The following is my short story, Red Ink. This is on my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/lisamcferrenwrites but it got buried somehow. I decided to post it here. Enjoy!
The unexpected slamming of the front door startled Tina. She turned around on the brown leather couch, anticipating Amy's arrival in the room. From the sound of it, Tina concluded that Amy was extremely upset. She was correct.
"I am so sick of this class!" Amy screeched, bursting into the living room.
"I take it you had a rough evening?" Tina inquired, raising an eyebrow.
Amy walked up to the couch and sat down beside Tina. She held her research paper in her hand, scowling.
"This professor is ridiculous," she declared, running her fingers through her long, blond curls. "I have no idea what more I can do to make him happy! All that time I spent on research...all that time I spent slaving over this paper! I was positive that it was completely perfect. But look!!"
Amy thrust the paper in Tina's face. Tina took the paper from Amy and started examining it.
"See?!" Amy asked. The exasperation was clear in her voice.
"Red ink everywhere! This is the third time this has happened. First I was 'too concise'. Now, I'm 'too wordy'! I had a 4.0. I won't anymore after this class!"
Amy put her head in her hands, defeated.
Tina put her arm around her friend. She knew that Amy really had put a lot of effort into this paper, as well as into the other two papers she completed for this class. She hated to see Amy this upset about it, but she wasn't surprised. Amy was a perfectionist, and hated not being the best at everything she did.
"Maybe it isn't just you," Tina reasoned. "Have you asked anyone in your class how they're doing?"
"Yes, and it isn't just me," Amy replied, looking up with a sullen expression on her face. "There's this guy, David, who is a journalism major. He writes the best papers--he was the guy I did the first project with in this class, remember?"
Tina nodded, recalling David's presence in their apartment. He was kind of cute...
"This professor gave him a sixty-two on the last paper! I couldn't believe it!" Amy exclaimed. "He told me that the prof said there was a 'lack of content'. This paper was thirteen pages long! He showed me that paper. It was beautiful, for a history assignment!"
"Did he say anything to the professor?"
"I don't know. He hasn't been back to class since, and that was two weeks ago. He probably got so pissed that he dropped the class. You know what? I don't blame him!"
"Can you drop this class?"
"No. The deadline for drops passed a while ago...I should have. I can't. I need it to graduate!"
Amy sighed.
"I really wanted to graduate summa cum laude. I only have two classes left and they're cake classes! I can't believe that a history class will ruin it!"
Tina thought for a moment.
"Why don't you email the professor?" she suggested. "Don't most profs have office hours? Maybe he has extra credit or a special assignment you could do."
Tina paused. "What is your grade in that class, anyway?"
"'B plus," Amy grumbled, staring at the ground. "And I only have one week left!"
Tina rolled her eyes.
"Poor baby," she joked.
"You don't get it!" Amy cried, furious. "I really want this! This will be the first time I’ve ever been perfect at anything. I worked so hard for it!"
Amy stood up, trying to calm down.
"Maybe you're right. I'll email the prof. At this point, it couldn't hurt."
She quickly exited the room. Tina watched her go, shaking her head.
The next day, Amy found herself standing outside of Professor West's door. She was surprised that he responded so quickly to her email, and was even more shocked when he said he would meet with her the following day. She took a deep breath as she knocked on his door.
"Come in," she heard him reply.
Her slender fingers turned the doorknob. She carefully opened the door, unsure of what to expect; she noted that his blinds were closed. The professor sat at his desk, which was straight back from the doorway, located about ten feet away.
He folded his hands as he leaned forward in his chair. He looked at her, his brown eyes meeting her blue ones.
"Amy Baker. I understand you have some concerns about your grade in this course," he mused. He motioned at the chair in front of his desk.
"Have a seat."
Amy sat down, observing the professor as he pushed his glasses up with his thumb.
"I just wanted clarification on these papers," Amy slowly explained, opening her messenger bag and pulling out a blue folder. She removed the research papers from it and handed the papers to him.
He quickly thumbed through them, slowing down only when he examined the paper from last week.
"What would you like clarification on, Ms. Baker?"
Amy became uncomfortable under his intimidating stare.
"It, it looks like you docked me for being too wordy, but I--I disagree," she stammered. "I think it was necessary to be descriptive with the subject matter of the paper."
He stared at the paper for a moment. He then looked up at her.
"What would you like me to do, Ms. Baker? Change your grade?" he asked pointedly.
"Well, if you can't, maybe there is an extra credit assignment I could do?" she suggested. "I really want to improve my grade."
A puzzled look crossed his face.
"Ms. Baker, your work in this course is exemplary," he stated. "You have the highest score of everyone in your class. You have received 100 out of 100 on each test and quiz. Yet, you still wish to improve your grade."
He shook his bald head as Amy nervously shifted in her chair.
"I think I understand why, Ms. Baker. I am aware that you are nursing a 4.0, and you are almost finished with your coursework. You would like to keep that 4.0, am I correct in that assumption?"
"Yes, if it's at all possible," she hastily answered.
The smirk on the professor's face made Amy's more uneasy than she already was.
"I do not give extra credit assignments. I don't think it is fair; everyone should have the same assignments, and be graded accordingly." He stood up, staring at her. "That being said, a few of your classmates have also spoken to me about their grades in this class. In most cases, we came up with an amicable resolution. I believe, Ms. Baker, that we can come up with such a solution for your situation."
It was Amy's turn to be perplexed.
"Okay. What did you have in mind, sir?"
He moved from across the desk to where she was sitting in the black office chair. He stood above her, looking into her eyes.
"I have something you want...and you have something I want. I believe we can assist each other, if you will."
Amy shot up out of the chair, the alarm apparent on her face. Her eyes narrowed.
"With all due respect, sir, I am not that kind of a woman," she snarled. She whirled around and started storming out of the room. Sure, she wanted to receive an A, and would have done almost anything for it...but not that. She couldn't wait to let the dean know what had just happened.
The professor rushed past her and blocked the door, standing in front of it. The smirk had not left his face.
"You misunderstand me, Ms. Baker," he chided her. "I am not one of those professors that you see on television who exchanges sexual favors for good grades. If that is what you thought I meant, you are sorely mistaken. And, quite frankly, I am insulted."
Amy backed up a few steps, visibly embarrassed. Her face felt hot; she knew it was beet red.
"Professor West, I am so sorry!" she apologized, slightly fumbling her words. "I-I just thought that--"
"Never mind," he interrupted her. "I can understand where you would get such an idea. Perhaps it was in the context. Let me fully explain what I require of you."
He walked back to his desk, taking off his glasses and placing them upon it. He turned around to face her.
"All I need from you," he stated, "is some red ink."
Amy cocked her head to the side. Her blond curls fell in her face. She brushed her hair back.
"Excuse me?" Amy said, a puzzled frown on her face.
"I will say it again. I only require some red ink."
Amy was flabbergasted. Did he really just tell her that he needed red ink, of all things?
"Doesn't the university have a supply closet you could--"
"Ms. Baker, simply let me know if you are willing to exchange some red ink for a well-deserved A in my course. I assure you, it is not a secret code for anything sexual in nature."
Amy thought about it. This request seemed harmless--and maybe she could run to the campus bookstore and pick some up. It couldn't be that expensive, right? Hey, if it kept her from getting that B...if it could help her finally, after all these years, be perfect...
"Okay, I think I can do that for you," she nodded. "Do you have a specific brand that you use, or anything?"
He slowly walked up to her, leaving a small amount of space between them.
"I don't use a brand, per se," he said quietly.
Suddenly, his eyes started to change from their light brown to a deep red. His bicuspids became fangs. His metamorphosis continued, culminating when his fingernails turned to long, sharp claws.
Amy was paralyzed with fear. Before she could react, before she could even think about what to do, one of his claws dug deep into the vein in her left arm. Her eyes widened in horror. She winced as she felt the blood leaving her body, as if it were being sucked out through a straw.
"Red ink," she whispered.
A week later, Amy was in the classroom, finishing up her final exam. The professor told the class that he would be grading the test as soon as it was turned in, and averaging out final grades for the course. Anyone who wanted to know what they would receive for the course was welcome to stay. Of course, Amy was going to take advantage of that. As Amy went to his desk hand her exam to him, she passed by a classmate who was leaving the room. She noticed the mark on the girl's arm; it was similar to the mark that was healing on her own arm. They glanced at each other knowingly.
Amy waited patiently as Professor West graded her exam. He looked up at her.
"Ms. Baker. Your grade for the exam and for the course," he stated. His face had no expression as he handed back her exam.
Amy examined it. Written on top was the letter 'A'....in bright red ink.
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