Chapter 10

Dr. Conlon is takinghis sweet time grading those exams. Honestly, this is sadistic. How can he make us wait so long? I'm going to get an ulcer at this rate.

After classes are over for the day, I find myself wandering in the direction of Dr. Conlon's office. I don't have anything in mind, exactly. I'm not going there to beg him to tell me my grade or anything.

His office is just around the corner from the anatomy lab, and I wonder if he can smell the formaldehyde from there. Of course, he's probably used to the smell by now. Maybe it smells good to him. He probably likes it. You'd almost have to if you have a career in anatomy.

The door to Dr. Conlon's office is closed, but I can see the light on under the door. He's inside. I can hear soft voices talking, but I can't make out any of the words. I hesitate, wondering what the hell I'm doing here. Do I really think Dr. Conlon is going to tell me my grade after saying flat out that he wouldn't do that? I'm not that charming.

The door to the office swings open suddenly, and I jump back to keep from getting smacked in the face. And the person who steps out is none other than Mason Howard. He seems equally surprised to see me.

"Heather!" His face breaks out into a grin. He always seems so cool and collected. And sexy, of course—hard to forget that one. "What are you doing here?"

"I just…" I clear my throat. "I needed to talk to Dr. Conlon."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…" I wonder what Mason's doing here. He isn't here because he thought he had failed, that's for sure. Maybe Dr. Conlon wanted to personally congratulate him for getting the highest grade in the class.

"Well, I'll see you later," Mason says with a wink.

He nudges my shoulder as he walks past. Don't tell anyone, but I sort of love it when he touches me. My crush on Mason hasn't abated in the least.

I peek into Dr. Conlon's office and see him sitting at his desk, shuffling through some papers. His cane leans against the side of his desk. I'm debating whether or not to knock when he looks up and spots me.

"Dr. McKinley!" he says, a smile on his lips.

I try my best to put on a surprised face. "Oh, I, um, I didn't realize this was your office, Dr. Conlon!"

He squints at me. "You didn't?"

"No, I didn't," I say, continuing with my lie. "It's, um, really nice. I like the, um…" God, I know nothing about decorating. "I like the wood." Okay, that sounded awful. I have to say something else. "And… I like your bowtie."

Stop talking, Heather. Right now.

"Um, thank you," Dr. Conlon says, a perplexed look on his face. He adjusts his glasses on his nose. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

I squeeze my hands together. "Well, um… I guess, since I'm here…"

"Have a seat," Dr. Conlon says, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. I close the door to his office and sit down in the chair in front of his desk almost gingerly, as if afraid it might collapse under my weight. Which is actually possible, considering how many cookies I've consumed in the last month. "What's up?"

"I just…" I bite my lower lip. "I think I failed the exam, Dr. Conlon. I know I failed it."

Dr. Conlon furrows his black eyebrows. "Heather…"

"I studied so hard, I swear!" Now I'm crying, for God's sake. What's wrong with me? I've morphed into this stereotype of a hysterical medical student. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and notice Dr. Conlon is gawking at me. I hope he doesn't think I'm on drugs. "I just… I don't know what happened! The test was so hard… Maybe I just… I'm not as good as… Sometimes I don't know what I'm even doing here… I just feel like…"

"Heather." Dr. Conlon runs a hand through his black hair. "Stop, okay? Stop. You passed, okay?"

What?

"I… What?"

"You passed."

I don't know what to say. Honestly, I sort of want to jump across the table and plant a big sloppy wet kiss on my professor's face. But that would be unprofessional. So instead, I settle for tearfully thanking him for a solid five minutes, followed by a brief speech about how he is the kindest man I've ever met in my life, concluding with something about how he ought to win a Nobel Prize.

After I finish making a complete idiot out of myself, Dr. Conlon sighs and shakes his head.

"Christ," he says, but he's smiling. "I forgot what it was like to be a medical student."

I wipe my eyes. I really can't picture Dr. Conlon twenty years younger, starting out as a nervous young medical student. Dr. Conlon always seems so confident. He knows everything about the human body, as far as I can tell.

"I didn't know you had to go to med school to teach anatomy," I comment.

"You don't." Dr. Conlon lowers his eyes as he toys with a button on his shirt sleeve. "I dropped out of med school."

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "But why? You're so smart!"

Nice job. I can't believe I just said that to my professor.

But to my relief, he laughs. "Believe me, getting a doctorate in anatomy is not exactly a walk in the park."

I watch as he puts his left palm on the handle of his cane and absently fiddles with it. I asked Abe once if he knew what's wrong with Dr. Conlon, and he said he had no idea. I wonder if his disability has anything to do with why he left medical school. I wonder if he resents us for doing what he couldn't do.

Dr. Conlon gives me a stern look.

"Now, Heather," he says, "you better not tell anyone I told you that you passed. If I see a line of one hundred and fifty students outside my door, I'm going to be really angry at you."

"I won't tell," I promise.

He smiles. "Good. And you need to have more confidence in yourself. I see the way you are in the lab, and you've made huge progress."

I almost faint with joy. Finding out I passed the exam and that Dr. Conlon thinks I'm smart is an incredible high. I'm pretty sure there are no little white pills that could make me feel any better than this.