Free Pieces by Michelle D. Argyle Page B

hoped she hadn’t lost that much of her sanity, but as she looked around at her piles of unfinished art projects and the stacks of history, art, and language books on her shelf from previous semesters, she wondered how sane she truly was. Other students lived on campus and got drunk at parties. Other students dated and graduated and got married and led normal lives. She wanted to marry an ex-con and pretend being kidnapped had been a normal thing she could forget about. Burying her face in her quilt again, she held back her tears and waited for the pain to ebb away into nothingness. It usually didn’t take long.

    T HE NEXT few days were filled with settling back in and registering for classes. Every semester, Naomi sat in her bedroom with her laptop and registered online, but this time when she tried, an error message popped up that said she needed to visit the campus registrar in person. A little buzz started in her head. As she drove to campus and found a parking spot, the buzzing grew louder.
    Failure, it hissed. You. Screwed. Up.
    Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the building and stood in line. She knew what they were going to tell her, and she didn’t want to hear it. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was overreacting. She readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and looked down at her sweating palms. She wasn’t wrong.
    “I-I can’t seem to register online and it said I needed to come here,” she told the lady at the window.
    “Alright. Let’s look up a few things.”
    Naomi gave the woman her student ID. As she waited, she looked at all the lines around her. There were so many people she didn’t know, so many she didn’t even want to know. When she looked back on her life, that part of herself hadn’t changed because of her kidnapping. She had been a loner in high school, and she was a loner now.
    The lady at the window looked up from her computer. “You’re welcome to register,” she said with a smile, “but you’ll need to do it with an advisor here.” She looked at the monitor and squinted. “It looks like they might want to speak with you about your GPA and your scholarship.”
    Annoyed at the unnecessary step to be told to go see her advisor, Naomi nodded and left. It was after one o’clock before she could get in to see her advisor in another building.
    “Naomi, hello!”
    Kate Ramirez was one of the only people Naomi had voluntarily told about her kidnapping. It seemed necessary for the person guiding the future of her education to understand the problems of her past. Kate urged her to sit down and pulled up Naomi’s file.
    “I’m surprised you remember me,” Naomi said with a nervous laugh. “You must see hundreds of students a year.”
    Kate winked at her before turning her attention back to the monitor. She was young, probably in her late twenties, with black hair like Becca’s, only it wasn’t dyed. She had thick bangs cut straight across her forehead. Naomi focused on her silky yellow shirt with little bows tying off the sleeves.
    “Of course I remember you,” Kate said with a laugh. “You’re an exceptional student, and you’re unique.”
    Naomi wasn’t sure if she should be offended. The way Kate said “unique” clearly meant, like Id forget someone with such an interesting past. Because it wasn’t her exceptional abilities as a student that set her apart. Harvard was full of exceptional students.
    “So,” Naomi said slowly, leaning forward, her chair creaking. “It’s my grades, isn’t it? I’ve lost my scholarship?” A bitter taste entered her mouth.
    Kate stopped scrolling down the screen and turned to face Naomi. “Well, yes.” She winced and shook her head. “You were doing great, and then you turned off. Your professors noted a lack of coursework submitted and you graded poorly on every exam.” She folded her arms. “Did something happen? A death in the family? An accident of some sort?”
    “No, and it’s not the scholarship I’m