on the bed and draping my arm over my eyes, getting a whiff of something rancid as soon as I do. "Ugh, what stinks?"

"That would be you," Melody says, tossing the flashcards down.

"Gross." I grimace, begrudgingly rolling out of bed and seeking out a clean towel. "I'm going to go shower."

"Please do," she says. "Soak the stench away."

I flip her my middle finger as I trudge to the bathroom. I turn the water on hot, hoping the steam and heat will loosen some of the tension from my muscles. I stand under the spray and close my eyes as the water pelts me until I damn near fall asleep.