AN: More Professor!verse.
Firsts.
It was no secret Professor Zane's Advanced Biochemistry course was the class that made or broke aspiring young med students' careers. Throughout the department, his tough reputation had grown exponentially over the semesters. Furthermore, no matter the pressure from above, he kept his extraordinarily high standards – often failing more wannabe doctors than he passed. However, due to his brilliance in the field, the university was forced to continue to employ him and pay him larger salaries by the year. And yet…perhaps because of the challenging stigma surrounding the class, there was always a waiting list.
On the eve of the Fall semester, the handsome doctor prepared as usual, reviewing notes and updating slides, wondering what, if anything, would set this course apart from the others.
On the first day of the school year, in his Monday – Wednesday – Friday section, a petite girl arrived early, carefully selecting her seat, first row, in the exact center. From his podium, Zane carefully sipped his Grande Americano, barely bothered by her presence. He had seen these types before – high school valedictorians, given everything from an early age, and more often than not, failing out after the first exam.
And yet…
He noted her conservative clothing selection. Unlike many of the other young women in the lecture hall, this one wore a knee length skirt and a somewhat retro inspired twin set. The electric blue highlights that permeated her black hair made him take pause...perhaps there was more to her than he originally believed.
In the first week, she began to set herself apart by asking intelligent and provoking questions. He recognized she was not trying to get his attention, but that she was genuinely fascinated with the subject.
On the first test, she set the curve for grading…causing many of her classmates to receive lower grades than expected.
The first time and only time she was absent, he worried. In a section of over two hundred students, he looked forward to seeing her every other day, and missed seeing her over the weekend. Would she return? Had something happened to her?
On the Monday following her missed class, she was there again. After class, he asked casually, "Where were you?"
It was the first time they had spoken outside the context of professor and student.
Shyly, she looked down, then back at him and answered politely, "My father arrived. He made a donation at the museum. I was required to be there."
With her response, she ducked out of the lecture hall, pulling the Burberry trench closely around her. Back in his cramped office, listening to the drizzle patter on his window, he looked up events from the previous week in the campus newspaper. She hadn't been lying. There, in black and white, was a picture of the world famous photographer, Peter Michaels and daughter, Amy. She looked smaller in a public context, and he found himself believing he should have been there to protect her…escort her…something.
On the last day of the semester, instead of looking forward to the winter break ahead, he was surprisingly melancholy, but couldn't place or admit to the reason.
As he turned his grades over to the department, Amy Michaels received the first A+ he had ever given.