Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
When the instructor clears her throat and announces that our time is up, I drop my pen and release a breath of relief. My wrist is sore as hell, and my fingers are numb and locked in a claw position, but I don’t care, because I did it. I answered the motherfuckin’ question! I filled two pages, and I feel like I’ve just finished a 10K marathon.
On shaky legs, I walk down the steps to hand in my paper. The instructor sets it on the pile with the other booklets and smiles as she bids me goodbye. I smile back, but it’s a tight, strained smile. The panic is setting in again, because I notice that a lot of the other students are handing in not one but two booklets. They wrote so much that they had to ask for extra paper? I wonder how many booklets Violet filled up. Ten, I bet.
God, why couldn’t I have been born an overachiever?
I’m glummer than glum as I hitch my messenger bag over my shoulder and exit the building. Outside, the air is frigid, and the wind is brisk. Winter’s coming, and I’m looking forward to it about as much as the Starks in the north. And that’s just another mistake the underachieving Jess Canning could’ve avoided—spend more time studying and less time binge-watching Game of fucking Thrones. Maybe if I hadn’t wasted so much time on pointless shit these past couple of years, I wouldn’t be a twenty-six-year-old first-year nursing student who probably just bombed her final exam.
Wonderful. I’m feeling sorry for myself again.
What happened to me? I used to be so confident. But it’s like something has slowly been chipping away at my self-esteem ever since I graduated from high school.
I watched all my siblings accomplish their goals. All my friends killed it in college and now have successful careers. The friends who didn’t have a driving career passion still found passion in other ways, like Darcy, who married the best guy on the planet and just had her first kid. She emailed me a few weeks ago and admitted that being a wife and mom is the most rewarding thing she’s ever done.
And me? I’m struggling with yet another career path, and I don’t think I’ve ever been in a relationship that I would classify as “rewarding.”
Okay, enough. Pity party’s over, missy.
I draw a breath. Yeah, I need to stop wallowing. It’s totally counterproductive.
I head back to the dorm, where I take the shower I was forced to skip earlier. Then I crawl into bed and pass out, catching up on all the sleep I missed during my ten-day cram session.
When I wake up, the room is bathed in darkness. A weary glance at the alarm clock reveals that it’s a little past seven. I slept for seven straight hours. Awesome. Now I’ll be up all night. Why didn’t I set an alarm?
A peek at my phone shows a missed text from Jamie.
Jamie: How did the final go? Tell us over an early dinner?
It was sent at five, so I’m not sure if he and Wes have eaten already yet. But I’m starving, so I sit up and dial his number.
“Hey,” I say after he picks up. “Just got your message. I was napping.”
“I figured.” He chuckles. “God, I do not miss college. The thought of cracking open a textbook again makes me shiver in horror.”
“It’s not fun,” I agree.
“So how do you think you did this morning? A-plus or A-plus-plus?”
“Neither. But I’d give up my firstborn for a C-plus. That’s all I need to pass.”
“Eh, you can pump out a C-plus in your sleep. You’ve always been one of the smart Cannings.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Uh, right. I’m one of the smart Cannings? “That’s very sweet of you to say, but we both know I’m at the bottom of our family smarts ladder.”
“Bullshit,” he argues. “Joe didn’t even learn how to spell his name—all three letters of it!—until he was five. Mom told me.”
I gasp. “Oh my God, really? I am so bringing that up at Christmas!”
“And Scottie almost flunked out of the police academy,” Jamie reminds me.
“Yeah, but that’s because he was getting drunk with all the other cadets every night instead of studying, not because he’s a dum-dum.”
“True.” Jamie’s voice softens. “But you’re not a dum-dum either, Jessie. You know that, right?”
“Right,” I say lightly before changing the subject. “Anyway, are you guys still up for dinner?”
“Aw, actually, no. We ended up going to this Indian place after we didn’t hear from you. Wes was grumbling about how hungry he was and didn’t want to wait.”
“That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’d invite you over to raid our fridge, but it’s probably better if Wes and I have some alone time tonight. He’s all cranky because his practice was a complete disaster today.”