A Star for Baby (boyxboy)

Virgo

Side note unrelated to this story... would you guys read a poetry book? I have SO many poems and I don't know if I should publish them or not.

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"Oliver, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Dr. Earle addressed Oliver directly as he was walking out of class. Oliver stopped short, immediately feeling his gut drop. He hated being in trouble. Especially if he didn't even know what it was about.

"Sure," is what he said, trying for a smile at his professor.

"Catch you later Oliver," one of his friends from the class said.

"Yeah, see you."

And then he was suddenly alone with his professor, stomach filled with dread. He resisted the urge to ask what he'd done wrong.

"Just come back to my office for a second."

He followed the professor to the back of the classroom, where he started rummaging in his desk drawers. Then he pulled a piece of paper out, and Oliver recognized it as his review of the orchestra performance. His brow furrowed in confusion. Had he not followed instructions?

"Do you know what I'm going to tell you Oliver?" Dr, Earle asked.

"No sir," Oliver felt himself starting to sweat under the collar.

Dr. Earle placed his hand on the paper and looked up directly into Oliver's eyes.

"This is by far the best review in the class Mr. Eze," he said.

Wait what?

"Have you written reviews before?"

"N-No," Oliver managed to stammer out. "This was my first one."

"Well it positively glowed. Your analytics mixed in with your wit was fantastic," Earle told him. "I want you to write more of these."

Oliver was sure he was gaping like a fish. "Are... are you serious?"

Earle raised an eyebrow. "Deadly. This is the first thing you've shown unique talent at Oliver."

Oof, that stung a little bit. Oliver knew he was average, but to hear it from a professor was a different matter altogether.

"As a junior, you need to start thinking about your future career. Have you had any internships yet?"

"Yeah, I mean," Oliver cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. "I worked at the Jersey Journal last summer, but the only thing they asked me to do was copy edit twice. I got coffee the rest of the time."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction. Creative writing is not your strong suit, and I think a career in analytical journalism would be a better fit."

"But I'm not a journalism major," Oliver said stupidly.

Earle raised an eyebrow again, then proceeded to gesture to the paper on his desk. "It doesn't matter what major you are if you can write like this. All you need is the right contacts and you can get a job in the journalism world, Mr. Eze."

"Oh," Oliver said.

"You need to work on honing these skills now," Earle said. "I want you to write a review a week for me."

"One a week?"

"If you ever work for a paper, they'll ask for two a day," Earle told him.

"What should they be about?" Oliver asked.

"Anything. Right now you should be trying to find your niche. Restaurants, video games, theater, music, movies, I want to hear it all. If you can write about anything the way you wrote about that orchestra performance I'll be a happy, happy man."