Chapter Text
It was an easy afternoon. Ganz College stirred as students moved in and readied themselves for the fall semester. Bright-eyed freshmen carried cardboard boxes across the leaf-littered campus, professors double-checked their lesson plans, and Devon Scout sat dumbfounded in her class advisor's musty office. She had been called for a meeting before the semester began, something about an issue with her qualifications.
"What?" Devon exclaimed, brows drawing together as she gave a surprised laugh. "Are you serious? But I thought—”
"You do not have enough credits to qualify, Miss Scout," her advisor said plainly. She clicked her tongue, jaw dropping.
“No?” Quiet pervaded the yellow-wallpapered office. The two women had a brief stare-down before the advisor awkwardly flicked her eyes back to the sheet she was referencing, the guidelines that were currently inconveniencing her plotted course.
Devon had wanted to follow in her brother's footsteps academically, pursue a higher degree, do the whole smarty pants post-grad thing. Political science was the major she tumbled into with her debate background and natural inclination to take leadership. A master's would surely get her far, and Ganz offered an ideal, vaguely prestigious graduate program that suited her just right. But now, after all the hard work she'd put in, she was hearing that just because of one little failure her freshman year, she wouldn't be able to pursue that route? Bullshit! She scoffed and leaned back, smoothing a hand over the fabric of her pants.
"So... what now? Do I just have to retake the class, or is there- I can just make it up, right?" she asked. The advisor hesitated, and she exhaled in exasperation.
"You need a science elective with a lab to meet the requirements. You may retake the class you failed your freshman year, or you may opt for a different course. There are options." The advisor turned their laptop to show a few course selections she had available to her. She took a peek.
There was molecular cell biology with Asal Reghabi, snoreeeee. She wasn't interested in doing over the same thing she'd already messed up. There was some engineering thing that did not appeal to her whatsoever. She scrolled up and down through the list for a bit, questioning why she didn't just grin and bear it back then (she was too drunk half the time; that was why). Course names flickered blandly as she considered it, most of her inner dialogue consisted of screeches and cusses of complaint as she passively looked at the screen.
After passing it by for the umpteenth time, the name Dr. Harmony Cobel caught her eye. She remembered Mark mentioning something about her when he was going through undergrad. That professor had been very notable in many of his dinnertime anecdotes. Even if he was a history major, his core requirements forced him into her laboratory every other day for two whole semesters, a grueling class that he spoke of with distaste. That fact intrigued her.
Devon leaned in and read the name of the class. 'Intro to Neuroscience' glimmered in blue as she hovered the cursor above it. On the page filled with lengthy names containing colons, commas, and ampersands, this one was refreshingly concise. Besides, how hard could it be? It was an introductory course. As for her brother’s complaints; Mark was a bitch, that's why he couldn't handle it. She wanted just a little bit to be the scholastically superior sibling for once. Perhaps this was her time to shine.
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"Miss Cobel?" Gemma snorted and sipped her champagne, her wedding and engagement ring clicking pleasantly against the glass stem.
Devon and her brother had a weekly dinner, and it was his week to host it. Her place was too messy anyways, and she was fresh out of money for anything that tasted halfway good. As he finished cooking it up, she and Gemma were sitting in the opposing dining room having drinks. The small round table held the two women's conversation comfortably. After the day everyone had, it was a reprieve to be at home with family. Scents of spices and roasting meat danced through the air as the ladies breathed it in. Devon swished her negroni in the glass and sipped it with a coy smile as Gemma laughed at her expense.
"Yes, Dr. Cobel is who I am taking my science elective with. Is that an issue?" She replied with an easy lilt to her voice. Mark walked in with three delicately balanced plates and stiffened a little when he heard the tail end of their banter.
"Not to me, but a certain someone else might not be so keen," said Gemma, pointing her gaze affectionately at her husband. Mark set her meal in front of her and kissed her forehead. Devon thanked him and nibbled her dinner.
"Yeah, well, someone else just isn't as brilliant a scientist as I," Devon declared through a delectable mouthful. "But he is a better cook," she added.
Mark settled down, finally ready to relax and eat with his wife and sister. A wry smile crossed his features as he registered her remark and chuckled. "You literally failed your science class."
"But I'm a pre-brilliant scientist. Or at least I will be in my fucking awesome brain class, just you wait."
"Uh huh, let me know how that goes when you have Harmony Cobel circling you with those boots of hers, evil old lady eyes watching your every move."
Gemma shook her head and raised a playful eyebrow at him. "Evil old lady eyes? Come on, honey, that can't be warranted."
Mark took another bite of his dinner, tilting his gaze to meet hers. "You're right, she isn't as horrid a witch as I'm painting her, but she’s still a witch." They all laughed at that, but Mark’s chortle was cut short when he felt the toe of Gemma’s shoe kick his shin beneath the table.
The spouses and the sister carried on with their evening, moving on to some more leisurely subjects of dinner conversation and later even making a brave voyage from the table to the sofa to finish off with ice cream sundaes for dessert.
Having an employed older brother kicked ass sometimes.
It waned late into the evening, and Mark wound up dozing off on Gemma's shoulder, mouth agape, snores and all. Gemma too slumbered, though far more elegantly, with her ankles crossed and legs stretched out upon the cushions. Devon sat and admired them for a beat. The boy who had snuck bugs and frogs into their childhood home with her, squatting in their equally mussed blue jeans as they watched the wood floors become more and more exotic with each new creature inside, was now a homely man. He cooked. He cleaned. He laughed at corny history jokes and texted her screenshots of the weather app whenever it predicted precipitation. He even had a beautiful wife who, despite Devon leaning more butch in her fashion and habits, made her feel more like a sister than he did some days. It was nice. Familiar. The lovers' chests rose and fell with their synchronized breaths, and she tiptoed to make herself at home in the guest bedroom.
As her ponderings continued, she circled back to their earlier chats about the newest addition to her course load. Dr. Harmony Cobel was infamous in the Scout household. She thought about it as she opened up her phone to lull her to sleep (because that was proven to be ever so effective). RateMyProfessor cued up easily, and she typed in the name of the hour, scrolling to find a profile that aligned. A green 4.8 rating greeted her, much to her surprise. She was expecting the public to slam her into the negatives, just given her advisor's little wince when she saw what she had chosen and Mark's own reaction. Even Gemma knew how deep the gripe between them was, and Mark’s time in that class had come long before the two of them ever dated. Yet even with public opinion at a hellish low, she was a moderately good teacher, so claimed this number. Devon was curious to see what the reviews said. She laid in her slacks and loosened her belt so it’d stop pinching her ice cream-bloated belly before rolling over to read the student feedback to herself.
"5.00 in quality, 5.00 in difficulty...oof." Maybe this was a site she should have consulted before making a decision based purely on spite. A student named Eunice Huang had written a rather polite review detailing the specifics of how comprehensive the course material was, how Dr. Cobel was very respectful and accommodated her needs, and some other things Devon scrolled past. One was just "ooughh" with no other commentary. She marked that one as helpful. She scrolled through for a while, absorbing the wisdom of past students, such as "I've never learned more in a class. Did feel like I was going to die the whole time." and "Five stars, would not recommend." and "Dr. Cobel is a very intelligent woman with a clear passion for her field. She also hates you." and "Dr. Cobe-" Her eyelids got heavier and heavier, snippets still vying for her attention. Eventually sleep made her limp in the wrist, and her phone flopped weakly against the soft comforter, the last flash of her dimming screen being the name of her impending neuroscience professor. It would be fine, she assured herself groggily; she'd make it. She always did. Sleep slithered around the last of her consolations and extinguished them to little more than darkness behind her eyes.