Suicide Med (29 page)

It’s about two weeks before the final exam in anatomy. We’re working on the arms, although I’ve noticed that more and more students are cutting lab in order to study. I can never do that though. Matt would kill me.

Today I’m the only one in my lab group
of five who showed up. I work my ass off separating the forearm muscles all by myself. Well, not all by myself—Matt comes by a bunch of times to assist me.

When the lab
ends, I’m dead tired. My back is killing me from leaning over the cadaver—I even manage to inexplicably work up a sweat. I head straight for my locker, hoping to change clothes quickly, go home, and take a long, hot shower, followed by a visit to Matt’s house. But the note stuffed under the door of the locker makes me forget all about my plans.

“
I know all about you and Dr. Conlon. Put the answers to the final exam under the door of Locker 282 or else everyone will find out the truth.”

The note, of course, is unsigned.
I crumple it up and stuff it in my pocket quickly, suddenly paranoid that someone else is watching me. There are only a few people in the hallway and none of them seem to be paying attention to me.

Who would write a letter like this?
God, it could be anyone. Our class is full of really competitive people, and in all honesty, a lot of people in the class don’t like me very much. I don’t think I could even come up with a short list of suspects.

I glance down the hallway.
The way the lockers are numbered, Locker 282 is all the way down the hall on the right. I slam my own locker door closed and walk in the direction of the locker. It’s one of the top lockers, right in the middle of the row. There’s a combination lock holding the door closed. I peer through the vent in the door, trying to see what’s inside. Of course, all I can see is blackness.

Whoever wrote that letter m
eans business. If someone reports me to the dean, Matt and I will
both
be in a lot of trouble. And how exactly am I supposed to explain my A on the second exam after failing the first?

Shit.
What the hell am I going to do?

_____

The next morning, I
show up in the office of Matt’s secretary, Anita. Anita is a grandmotherly woman who Matt says has been with him since he started.

“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” he says sometimes.

She pretty much dotes on him like he’s her son
(or grandson). Anita is a favorite amongst the med students too, mainly because she always keeps a big bowl of candy on her desk and we’re all hungry. And she smiles a lot.

Anita never has a smile on her face for me though.
Actually, I’d venture to say she hates me.

When I show up in her office, she practically sneers at me.
I’m sure Matt didn’t confide in her about the two of us, but she ran into me a couple of times leaving his office and I think she suspects something. And clearly, she doesn’t approve.

“Hi, Anita,” I
say, trying to appear as friendly and peppy as possible. I thought about bringing her chocolates or something, but decided it would seem like I’m trying too hard.

“Hello,
Rachel,” Anita replies, barely looking up from her computer.

“Um, I’m wondering if you can tell me something,” I
begin, tugging at my T-shirt nervously. “Do you know who is assigned Locker 282?”

“No,” Anita says, still not looking up.

“Is there any way to find out?” I ask.

“Locker assignments
are confidential,” Anita snaps at me.

“They are?” I
never heard that and wonder if it’s really true. “Um, do you know when Matt will be here?”

Anita
is staring at me. I have no idea why until I realize what I just said. Shit.

“I mean,” I
say, blushing bright red, “do you know when
Dr. Conlon
will be here?”

Anita narrows her
eyes. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay, then,” I
murmur.

I
’ve lost all interest in finding out about Locker 282 and just want to get the hell out of here. But Anita isn’t going to let me get off that easily.

“Miss
Bingham,” Anita says in a tight voice, “I’ve worked with Matthew Conlon for many years and he’s a very good professor and a good man. And someday he’ll find a woman who loves him. I think it’s downright despicable that you’re taking advantage of the fact that he’s very lonely right now.”

I feel a burst of anger rising inside of
me.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I
say.

Anita shakes her
head. “I never thought I’d see the day when a twenty-two-year-old snot-nosed med student would tell me that I have no idea what I’m talking about. I knew I was right about you, and I’ve told Matthew as much.”

Oh great.
Anita is talking trash about me to Matt. I feel my face turn red with anger, but I know it won’t do much good to fight with Anita. Anita hates me, Patrice hates me… everyone thinks I’m the worst person in the world for getting involved with Matt. And maybe they’re all right.

“I’m sorry I bothered you,” I
say quietly. “I wish you could understand.”

Maybe it’s my imagination, but I see
a flash of doubt fall over Anita’s face. Either way, it passes quickly. I’m a medical student and I’m dating my anatomy professor. Nobody is going to understand if this gets out.

_____

I can’t tell Matt about the letter.

I’d like to, but I sense it’s a mistake. Matt won’t negotiate. Despite his resolve not to let anyone fail and the fact that he’s sleeping with a student, he’s irritatingly ethical. He’s not going to hand someone an answer key just because they threatened him. He has way too much integrity for his own good. He’d rather lose his job than negotiate.

I’m not quite so hardcore.

Cheating doesn’t bother me. Obviously. Okay, I know it’s wrong, but it’s not on the order of murder or torture. I don’t like being blackmailed, but it’s hard to throw stones. I blackmailed plenty of professors, and if I could have taken advantage of another student, I’m sure I would have. The opportunity just never came up.

And med school is full of extremely competitive stud
ents. The worst of the bunch are dubbed “gunners.” Gunners are students who do more than just study all the time to succeed—they’ll stop at nothing to outdo their classmates. I’ve heard stories about gunners who ripped important pages out of textbooks in the library, hoarded study materials passed on by upperclassmen, and badmouthed other students to the professors. But something like this goes beyond just competitiveness. This is cheating, pure and simple.

Don’t laugh
, but I actually do some detective work to figure out who Locker 282 belongs to. I start inconspicuously wandering around in the corner where the locker is located, although I realize I’m at a disadvantage, considering the blackmailer knows who I am.

Naturally, my first thought was that it might be Lauren Chou, considering I’m pretty sure she suspected something was going on between me and Matt
when she saw me leave his office with my buttons mismatched. I watched her around the lockers, and I was almost positive that I saw her slamming the door to Locker 282.

The next day, I
fall into step with Lauren while we’re heading to our lockers prior to lab. Lauren glances up at me and doesn’t seem particularly thrilled by my company, but she doesn’t shove me out of the way at least. Lauren is kind of a geek—very studious, with thick glasses that are always sliding down her nose, usually with her nose stuffed in a book. But not that competitive from what I’ve seen—more of a nerd than a gunner. Lauren wants to be a neurologist, which is what all the nerds want to do.

“Hi, Lauren,” I
say brightly. “Going to lab?”

Lauren shifts her
backpack to her other shoulder and peers at me with curiosity. Or is it suspicion? Lauren and I have exchanged only a handful of words this year, and we haven’t spoken since the time she saw me coming out of Matt’s office.

“Yes,” Lauren says.
“Of course.”

“Right,” I
say after an awkward pause. “Me too.”

If this med school thing doesn’t work out, I don’t think detective work is in the cards for me.

“Great,” Lauren replies tonelessly.

It’s pretty clear L
auren doesn’t like me. Does that make her a suspect? Actually, more likely, it just makes her like everyone else.

When Lauren turn
s the corner to get to her locker, she looks irritated that I’m still following her.

“Isn’t your locker on the other end of the hallway?”
she asks.

“Uh,” I
say, cursing myself for not preparing for this obvious question. “Actually, I switched lockers.”

“Why
would you do that?” Lauren asks. She drops her backpack on the floor and looks at me curiously.

Just open your goddamn locker already!

“Too many boys changing down there,” I say finally.

Lauren gives
me a funny look, and I know why. Several of the girls in their class have been whispering about how I stripped down to change in the middle of the hallway when I hadn’t been wearing a bra. What can I say—I was in a hurry. I don’t wear a bra that much because my boobs are tiny and the only time they elicit the slightest bit of attention is when I’m braless. Anyway, I’m sorry I did it. No wonder all the girls hate me.

Lauren turns
toward the lockers and I hold my breath. For a second, it seems like she’s definitely going for 282, but then her fingers descended onto the padlock for 284.

So
Lauren isn’t the blackmailer. Or maybe she is, but when she saw me tagging along with her, she decided to open a different locker. Maybe she claimed two lockers right next each other in order to mislead me. Obviously, whoever sent me that letter would take precautions to keep from getting caught. Lauren isn’t an idiot, that’s for sure.

Lauren starts pulling scrubs out of her locker and looks at me curiously.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” she asks me.

I would, except that m
y locker is at the other end of the hallway. I’m so busted.

“Um,” I
say. “I need to get something.”

And then I hurry off in the direction the bathroom, before she can ask me any more awkward questions.

Christ, that
went really badly. Lauren was my only lead and now that’s fizzled out. I still have absolutely no clue who sent that note.

Worse, I don’t know how to comply with the
blackmailer’s request. I have no idea where a copy of the practical exam answer key might be or how to get a hold of it. I always simply demanded that my grade be changed—I never went through the fine art of cheating. For all I know, Dr. Conlon hasn’t even written the exam yet.

But I know that if I don’t get a copy of that exam, my medical career is going to be over.

The next day, I come to lab to find that the arms and legs of my cadaver have been desecrated.

My legs nearly buckle when I see it.
I dissected one arm in the previous lab, but the remaining three limbs have been all but ripped apart. It’s all I can do to keep from throwing up.

The only other person from my group who s
howed up to lab today is Ginny, who looks equally horrified.

“What kind of sick person
would do something like this?” sweet little Ginny says. She’s nearly in tears.

I feel guilty.
It’s obviously my fault that someone has done this to our cadaver. I guess the blackmailer is sending me a message. And it’s working. Obviously I’m dealing with a sick person who has no morals.

I make some half-hearted attempt to hide the whole thing from Matt.
But Ginny is having none of that. The second Matt gets to our table, little Ginny speaks up, “Dr. Conlon, somebody did something terrible!”

As Matt surveys
the damage, I catch the look of growing horror on his face, “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened here?”

I
have to look away. If he sees my face, he’ll know something is up.

Matt, on his part, is
absolutely furious. He gets up in front of the class and makes a long, angry speech about competitive behavior. He has no clue.

He’s
still fuming later that day, when I come by his office.

“It’s really disgusting,” he says as I
sit down on his lap, “and to think, the person who did that is going to become a
doctor
someday. Disgusting.”

“Well, all med students are competitive,” I
remind him. “That’s how we got here in the first place.”

“There’s a difference between being competitive and
that
,” he says, shaking his head. “There are lines that can be crossed.”

Matt’
s obviously in major denial. He believes cheating is very wrong, yet he’s sleeping with The Queen of the Cheaters. He knows everything I did, but he must not really think about it. If he did, he’d probably be disgusted by me.

“It’s different with you,
Rachel,” he says, as if reading my mind.

“Why?” I
ask.

“You were very young,” he says.
“And you understand now that what you did is wrong.”

Seriously?
I was only a few months younger than I am right now when I tried to seduce him for a grade.

Yes, he is definitely in denial.

“Maybe it’s just different because you
want
it to be different,” I suggest.

Matt looks
up at me. I’m always amazed by how blue his eyes are. It always manages to catch me off-guard.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says
. He pulls me closer to him on his lap and kisses me on the lips. “Man, why couldn’t I have fallen for a girl who’s less corrupt?”

I kiss him back.
“I love you,” I say softly.

Our
eyes meet and the smile fades from his face. Say it, Matt. Tell me that you love me
.
Remind me why this is all worth it.

“I love you too,” he says
and I nearly sigh with relief. He raises his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh huh,” I manage.

Just peachy.
Can I have a copy of the exam, by the way?

“Good,” he says.
He leans in and kisses my nose. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Matt grabs his cane and hobbles out of the office.
I probably shouldn’t hang around in here because it’s a risk, but he shuts the door so I figure I’m safe.

I sit down in Matt’s chair, which is still warm from his body.
I absently play with one of his paperweights. The inscription on the marble weight reads “Dr. Matthew Conlon, Professor of the Year, 2012.”

Damn it.
I don’t want to screw up his life by getting him fired. But what can I do?

That’
s when my eyes fall on the computer.

The screensaver i
sn’t on and the desktop is in plain view. I see a folder on the desktop that is called “Anatomy.” I click on it, knowing that at Matt’s speed of walking, I have a good few minutes before he returns. I hadn’t really expected to find anything, but certainly not a folder called “Exams.” It seems almost too easy, like it has to be some sort of trick. But then again, Matt didn’t expect anyone to be nosing around his private computer.

I
click on the icon and it opens up a directory of a number of files. One of them is labeled “Final 2013.” When I click on it, I can see that I’m definitely staring at the final exam for my class.

My heart begins
to pound. This might be my only opportunity to obtain a copy of the exam and satisfy my blackmailer’s request. I take a deep breath and pressed the button to print the exam.

I e
ye the door to the office as the printer slowly,
slowly
lays down ink on the papers.

“Hurry up, goddamn it!” I
whisper to the printer, which has got to be the slowest printer in the history of the world.

I see
the images of muscles and nerves appearing on the blank papers and it’s all I can do to keep from ripping the papers out of the machine.

Just as the last page is finishing, I
hear Matt’s key fitting into the lock. I quickly close the documents on his desktop and yank the pages out of the printer, seconds before the door swings open. I fold the sheets in half and stuff them into the pocket of the jacket I had thrown on his chair.

When Matt enters
the room, it seems like he immediately knows what I did. I feel his eyes boring guilt into my chest. He trusted me. Then again, I did this for him. It wasn’t a betrayal—not really.

“Are you okay,
Rachel?” he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

I
nod weakly, “Yeah, I, uh… it’s been a hard day, I guess. I think I’m going to head home.”

“Of course,” he says softly.
“Lie down, get some rest.”

If he ever finds out what I did, that will be the end.
But he’s not going to find out.

_____

Heather isn’t home when I get back, but I still can’t bring myself to take out the exam in our
bedroom. Instead, I lock myself inside the bathroom. It’s the only place I’m safe.

I pull the exam out of my jacket pocket.
I have to admit, it’s sort of exhilarating to have it in my possession. Anyone in the class would have killed for a look at this. And I have it! I’m holding it in my hands right now!

I start flipping through the pages of the exam.
Okay, I stole it for the blackmailer, but there’s no reason I can’t look at it myself. I mean, yes, I earned that A on the last exam and that’s all well and good. But how can I turn down a
guaranteed
A? I’d be stupid
not
to look. It’s not like it really matters in the long run that I learn this stupid anatomy.

I’m on the second page of the exam when I start to feel an ache in my chest.
I can’t do this.

For the record, I still don’t think cheating is wrong.
Well, maybe I do a little bit. But what feels worse is betraying Matt. He trusts me. He believes I’m earning the grades I’m receiving. It’s important to him that I learn anatomy. If he knew I looked at this exam, it would
kill
him.

And moreover, he believes I’ve changed.
He believes I’m a good person, and I know it sounds dumb, but that makes me want to be a good person.

I’m not going to cheat ever again.
I’m done.

And even though Matt is sixteen years older than me and is my professor, maybe this can work out.
We’ll have to keep things quiet for a while, but I don’t mind the secrecy. It’s worth it. And then maybe someday I can bring him home to meet my parents and they’ll know for sure that I’m not a lesbian.

But first I
have to protect myself. And if that means giving in to the blackmailer, then so be it.