Simple Deal

Prologue

Beth:

"Ms. Livey."

The pencil in my hand carried on scribbling words on the white sheet of paper; thoughts lost in my imaginary world full of different kinds of plots that wouldn't stop popping up in the middle of the class.

It wasn't that I didn't want to stop—I simply couldn't.

Trust me, it was that difficult. 

"Ms. Livey." 

Before I knew it, somebody had stomped on my foot so hard that my pencil magically levitated out of my hand and I was forced to look up from my notebook, only to find the entire class staring dead at me with boring looks. You'd think my heart would be racing but surprisingly, nah.

I guess I wasn't really the only one who thought Pharmaceutical Sciences was boring as hell.

I never wanted to take this as a course, in my life.

Not in high school and I certainly never gave that a single thought when I was in elementary school—I was forcefully admitted into this course because I have father for a lawyer, and mother for a doctor. 

Not exactly the best combination in the world, if you'd ask me.

"Ms. Livey!"

"I'm looking at you," I stiffly managed to say, "yes, Sir?" 

Sadly, that's my lecturer. He has always picked on me even though I've never even done anything (to him) to make him hold a grudge on me. It's like I'm a thorn on a rose's stem—unwanted and absolutely unneeded.

He shot me an instant warning look that made me ball my fingers up beneath the table; he was testing my patience with him.

I just wished I could drop out of this course, my parents gave up on me when I failed a test based on pharmaceutical stuff and focused way much more time in writing. They eventually (after months of telling them I wanted to be an author) told me I'm free to be whatever I wanted to be, but just stop failing, but. . .

That's kind of impossible now, isn't it.

"What is meant by the terms professed, house and compendial standards?" He questioned, folding his arms tightly across his chest as his stomach sunk further down, making him look twice as fat and chunky as he already looks.

I wrecked my brain to search for the answer but all I can think of about this lesson was: blank.

"Uh. . . I don't. . . know."

"Ms. Livey, if you are to fail the upcoming test again, I'm afraid you'll have to retain in the second year of this course, even if you're remarkable in your coursework."