Chapter 5

News flash:Medical school is really hard work.

I knew it would be. Obviously. But it's really, really hard. Harder than premed biology. Harder than organic chemistry, and I only pulled a B in that through the skin of my teeth (and a lot of help from Landon).

The weeks pass rapidly, but the days are slow. And the labs are endless. We have anatomy labs three times a week, and each session feels like I'm stuffing an encyclopedia's worth of information into my brain.

"If I have to memorize one more nerve or artery today, my head will explode," I say to Abe at least once per lab. It's become my catchphrase.

My brain just isn't that big. But Mason's is, apparently, because he knows everything before the lab even begins.

Dr. Conlon gives weekly quizzes for anatomy class so that students can assess our progress before the first big exam. They're not going super well. I failed the first two and was pathetically happy when I eked out a passing grade on the third.

Well, not a pass exactly. It was a low pass. To make us feel less competitive, instead of A, B, C, and D, we have honors, high pass, pass, and low pass. But they're obviously the exact same thing. Essentially, I got a D on the last exam, which is nothing to be proud of.

Why am I doing so badly? I'm studying nonstop. Literally. I take the lab manual to the toilet with me. But somehow, it's the wrong material. Or else I'm studying the right material, but it all flies out of my head seconds before the quiz.

The anatomy labs themselves don't make me feel any more confident. Dr. Conlon is always sneaking up behind me to ask a question I can't answer.

"Dr. McKinley," he says to me one day. "What is that?"

I used to sort of like it when he called me "Doctor," but with each poor quiz grade, I like it less.

I follow the path of his gloved finger, pointing deep into the cadaver's abdominal cavity. I have absolutely no idea what he's pointing to.

"The celiac artery?" I guess.

Dr. Conlon's blue eyes widen.

"The main pancreatic duct," I quickly correct myself.

His black eyebrows rise in horror.

I take one more stab in the dark: "The… gastroepiploic… vein?"

The usually patient Dr. Conlon, so befuddled by my answers, just stumbles away, shaking his head. Apparently, I'm unteachable.

"What is it?" I whisper to Sasha, who is standing across from me.

Mason would have known and likely shouted out the answer, but he's at some other cadaver right now. He follows around his favorite teaching assistants in order to soak up as much information as he can. He only graces us with his presence for about half the lab, although he still manages to do most of the work.

Sasha looks down at where I'm pointing.

"It's the duodenum," she says without hesitation. She's tiny and quiet, but she knows her stuff.

"Shit," I say.

Sasha seems somewhat traumatized by my profanity, so I add, "Sorry."

She nods. "It's okay."

"Why am I so bad at this?" I whine.

Sasha shrugs. "Just study more," she says, not unkindly.

Sasha and I don't connect. I thought that after my failed friendship attempt with Rachel, I might be able to hit it off with my other lab partner. But Sasha is too quiet and seems completely uninterested in communicating with me beyond exchanging information about anatomy. Every attempt I've made to get to know her has completely flopped. I asked her if she had a boyfriend, and she just looked at me blankly.

Not only that, but Landon and I barely talk anymore. Every time I call him, he says he's busy studying, and he often seems distracted. He barely calls me at all. He had insisted this long-distance thing would work, but I'm starting to have my doubts. On a scale of one to ten, he probably misses me only like a three… or maybe even a two.

So in summary, I have no friends, my relationship is falling apart, and I'm failing anatomy.

It all seems so impossible. I'm being tasked to memorize encyclopedias' worth of material, and there are only so many waking hours in the day. I've always been someone who needed a lot of sleep, and by around nine in the evening, my eyelids are sagging, and nothing sticks anymore.

If only there was something that could help me stay awake longer.