Chapter 79: Trey: A Gentleman

TREY

Mondays are the worst day of the week, and anyone who disagrees should be sent to a labor camp where they can enjoy all the work they want to do.

Somehow, those people never get much of it. I get stuck with three hours of Mr. Hargrove, who hasn’t made it through a class without finding a problem with me.

The man hates me, and loathes doesn’t quite cover the effort he puts into it. I’m less committed on my end. Sometimes I wish he’d turn into a cactus in the wilderness, but I’m willing to let him grow there undisturbed. If I actually hated him, I’d be hoping someone drove over him.

Two hours in, he’s eyeing my flannel like it came out of his closet. I’m trying to get through the last hour without becoming part of the lesson, but he’s asked a question and is looking at no one except me.

"Trey Mercer, can you help us out?"

My fingers tighten around the desk as I look down at my iPad. All I’ve written is a scribble, and it won’t help me answer his question.

"Hargrove’s in love with you," Patrick mutters beside me.

We’ve been sitting together since August, and he’s getting too comfortable for someone within strangling distance. People turn toward me while I keep looking at the screen, hoping Hargrove will give up.

"Did you catch the question, Mr. Mercer?" he asks.

"No." I lift my head. "Can you repeat it?"

Hargrove’s expression darkens, but he obliges.

"You’re building a model to classify tumor samples using gene-expression data. You have twenty thousand gene-expression features and only a hundred patient samples. Why is overfitting a concern, and how would you address it?"

I’ve read this somewhere. It was in the material for the paper he assigned, which Sadie wrote for me. Letting her handle it seemed like a good decision at the time, but now I’m trying to remember how far I got before handing it over. Hargrove keeps looking at me, perfectly willing to spend the rest of my degree waiting for an answer.

"The model could learn the training samples too closely instead of finding patterns that work on new patients," I answer. "You’d use fewer genes and test it on samples it hasn’t seen."

That should be enough for him to move on. It isn’t wrong, and I had nothing a minute ago.

"How would you select those genes?" he asks. "Would you perform feature selection before or within cross-validation, and why does that distinction matter?"

My mistake was giving him something he could ask another question about. He can’t accept that I’ve participated and leave me alone.

I glance at my iPad, but the scribbles won’t help. I could try another answer, but he’d want me to explain that, too.

"I don’t know."

He plants both hands on his hips and watches me from the podium. There are more than seventy people in this class, and with how often he does this, a few must think we used to date. Why else would he need this many answers from me?

Hargrove takes a deep breath, and I lean back. I should’ve said I didn’t know from the start.

"Five years ago, my son was hit by a drunk driver—"

Here comes the sermon. I know it by now because he tells this story almost every time he puts me on the spot. His son was hit before he could shift and has dealt with chronic pain and post-traumatic stress ever since. I’m sorry it happened. I just don’t know how we got from feature selection to hearing about it again.

Maybe I do know why he tells the story. His son had plans, and now things he used to take for granted are difficult, while Hargrove thinks I’m wasting my opportunities. But what am I supposed to do with that? I might have been playing hockey when the accident happened. Answering this question won’t change it.

"You should not take your success, or your ability to be in this room, for granted," he says, bringing my attention back. "Especially those of you who will lead a pack in the future."

He gives me one last look before returning to the lecture, and I use my newly acquired freedom to check my phone. A reminder is waiting on the screen, which I tap before remembering I’m supposed to visit Grandma.

I almost forgot. It’s the first week of a new month, and with everything I have coming up, today is probably my best chance to go.

She always loves it when I visit. Not many people go to see her, and the nurses joke that her episodes start disappearing a few days before I arrive. Last time, she insisted I bring a friend with me on my next visit, so now I have to figure out who’s available.

I push a hand through my hair and stretch my legs under the desk. Walker is working on pieces for his exhibition, and Nash has his own stuff to get through today. Picking a random teammate to spend the afternoon with Grandma would require more explaining than I’m willing to do.

That leaves Sadie, who has a study group today if I remember her schedule correctly. Still, the group won’t fall apart because she misses one session.

They can have her back later, and Grandma gets to meet someone she’d actually enjoy talking to.

It’s about a two-hour drive, though, which Sadie might have opinions about if I mention it before she agrees to come. I’ll ask if she wants to hang out and leave the destination for when we’re on our way.

[Explain the situation to Sadie,] Trex interrupts. [Your barbaric days are over. Be a gentleman.]

I suppress a growl. "You wanted to kidnap her after she moved in. Maybe sit this one out."

[She would’ve been fed properly. Given a new phone. Several other benefits.]

"You’re not making the kidnapping sound better."

[What have you done for her that wasn’t my idea?]

"Plenty."

[She gave you a chance to prove yourself. Burning her breakfast doesn’t count.]

My fingers stop over the screen. "You think I’ve been sitting on my ass doing nothing?"

[Her scent torments me all day. I want her wolf. We’d have claimed her by now if I didn’t have to go through you.]

"Forgive me, wise wolf, but she doesn’t shift yet. You’re not getting acquainted with her wolf anytime soon, so keep your urges to yourself. I don’t need you making me feel them."

His growl builds inside my head. [Tell her where you’re taking her. Must I teach you how to court her? If she shuts us out again, I will withdraw into hibernation. You will endure her rejection without me.]

I push him back before he gives me any more instructions and open Sadie’s messages. Asking if she’s free in an hour is a better use of my time than listening to him.