Garden of Eden

2

She pressed her lips together. She felt like she was running, her heart was beating so fast. Her blood pounded in her ears, and there was only panic.

But she couldn't back down. She belonged here. She would prove it to anyone who thought otherwise. She set her jaw. "No, I'm fine where I am," she said. "Just thinking that an apple isn't much of an incentive."

The professor gave a sarcastically surprised face. "But it's golden!"

Atalanta fought hard to keep the smirk off her face. "Is that supposed to impress me?"

She meant it to be a subtle jibe, but the professor showed no indication that it effected him. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Along with this apple," he said, eerily steady, "the top student will receive a grant to study abroad for a year in any country of their choosing, all expenses paid."

Small gasps went around the room. Even Atalanta's mouth gaped open. She'd always dreamt of going overseas. It was her biggest desire. Of course, her father never allowed it. But if all expenses were paid, how could he say no?

"Don't look so excited, Miss Evans," the professor said. "I am docking five points from your final grade."

Just like that, Atalanta was pulled back into reality. Her jaw fell even lower. "Wha--" she exclaimed, so flabbergasted. She whipped her head back and forth, blindsided by his sudden harshness. "For what?!"

"For speaking out of turn," he stated. "Don't try to argue or you will be even further penalized. Now, moving on..."

Professor Pattinson brushed by her outburst just like that, neither giving her the chance to defend or further embarrass herself. He began with a vague overview of Greek history, probably all things Atalanta should've taken notes on, but she could only sit and sulk.

Why did she have to act so stubbornly? She should've just kept her mouth shut. Now, she would be five points behind the rest of the class, which meant she was five points away from that golden apple.

Because now, it wasn't even fully about proving her dad wrong. She wanted more; she wanted the apple.

Funny, she thought, how all of her life she had been trying to run from apples, and now she was competing for one.

***

After class, Atalanta took a long time packing her things. Suddenly, she felt very, very tired. Stress weighed on her shoulders, and part of her just wanted to curl up and cry.

She didn't like people very much. The only person she had ever truly gotten along with was her aunt. Otherwise, she didn't like making conversation. She especially didn't like tense situations. It was the reason she did track; it was easy to run on your own without having to depend on or communicate with anyone.

Teachers usually liked her because she kept to herself. Made jokes when appropriate, asked the right questions, but was never annoyingly social the way other students were. Now, Atalanta didn't know how to react to Professor Pattinson. Never had anyone been so hostile and unrelenting with her.

Those negative five points weighed on her as she rose from her chair, and as she passed his desk, she couldn't help herself. She stopped before him.

He had his back turned to her as he erased the whiteboard. She waited patiently, quietly, trying to prove in a small way that she was a good student and didn't deserve punishment.

Slowly, he turned around. He didn't seem surprised to see her. "Can I help you?" he asked.

She tucked her hair behind her ear--a nervous habit. "Yes, actually," she said. "I don't think it's fair that you docked me 5 points."

He was arranging papers on his desk and didn't pause once, not even to look at her as he responded. "I said I would not be lenient with disrespect. Do you find it fair that I took 10 points from Mr. Anderson?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't," Atalanta said. "I made a small noise of surprise. It was unintentional."

"Well, I suggest that in the future," the professor replied, "you control your noises."

Atalanta flushed a deep, frustrated shade of red. She couldn't give up. She couldn't back down. She needed that apple. "Well I suggest that in the future," she retorted, unable to stop herself, "you bully your students a little less and encourage forgiveness a little more!"

At this, he lowered the papers in his hands and raised his head to meet her gaze. Inside, Atalanta was shaking. She was begging herself to keep her mouth shut and just walk away. But she couldn't. Not now.

"Excuse me," Professor Pattinson said, again with that scary calm. Atalanta almost would've been less afraid if he just raised his voice instead. This steely, steady voice of his gave her chills. "I didn't know you knew so much about teaching."

"I know that everyone despises you," Atalanta said, and despite her sudden need to stand up to him, the words came out soft. She thought perhaps they were a bit harsh.

But he was unaffected. He just snorted. "My goal is not to be loved. My goal is to make my students pass."

"And you do that by terrifying them?"

"I have my methods," he replied. "Perhaps you should develop learning methods of your own. You didn't take a single note today."

Again, Atalanta flushed. But this time, it was at the thought that he had watched her during class. "I..." She swallowed. "I don't like history."

"I don't care if you don't like it," he said. "It says here you haven't been in school for two years."

Ashamed, Atalanta nodded.

"You're the oldest in the class," he continued. "More pressure is on you to pick a major. You're running out of options. Do you have a plan? To graduate early? To get a secondary degree?"

Atalanta's face grew redder and redder. "I haven't thought that far."

"So you've thought about the apple," he said, gesturing to the golden apple on his desk, "but you haven't thought about what you want to do with your life?" He shook his head. "You've had twenty years to think about your future. You only had forty-five minutes to think about this prize."

"All I know is apples," she defended thoughtlessly. Later, she would balk at how stupid she sounded. "But I want to know more."

"Then I suggest you start with taking notes," he said, "and keeping quiet during my lectures. I am not here to advise you, Atalanta, and I ask you do not try to advise me. I have been teaching for quite some time now. And, as I said, if you don't like the way I do things, you can leave."

Atalanta swallowed. "Yes, Professor."

She turned to leave. She felt the tears brimming in her eyes and felt her throat tightening. If she looked at him for a second longer, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from crying.

"However," he spoke behind her. She paused, clenching her eyes shut. "I can assign you a reading to earn those five points back, if you would like."

Almost instantly, those tears dried up. She whipped around. "I would love!"

For a brief moment, she thought he was going to smile. But instead, he reached down into a desk drawer. While she waited, Atalanta imagined what his smile looked like. She bet it was brilliant.

He pulled out a small, printed booklet. He slid it over the desk towards her, and of course, the title read Atalanta.

"Read this tonight," he said, "and stay after class tomorrow for discussion to earn your points."

Atalanta was so relieved she thought she would burst. The largest smile stretched across her face. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. "I promise, this will be the last time I speak out of turn. I will see you tomorrow!"

Once more, she turned towards the door. And once more, he spoke behind her.

"And Atalanta?" She turned to look back at him. Again, he almost smiled. "Make sure you actually take notes this time."

When Atalanta left his class, she couldn't exactly explain why she was smiling so hard, or why that smile stayed plastered on her face throughout afternoon track practice and continued to raise her cheeks even as she fell asleep that night.