Shredded (37 page)

My devious and illegal planning is interrupted by O’Reilly’s secretary poking her head into the office. “Dr. Jenkins?”

“Yes?” Dad and I both say, twisting around in our chairs. I’m sure he’s replaying his patient list for today in his head like me, attempting to guess who might have taken a turn for the worse or be in need of further consultation.

“This Dr. Jenkins,” she says, pointing at me. “You have a speaking engagement in thirty minutes?”

I groan, remembering. “Fuck,” I mumble, but not low enough to avoid being heard. I stand up and wiggle my chair back into place. I’m only an intern for a few more weeks, so what will O’Reilly do if I skip out on this stupid task?

Dad looks like he wants to say something more, but I wave him off and bolt out of there. I don’t want to hear any patronizing speeches about everything turning out okay.

And to add an extra blow to my day, I have to face Justin and the smirk he’s wearing right now.
He knows
.

How the hell does he know already?

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and take a deep breath before approaching him. Justin holds out a wad of twenty-dollar bills.

“Who told you?” I say, staring down at the money.

He shrugs. “Word gets around. And no, I’m not going to say I’m sorry you flunked your test, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“We both know you’re not sorry.” I glare at him. “Put your fucking money away. I don’t want it.”

He has to jog to keep up with my brisk pace. “What are you gonna do now? Where are you going to go?”

My fist pounds against the elevator button. “Somewhere you’re not.”

“Well, I’ll be
here
, so …” His grin broadens.

It’s hard to keep the shock from my face. As the elevator doors open, I reach over and snatch the money from his hand. “On second thought, I’ll take the cash.”

“You’re right.” He leans against the elevator wall. “I’m not sorry you failed, Izzy. And it’s quite possible I hope you fail in your next somewhere-that-isn’t-here location.”

I can’t freakin’ believe O’Reilly’s giving him a resident position in this hospital. My dad’s home base. My second home, practically. My stomach sinks, replaying every piece of the conversation I’ve just walked out on. My body has physical aches at the thought of this failure, of my lack of direction. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I’ve been around this campus and university hospital since I was twelve years old. Leaving this and moving to Baltimore wouldn’t have been easy (though I’d gladly accept the challenge), especially not for someone like me, who places a lot of value on staying in the same spot for long periods of time. I’ve lived in Evanston with my parents since I was five, but there’s still always that fear that something might happen and I might go back to not having a permanent home, like when I was with eight different foster families during the first five years of my life. It was so lonely it hurts to think about. In fact, I haven’t let myself think about this in years.

But right now I feel a hollow emptiness that comes with having my life thrown off track. It’s no different from when I was floating between homes—I wasn’t good enough for the last family, or the one before that. And now I’m not good enough to be allowed to practice medicine on my own.

Experience the first rush of love
eOriginal New Adult fiction from Random House
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