“Stay away from our talent,” Graham warns.
“The talent we built.”
“The talent I built. You were never a team player. That was your downfall, and continues to be your legacy.”
“And you tethered yourself, our company, and every one of its employees to the past. That will be yours.”
I click off, tossing the magazine back on the windowsill.
A set of four files I emailed to myself sits in my inbox.
The student essays. The three I read were predictable. Family legacy. Industry reputation. Becoming the first person with a professional degree.
There’s one I didn’t open yet.
Olivia’s.
It felt like invading her privacy.
But yesterday threw me. She’s not going to speak to me, yet I need a piece of her. She wrote this for my father, to him. I want to see her like he did.
Now, here in public, I open the essay.
I wanted to be a dancer for as long as I can remember. Most people think ballet is glamorous; it beautifies graceful women and men. When I tied the ribbons on my pointe shoes, it felt like I was going to war. I put my body through hell for a kind of competence. I thought my work would be rewarded, but it wasn’t. Because merit only counts for part of it.
They told me I couldn’t be a dancer when I was seventeen. I was crushed. I wish I could say I didn’t remember that time, but I remember every hour of every day. It was dark. I dragged myself to school, went through the motions, until we had a project to build a circuit board. It gave me something to focus on. I discovered science.
That’s what I love about designing and building. If you do everything right, you can win. No one can stop you. Science won’t stop you. Laws of thermodynamics and electricity don’t care about your face or your arches or your body weight or your parents. It’s a place I can belong.
And instead of helping it be hers, I’m standing in her way.
“Can I get you another coffee?”
I shut the screen of my notebook. I feel like someone’s punched me in the gut.
I blink up at the waitress, my throat tight. I shake my head and she leaves.
Maybe Graham’s right about one thing, and I did care too much about myself.
Conversation from the counter streams into my consciousness. A familiar female voice.
“…The defensive line was a letdown. I told those boys to shake off whatever’s going on and get their heads on straight.”
I turn in my chair to find Betty leaning over the counter talking to the barista.
“Sawyer?” She grabs her to-go cup and heads this way. “You tried the oat milk lattes in this place? Thing of beauty. Like our nemesis’ tackle last weekend.”
She drops into the chair opposite without an invitation, adjusting to get comfortable in the worn leather seat. “Honey, what’s eating you?”
“Did my father have close relationships with many of his students?”
Betty frowns. “I wouldn’t say close. Why?”
I rub a hand over my neck. “The dean said a student had a copy of his keycard to get into rooms.”
“Everyone does it, Sawyer. Who’re you thinking of?”
“Olivia Barclay. He spent time with her.”
“I know you’re used to looking for the worst in people. You can blame the dead all day long; they don’t have the breath to argue. But don’t you blame anything on that girl. Because she’s a doll and I will use more than my breath to set you straight.” Her eyes shine. “Now what else can we solve today?”
I’ve fucked my student and can’t seem to stop, even when she won’t let me touch her.
“My future business partner and I are trying to recruit students. Evidently it’s not enough to simply offer someone a job these days.”
“Students want to know an invitation is personal, specific. They want to feel like they matter.”
I rub a hand over my neck. “So I buy them all birthday cakes? Send them participation ribbons for deigning to take my class?”
She laughs. “In the last few years your father agreed to take on more service activities, like supervising the student projects, helping with the engineering club. I think that endeared him to them.”
“I’m already doing Stars, though I may have fucked that up.”
But Olivia was wrong when she said I was making them jump through stupid hoops.
I wanted to see what they were made of. School has a way of filling your mind without preparing you for the real world. That’s one gift I can give them. The doctorate I have in engineering is nothing compared to the one in life.
“You could try something truly radical to convince them you care.” Betty’s eyes shine.
At this point, I’ll try anything.
8
Olivia
When I sink gingerly into my seat in calculus, my hands balled into fists, I look good.
It’s a lie. I’m a damned mess.
My fingertips are sliced from working with wires in lab, and my ass is complaining.
It feels as if there’s an imprint of Sawyer’s hand on my flesh.
There probably is.
Sixty seconds indeed.
I’m sure it was his intention that I wouldn’t forget for long after I walked out the door, and he got his wish.
Whatever. I’m over it, and him. He has bigger problems than I can solve, and yesterday proved it.
My phone vibrates with a call—the number of the attorney, probably following up about the inheritance.
I could use the money. If what my dad said at the gala is true, I can’t rely on my parents. And I’m sure Lancaster would be satisfied to see it go to that purpose.
Plus, it’s none of Sawyer’s business. And as far as I’m concerned, neither am I.
Royce and Madison walk in the door, engrossed in conversation, and I shove the phone into my bag.
Royce spots me and comes over. Madison trails him, looking like she’d rather sit anywhere else but drops into the seat on his other side.
“You finish the homework?” he asks.
“Barely. You?”
“Most of it.” He grins and Madison rolls her eyes.
“That’s because you can’t stop playing NBA games on your Xbox.”
“Adam’s into those too. He’s really good.”
“Huh. I’ll have to challenge him sometime.” He pulls out his books. “Speaking of Stars, having Professor Redmond supervise is turning out great.”
I frown. “Were you part of the same lab session we all were in?”
“Yeah, but he sent me this email today. Asked what I wanted to do after school and gave me some options.”
All he gave me was a red ass.
“He’s kind of a genius,” Royce continues, oblivious. “He won all these awards here and at grad school, and he’s got more than two dozen patents.”
“I get it. He’s God’s gift to undergrad engineering,” Madison intervenes.
“That’s just it. He doesn’t have to be here. When he left his company, he made a lot on the deal. When I got into Russell on financial aid, I knew I’d get a good degree. I didn’t expect an experience like this. Now it feels like we have a real chance to make nationals for Stars. With that, plus a reference from Redmond, I’ll be able to go anywhere.”