3 Chapter 3 Remember Him

Three months after you gave your family the slip, you wander into a classical lecture hall that smells like old books. You eye the others literature students. Each one of them is around a decade younger than you. Before you can find a seat for yourself, a man who is likely the professor strides past you to the podium. Welcome, friends! The professor's voice is the softest, kindest sound you have ever heard in your life. However, something about him feels off. I'm so excited to meet young people whose words will one day shape history. He doesn't sound like he means that. I am professor Joseph Cross. But that is not important. I want to learn to know you! You there, miss. What's your name? You mouth the name you have only had on your papers for less than a month. Ah, um. Cally Walpole. Splendid. Miss Walpole, are you here to learn to analyze text or author it? I want to be a poet. Unfortunately, most audiences don't have the attention span for poetry in a world that is drowning in text. Pretty words won't get you far. You have to make an impact. Tell me, Miss Walpole. How are you going to make me remember you today? Something about how the professor speaks bothers you. He doesn't sound like it but you can feel him looking down on you. I don't need you to remember me. Oh? Why take this class if you think so lowly of my judgment? I don't doubt your skill. I'm just confident in my art. You might want to be careful. Some people could think you have an attitude problem. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Professor.I have my reasons to not care for the opinion of others. The handsome Professor narrows his eyes at you. The look in them is downright hungry. I think I will remember you, Miss Walpole. Please stay after class for a little chat. A writer like you will might need a more...personalized approach from me.