Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“You don’t look very nice. Is it an intimidation technique?”
Her eyebrows jump up and I stop and think about the words I just said. I think this is one of those times where stating my observations out loud is not considered socially acceptable conversation.
She responds anyway. “Resting bitch face.”
“Oh. Why?”
“I can’t help it.”
“I think an expression is a reflection of our thoughts.”
“So you’re saying I can help it?”
“I don’t know.” I frown. “Can you?”
“Can you? You look like you’re thinking about baby unicorns. Your face is so sweet I could gag.”
Her voice hasn’t changed from the flat monotone, but something about her feels like a challenge. Even I know you’re not supposed to tell people their face makes you want to barf, so what does it say about me that her comment gets a smile? “And your face looks like it scares small children.”
For the first time her down-turned lips twitch. “I like you.”
“Okay,” I say, not sure where that came from.
“Okay.”
She turns back to the book she’s reading and apparently that’s that.
I puzzle over her for a minute, wondering what that was.
She slides a chair closer, leaving only three between us. “You can stop looking at me now.”
I quickly turn back to my laptop and smile. “You’re very odd,” I whisper.
“I should hope so.”
She doesn’t talk to me again, and it’s not until an hour later when my phone vibrates on the desk that I look up and realize she’s gone. I’m not sure I can classify what happened as a friendly conversation, but I managed to talk to someone new and not completely screw it up.
I will take that as an excellent sign.
Professor Lawrence’s name shows on the display. I scramble to shove everything into my laptop bag and hurry out of the library. The call drops out before I clear the doors so I hurry to call him back.
“This is Zach,” I say as soon as he answers.
“Good, I was hoping to catch you.” His voice is kind like always, and it’s a novelty to have a professor who isn’t irritated by, well, me. “I was thinking through your concerns over TAing that sports psychology class, and I don’t think you’re going to get over your apprehension until you rip the Band-Aid off.”
I do not like the sound of that. “Band-Aid?”
“Sure. After the lecture on Monday I’ll allocate twenty minutes for you to talk through the first assignment and answer any questions.”
“Oh.”
He chuckles. “Stage fright?”
“Not at all.” I adjust my glasses as I lean back into the wall. “I’m more concerned about the answering questions part.”
“Zach …”
“Yes?”
“You’ll do fine. I’ll send through all the information on the assignment, and I’ll be right there if you need additional input. Just have fun with it.”
“Of course. Yes. I can do that.”
I thank him and we hang up, but I already feel sick.
That unsettled feeling doesn’t shift all weekend even as I pour over Professor Lawrence’s notes. I read them so many times I have them practically memorized, but I also add points to a little card just in case I get stuck. I read through the class’s assigned reading and some articles on the intranet until I feel like I’m bleeding team dynamics.
I almost feel vaguely confident when I walk into class on Monday and remember one key piece of information I’d forgotten.
Foster is in this class.
He watches me from his seat as Professor Lawrence takes them through the lecture, and it makes me more determined than ever to get this right. Need help. I’ll show him.
When Professor Lawrence rounds up the lecture and hands it over to me, I tuck my card into my pocket and stand. I’m a little jittery but nothing beyond the normal amount of nerves public speaking brings.
Even with the wall of people looking back at me, I can’t stop my gaze from flicking to Foster. His friend nudges him, and I immediately look away again.
“Uh, hello. For those of you I haven’t met yet, I’m Zach. In case you haven’t checked through the course material and set work for the semester, there’s an essay on team dynamics due in week four.” I pause and force myself to take a breath. As I talk them through the framework for the essay and the criteria that will be assessed, my nerves start to lessen.
I know this. I know the material and I know the work, and everything I spent the weekend reading is still in my brain. This isn’t so bad.
I manage to smile and slow down my words because when it comes to talking about research, the words come fast and easy.
I’m on a roll, sure I’m impressing even Foster with my prowess …
And then I ask if there are any questions.
A guy in the fourth row raises his hand. “The essay wants us to focus on how the individual works within team dynamics. Can you explain that a bit more?”