The Last Theorem - Arthur Charles Clarke [13]
While Ranjit himself had nothing at all to do…except to attend his boring classes in the uninteresting subjects that he didn’t care about in the first place. And then nearer worries appeared.
It happened at the end of the sociology class Ranjit had never liked. The teacher, whom Ranjit had liked even less, was a Dr. Mendis, and as Ranjit was about to leave, Mendis was standing in the doorway, holding the black-covered notebook he entered grades into. “I’ve just been going over the grades from last week’s exam,” he told Ranjit. “Yours was unsatisfactory.”
That wasn’t surprising to Ranjit. “Sorry, sir,” he said absently, peering after his rapidly disappearing classmates. “I’ll try to do better,” he added, poised to follow them.
But Dr. Mendis wasn’t through with him. “If you remember,” he said, “at the beginning of term I explained to the class how your final grade would be calculated. It is made up of the midterm examination, the spot quizzes given out from time to time, your classroom attendance and participation, and the final exam, in the proportion of 25 percent, 20 percent, 25 percent, and 30 percent. I must now inform you that, although you did do reasonably well on the midterm, your performance in the classroom and the spot quizzes is so far below an acceptable standard that you would have to get at least 80 percent on the final examination to get a low C for the course. I truthfully don’t think you are capable of that.” He studied the entries in his book for a moment, and then nodded and snapped it shut. “So what I suggest is that you consider taking an Incomplete for the course.” He raised a hand as though to ward off objections from Ranjit, although Ranjit had not been planning any. “I am aware, of course, that that will naturally cause a problem with your hopes for a continuing scholarship. But it would be better than an outright failure, would it not?”
It would, Ranjit was forced to agree—but not out loud, because he didn’t want to give Dr. Mendis the satisfaction. By the time he got out of the classroom, the one fellow student left in the hall was a Burgher girl, nice enough looking, some years older than himself. Ranjit was aware that she had been in the sociology class with him, but to him she had been simply another item in the lecture hall’s furnishings. He hadn’t had much to do in his life with Burghers, the name given to that small fraction of the Sri Lankan population who traced a significant part of their ancestry to one or another of the old European colonizers. Particularly with the female ones.
This particular female Burgher was talking on a cell phone, but closed it up as he approached. “Mr. Subramanian?” she said.
Ranjit stopped, in no mood for casual conversation. “Yes?” he barked.
She did not seem to take offense at his tone. “My name is Myra de Soyza. I heard what Dr. Mendis was saying to you. Are you going to do what he said and take an Incomplete?”
She was really annoying him. He said, “I hope not. Why should I?”
“Oh, you shouldn’t. All you need is a little study help. I don’t know if you’ve been noticing, but I’ve been getting straight A’s. I could tutor you, if you liked.”
That wasn’t anything Ranjit had expected to hear, and it immediately triggered his most suspicious reactions. He demanded, “Why do you want to do that?”
Whatever answer might have been true—perhaps simply that he was a good-looking young man—the one she gave was, “Because I don’t think Dr. Mendis is fair to you.” But she looked disappointed at his response, perhaps