Chapter 2 — In the Shadows of Greatness
Jamie
The morning sunlight filtered through the high, arched windows of Whitmore Hall, casting elongated patterns of ivy shadows across the polished wooden floors. Jamie Calloway adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses and tugged at the sleeves of his cardigan, the soft fabric a small comfort in the bustling world around him. The building hummed with life: the rhythmic click of heels against the floor, the soft murmurs of students discussing readings, and the occasional laughter spilling from the stairwell. It was a symphony of academia, and Jamie felt like an observer peering into a world he wasn’t sure he belonged in.
He paused outside the seminar room where he would be assisting Professor Hart later that day. The schedule for the week’s discussion was taped to the door in her elegant handwriting—precise, looping, and somehow intimidating. He traced a finger over the graceful curves of her script, pretending to commit it to memory. In truth, he was stalling, his nerves bubbling beneath the surface.
His morning had begun with the usual ache of familial expectations. His inbox brimmed with emails from his family, their messages carefully worded but bristling with the same undercurrent: When will this phase be over? His father had sent another article titled “Top Careers for Millennials,” as if literature might miraculously appear on the list through sheer persistence. His mother’s email was gentler, but her mentions of “real-world opportunities” only deepened the knot in his chest. He could still hear his father’s pointed remark from last Thanksgiving: “Hobby degrees are fine, but they don’t pay the bills.” The memory burned like a fresh wound.
Jamie exhaled sharply, shaking off the thoughts. Today wasn’t about his family; it was about proving himself to her. Ellie Hart. Dr. Hart. The Professor. The woman who had delivered the kind of lecture yesterday that made him want to crawl under the hard wooden desks and take notes on how she breathed. The way she had dissected the text, weaving its themes into the fabric of their lives, had left him awestruck. And terrified.
“You’re going to burn a hole in that paper if you keep staring at it,” came a familiar, teasing voice.
Jamie turned to find Lucas Grant, his mentor, leaning casually against the wall. Lucas’s flannel shirt was untucked, and his ever-present baseball cap sat askew on his head. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a book in the other, his grin wide and irreverent.
“I wasn’t staring,” Jamie muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Sure you weren’t. You had that ‘existential crisis in progress’ look again.” Lucas smirked. “What’s it this time? Did Whitmore Hall offend your delicate sensibilities, or are you just terrified of Hart?”
Jamie groaned, running a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair. “I’m not terrified of her. She’s just… impressive.”
“Understatement of the year,” Lucas said, chuckling. “She’s a force of nature. But don’t worry, man. She doesn’t bite. Much.”
Jamie shot him a look, but Lucas only grinned wider. “Seriously,” Lucas continued, his tone softening, “what’s eating you? You’ve got that deer-in-the-headlights thing going on. It’s your first semester as a TA. No one’s expecting you to reinvent the wheel. Just show up, do the work, and don’t trip over your own feet.”
Jamie shifted his weight, clutching the strap of his worn messenger bag. “It’s not just that. What if I screw up? What if she thinks I don’t belong here?”
Lucas’s grin faded, replaced by something steadier. “Listen, man. Everyone feels like an imposter at first. Hell, I still do sometimes. But you’re here for a reason. Hart wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t see something in you. Remember that.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “And if that doesn’t help, think about this: nobody’s actually paying as much attention to you as you think they are. They’re too busy worrying about their own stuff.”
Jamie managed a small, hesitant smile. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Lucas clapped him on the shoulder. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “And hey, if all else fails, just imagine Hart in one of those cheesy academic robes. Works every time.”
Jamie chuckled despite himself, the knot in his stomach loosening slightly. Alone again, he glanced at the schedule one last time before turning away. The hallway was bustling now, students and faculty weaving through the narrow space with the kind of confidence that made Jamie feel even more out of place. He ducked his head and made his way to the department’s mailroom.
The mailroom was a cramped space tucked into the corner of Whitmore Hall’s ground floor. Its walls were lined with wooden cubbies, each labeled with the name of a faculty member or teaching assistant. Jamie found his own cubby and pulled out a stack of papers—graded essays, departmental memos, and a folded note addressed to him. The handwriting was unfamiliar, angular and sharp, but the contents made his pulse quicken.
“Dr. Hart has requested to meet with you after the seminar. Her office. 3:30 PM.”
Jamie stared at the note, his heart thudding in his chest. Was this about his work? Had he done something wrong? He stuffed the note into his pocket, his mind awhirl with possibilities.
---
By the time the seminar began, Jamie felt like he had aged several years. The room was small but bright, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and illuminating the faces of the ten or so students seated around the table. Ellie Hart stood at the head of the room, her auburn hair twisted into a loose chignon, a tailored blazer and silk blouse accentuating her commanding presence. She glanced at Jamie as he entered, her sharp green eyes assessing but unreadable.
“Ah, Mr. Calloway,” she said, her tone as measured as ever. “Take a seat. We’re just getting started.”
Jamie slid into the empty chair beside her, trying to suppress the clamminess of his palms. As Ellie began to speak, he found himself mesmerized once again. She had a way of making even the most abstract literary theories feel vivid and alive. Her voice wove through the room like a needle, stitching disparate ideas into a cohesive whole. The students hung on her every word, and Jamie couldn’t blame them. She was brilliant.
When she paused to ask a question, Jamie’s heart sank as the room fell silent. The students exchanged nervous glances, none willing to venture an answer. Ellie’s gaze flicked to Jamie, and he felt the weight of her expectation.
“Well, Mr. Calloway?” she prompted, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Any thoughts?”
Jamie swallowed hard, his mind scrambling for something—anything—intelligent to say. “I, uh… I think the text is exploring the idea of… of duality. The tension between what’s seen and what’s hidden.”
Ellie tilted her head, her expression sharpening with interest. “Interesting. Go on.”
He hesitated, but her tone was encouraging. He took a breath and continued, the words flowing more easily as he built on his initial idea. By the time he finished, the students were nodding, and Ellie offered him a small, approving smile.
“An insightful observation, Mr. Calloway,” she said. “Thank you for sharing.”
Jamie felt a flicker of pride, warmth spreading through his chest. He sat a little straighter as the seminar continued, the lingering fear of failure momentarily eclipsed by her acknowledgment.
---
As the seminar ended and the students filed out, Jamie lingered, his nerves fraying with each passing second. He turned his gaze to the sunlight spilling across the table, trying to collect himself.
“Shall we?” Ellie said, her voice pulling him from his thoughts.
Jamie nodded mutely and followed her to her office. The walk felt interminable, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As they reached her office, Ellie held the door open for him, then closed it behind them with a soft click.
“Please, have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chair across from her desk.
Jamie sat, clutching the strap of his messenger bag like a lifeline. Ellie settled into her chair, her bracelet catching the light as she steepled her fingers. The charm, shaped like an open book, jingled softly as she moved.
“I wanted to speak with you about the seminar,” she began. “Your contributions today were thoughtful and insightful. You have a keen analytical mind, Mr. Calloway.”
Jamie blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ellie’s gaze softened, and for the first time, Jamie thought he saw a glimmer of warmth behind her poised exterior. “I know this role can be daunting, especially for someone just starting out. When I was in your position, I often felt like I had to prove myself every second of the day. But you’re doing well. Don’t let self-doubt hold you back.”
Jamie felt his throat tighten, her words striking a chord he hadn’t expected. He nodded, his grip on his bag loosening slightly. “I’ll… I’ll try. Thank you.”
Ellie offered him a brief, reassuring smile before returning her attention to the papers on her desk. “That’s all. Thank you, Mr. Calloway.”
Jamie stood, his heart lighter than it had been all day. As he left her office, he allowed himself a small, hopeful smile. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely out of his depth after all.
