Chapter 4: Fifty Studies

His office was at the end of the fourth-floor hall, with his name already on a brass plate.

He left the door open behind me.

I almost wished he'd shut it. Half the class was pretending to wait for the elevator.

He sat down and held out his hand without looking up.

"Sketchbook."

I gave it to him.

He turned the pages slowly, one by one.

"Laurel," he said. "Do you know what I'm going to do with you?"

"Fail me?"

"Turn you into my best student." He flipped another page. "God knows there's room."

He laid the sketchbook flat and pointed with the end of a pencil.

"Weak line work. You're scared of the paper."

He pointed again.

"Terrible proportions. This arm would reach his knee."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling great today."

"Neither was the man you drew. Look at him. He's dying."

I bit the inside of my cheek.

"What do you call me?" he asked.

"Beckett."

"Try again."

"We live in the same house."

"You're on campus."

I made myself say it.

"Professor."

"Professor Lockwood." He closed the sketchbook. "And don't expect special treatment because your father married my mother."

"I don't expect anything from you."

"Good. Stand up."

I stood.

He came around the desk and stopped in front of me.

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