Chapter 90

For a Sunday night,the library is surprisingly crowded. When I look around, several of my classmates are feverishly outlining textbooks and studying drawings of muscles, arteries, and nerves, trying to put in a last-ditch effort to prepare for our final exam tomorrow. It makes me nostalgic for the days when it was just me and Mason.

I feel confident I'll at least earn an honors grade in the class. I know the anatomy atlas backward and forward, and I put in countless hours in the lab this week, memorizing all the structures. But is it enough to get the top grade in the class? I don't know.

I haven't checked Locker 282 yet. I have no idea if the exam is in there or not. I walk by the locker every day, debating if I should risk checking it. But I can't bring myself to do it.

I haven't seen Mason since that night in the library. Maybe he decided to pick another location to study, one less distracting. There are students scattered all over the hospital studying this weekend. Despite how awful he looked the other day, I can't believe he isn't putting everything he's got into this exam.

Believe it or not, I almost went and talked to Patrice about him. I stood in front of her office for about five straight minutes, my hand poised to knock on the door. But in the end, I couldn't do it. I want to get the highest score in the class on this exam—and if Mason rehabilitates himself, that might not happen.

Of course, the only surefire way to get the highest score lies in the contents of Locker 282.

I'm debating whether to get up and check the locker when a familiar voice makes me stop short.

"Sasha?"

My breath catches in my throat. It's Rachel Bingham. Great.

"Um… hey, Rachel…"

"I'm glad I'm not the only one here late at night," Rachel says, sliding uninvited into the seat next to mine. The comment is a little patronizing—it's not like Rachel needs to be here late studying when she's sleeping with the professor.

"It's never empty here at night," I say irritably.

Rachel sighs loudly and looks off into the distance. I feel like she expects me to say something, so I finally ask, "Are you okay, Rachel?"

"It's just this guy I've been seeing," Rachel says.

This guy?You mean our professor, don't you? God, I hate her.

"We sort of… broke up recently," she sighs. "I really messed things up."

I frown. Rachel and Dr. Conlon aren't sleeping together anymore? Does that mean she hasn't been able to get the answers to the final?

"I… I'm sorry. Did all the studying get in the way?"

"No, not really."

Rachel doesn't look like she wants to say anything more, but I need to know what happened. I need to know if those exam answers are waiting for me.

I have to feel her out. "So you're having a fight?"

"No, it's over," Rachel assures me. "I did something… unforgivable."

"You cheated on him?"

That seems unlikely. Rachel doesn't seem interested enough in men to have sex if it wasn't for a grade. From the comments I've heard her make, she seems to despise men.

"No, it's not that…" Rachel bites her lip.

She looks away, and that's when I realize that there are tears filling her eyes. Oh my God, is she crying?I'm confused. Is she crying over her grade? She can't possibly have been in love with Dr. Conlon, could she? No way.

This is the weirdest conversation ever.

Rachel stands up rather abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. She looks almost manic.

"Uh, I've got to go for a minute," she says. "Watch my stuff?"

I nod, perplexed. I don't bother to mention that nothing ever gets stolen out of the library. I left my purse here all the time when I snuck off to the locker room with Mason.

After Rachel disappears, I try my best to go back to studying, but it's difficult. All I can think about is what Rachel was talking about. If she and Dr. Conlon are over, will the exam still be in that locker?

I've got to know.

I stand up. I glance around, and nobody seems to be particularly paying attention to me. Now is the time, before Rachel gets back.

I hurry across the floor, in the direction of the anatomy lab. My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweaty. For all I know, Rachel is lying in wait in the locker room, and she's going to bust me the second I open that locker. But that's a chance I've got to take.

A few minutes later, I'm standing in front of Locker 282. My combination lock is hanging from the door, and for a moment, the combination flies right out of my head. But then it comes back to me: 28-16-8. I start turning the dial.

Before I pop the lock open, I check the hallway one last time. Empty.

The door to the locker swings open, and there it is: the final exam. My heart beats wildly as I pick it up and flip through over a dozen pages of anatomy diagrams and multiple-choice questions. I can't believe I'm holding the final exam. I can't believe my plan worked. I'm going to get the highest score in the class on the final.

But as I stare into the empty locker, somehow, a distant memory fills my head—my father bouncing around the ER, telling everyone who would listen: "My daughter wants to be a doctor!"

Sasha, you make me so proud…

I look back down at the final exam, and I suddenly feel ill. All I wanted was to make my father proud of me. If my mother is to be believed, he gave up his own life so that I could have my dream.

And all I know is that if my father could see what I'm doing right now, he would not be proud. He would be ashamed of me.

Before I can change my mind, I start ripping the final exam into shreds. I tear up every single page into about a dozen pieces and hurl them into the nearest trash bin. It doesn't even register that I'm crying until the final shreds of paper have been deposited into the garbage.

Please, Papa, forgive me…

I'm just glad he isn't alive to see me like this.