The bottom line is they’re investigating and I’ll face professional sanctions. Possibly be fired.
“This is a despicable violation of school policy. Do you deny having a relationship with your student?”
“I don’t. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand it, either.”
The dean nearly drops his pen.
“When Miss Barclay and I met, it was outside of campus and school events. Our relationship began prior to her becoming my student.”
That does catch him off guard. “In what capacity did you know her?”
“In the capacity that we met and had a connection,” I toss back, even though he can’t possibly understand. “Have you ever met another person and felt like they could see under your skin? And maybe it was because they were different, like they were meant to see you. Or hell, they simply took the time and checked their preconceptions at the door.”
“So you had a physical connection. A sexual relationship would be gravely disturbing.”
“More than an emotional one?”
“We’re not here to debate—”
“You’re the ones who spend all day theorizing.” I pause. “I’m not here to explain our relationship to you. I’m telling you it didn’t get in the way of me doing my job.”
“Professor Redmond,” a woman, the vice provost, begins, “our aim is not interfering with the personal lives of students and faculty. However, it is our responsibility to ensure there are no conflicts of interest, undue pressure, or unfair favoritism.”
“And there was none.”
“You agreed to supervise the Stars team and, I understand, appointed Miss Barclay the lead.”
“If you’d seen what she did, you would’ve made her team lead, too.” At their silence, I force myself to go on. “You want to know what kind of favoritism I gave her? The kind where I pushed her. Asked her to do more than she knew she could. Built up her confidence. I reminded her that when she gets out of bed and puts her feet on the floor in the morning, she has everything within herself to achieve her dreams. If that’s not what faculty are expected to do, then forgive me, but I have no fucking clue what your job is.”
They make some notes on their papers.
“My Stars team,” I grind out. “I need assurances their work will resume.”
“In light of these allegations and to protect the university, I can see no other recourse than to shut down our participation in the committee immediately,” the dean says.
“What about that alumni donation we received?” Betty looks up from her computer, and I frown.
“What donation?”
Every set of eyes flies to the dean, who shifts in his seat. “Olivia Barclay’s father made a contribution to the school.”
“He requested the funds be directed to offset costs associated with the Stars project,” Betty presses.
“And you responded by trying to compromise their efforts?” I say, my voice deadly low.
The only explanation is that he intended to use those funds for other purposes than the ones for which they were intended. It would make sense—if the team didn’t make it past the next stage, he could tell the donor the funds were already used.
Except…Olivia’s father is in financial difficulty. How could he support the team when he won’t even help with tuition?
One of the women leans in. “Didn’t the team qualify for nationals for the first time in a decade?”
I nod. “They’re presenting a justification next week.”
The vice provost purses her lips. “Dean, perhaps it makes sense to see how this next step of the process goes before making any decision about the team’s future.”
He realizes he’s in a bind. He wants to shut the team down, either to screw me over or save money, and I wish I knew why.
For today, he can’t.
That doesn’t mean he won’t try again tomorrow.
When he walks me to the door, it’s my turn to pause. “How much did her father give?”
He hesitates. “Fifty thousand.”
Fifty thousand. That number scratches at the back of my mind.
I’m two steps out the door when I reach for my phone.
25
Olivia
I get Sawyer’s text in the middle of my final class of the day.
Repentant Asshole: The team can continue its work. I’m on probation pending the committee’s investigation.
Liv: I need to see you.
Repentant Asshole: I’m going to New York to see Tate. We’ll talk when I’m back.
My gut twists. I hadn’t even thought about the implications for Sawyer’s future business.
We haven’t had a moment to talk since the party. I want to tell him I’m thinking of him every second. I hope he knows my mind’s on him whether I’m at school, grabbing a dinner I can barely eat, or teaching.
When I wrap up my final class, I head to the library to meet with the team. Our justification is due in another week, and none of the drama on our campus is going to change that.
“This is where Madison talks about how we designed the tail functionality, mimicking nature. Then there’s the section on the novel applications of circuitry…where is that section?”
I look up across the scattered photographs and printed pages at Royce, who’s seated across the table in the campus library.
He shrugs, irritated. “I dunno where the section went. Adam was going to write it.”
I turn to Adam, who’s fiddling with the strap on his backpack. “I didn’t see it, did you send it to me?”
He doesn’t answer. Evidently he’s still not speaking to me.
“Maybe you didn’t see it because Professor Redmond didn’t send it. It was crowded out of your inbox by all the dick pics.”
I told Sawyer I would keep the team on track. I’m not the one on trial, which means my job should be easy.
In the past forty-eight hours, I scoped out the tank we’d use to demo our robot after the holidays.
Yet somehow, the team is falling apart.
We won’t, I vow. If it’s the only thing I can do, I’ll hold this group together. We’ve worked too hard for this.
“This goal is bigger than all of us. Let’s come together and make the justification happen.” I think of Sawyer talking about how to pitch. “This is our chance to show the judges we’re contenders.”
“Don’t blame Professor Redmond,” I say.
“I don’t. I blame you.” Everyone in the study desks looks up at Adam’s loud voice.
I’ve been leading this project and was thrilled by the chance to challenge myself and try new things. But at this moment, I’m flushed and overwhelmed.
Royce weighs in. “I get that she was your girlfriend but if it’s about more than getting dick punched in the ego, then act like it.”
“Thanks for having my back,” I say, following Royce to the water fountain to refill my water bottle.
“What was your plan here?” he asks, turning.
“What do you mean?”
“There are only two ways out, no matter how charmed your life is or what family you come from. Either you’re the victim, the chick with wide eyes who got taken advantage of, or you’re the girl who slept with her professor to get ahead.”