The Hallowell Agency

2

"Who here can tell me the name of Shakespeare's wife?"

Bailey lowered her chin to her hand, waiting for the inevitable reply to her professor's question to echo through the lecture hall.

"I thought Shakespeare was gay."

A hum of voices rose through the hall in response—some students were laughing, some were making jokes, while others countered the reply with what they believed to be the correct answer.

Bailey felt her friend lean toward her.

"There's always someone," Stephanie murmured in a high-pitched voice. It was the one she always used when mocking their short-statured, silver-haired British Literature professor.

Bailey offered the girl a half-hearted smile.

"Ha-ha. Yes, get it out now while you can," Regina Mosley said at front of the room, leaning toward the computer on her desk and switching to the next slide on her PowerPoint presentation. "There's always someone."

Stephanie released a triumphant squeak. She leaned back in her seat, kicking up her feet and resting them on the back of the chair in front of her. She didn't seem to realize there was another student sitting in it, or that he turned around to shoot her a reproachful raised eyebrow the moment the weight of her heels rocked it forward.

She simply began speaking. "If this happens every semester, why doesn't she just not teach Shakespeare?"

"Maybe because this is a British literature class," Bailey replied as she watched the older woman struggle to reign the class back into her discussion. Lifting her chin from her hand, she stretched her arm out and tapped Stephanie's leg with her knuckles until the other girl lowered her feet from their classmate's seat.

"Oops! Sorry," Stephanie whispered. The boy didn't seem to hear her.

"Didn't Shakespeare write love sonnets about a guy, though?"

"You know some people are bisexual in the world, right?"

"Learning about literature just took a turn," Bailey murmured as Stephanie reacted to the male voice that had spoken up over the buzz of the room. She didn't seem to notice that Bailey had spoken at all as she turned around in her seat, craning her neck as she scanned the room.

"Well, well, well. My future husband has spoken," Bailey heard her friend say, and she found herself nodding without much thought. It wasn't until she felt Stephanie nudge her arm that she realized she'd shut her eyes. "Are you sleeping?"

Bailey threw her eyelids open just in time to see their professor glance up at the clock hanging above the far right door. It was mere minutes before the class was supposed to end. No wonder the students didn't want to shut up.

"I... wasn't sleeping," she said, sitting up straighter in her seat and trying to will her heart rate to slow.

Stephanie raised a dark eyebrow at her, hazel eyes peered at her quizzically. "Just 'resting the eyes' were we?"

Bailey released a half-hearted laugh and shot Stephanie her best smile.

"Yes," she answered as Mosley's voice cut through the murmur that had spread its way across the lecture hall, saying, "All I wanted to hear was 'Anne Hathaway.'" This sent the students on another commenting spree, about the actress this time, much to their professor's dismay and Bailey's amusement.

After noting the expression of annoyance knotting itself into the woman's wrinkled brow, Bailey rubbed her eyes as best she could without rubbing off all her mascara. "I just couldn't sleep last night," she said.