the scene, but it was nice for three hot dudes to have my back.
I rapped on Dr. Gilpin’s door and a muffled voice hollered for me to come in.
I walked up to him with my hand extended. “Dr. Gilpin, I’m Senna Duncan. Thank you for seeing me.”
He was a disheveled man with kind, blue eyes and a pink face. He must have been a good fifteen to twenty years older than Benno, who’d explained that people usually taught for many years before joining a school’s administration. So I guess the man had spent a lot of time in the classroom in preparation for helping to run the university.
I scanned his office for a hint of what he might have taught before becoming a provost. It was hard to tell. All he had on his walls were photos of former administrators and a world map.
“Thanks for coming in, Senna. I’m sorry to hear you’re going through such a rough time.”
Shit. His kind words made my eyes well, but I willed myself not to cry. I didn’t know whether it was from relief that this person seemed like a nice guy, or if something paternal about him made me miss having my own dad.
I often wondered how my life would have turned out if Dad hadn’t run next door to ‘help out’ the man who’d occasionally borrowed his lawn mower and whom he always waved to when he was coming and going.
You just never knew what you were stepping into.
I remembered when it happened, when the gun fired. My mom ran next door and all I could hear was her screaming. Even though I was only ten, I knew to call 911 and give them my name and address. When the police arrived, they told me I’d been very brave and that they admired me for handling the call.
That was when I started handling everything in my life. My ten year old self was suddenly promoted to someone who had the responsibility of an adult, as my mother took to the couch, where she was probably lying at this very moment on this very day.
So after essentially bringing myself up, I figured I was ready for most anything. But navigating a university was about as foreign to me as anything I’d ever known. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for college, just like my mother had always told me.
“All right Senna, Professor Adler, who is a friend of mine, let me know you’ve had problems with a certain administrator, Krishelle Abalone.”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”
“And that she pressured you to withdraw from the university, even though you are receiving exemplary grades and haven’t missed a single class?”
“Yes.”
I wondered how much he knew.
Oh, fuck it. If he didn’t know everything, he deserved to.
“You see, she found out, via the school newspaper, that I have a job as a dancer at an adult club, and told me it was best that I left before I got kicked out.”
He shook his head slightly, looking puzzled. “Did she say why you would be expelled?”
“Essentially, she said I’d bring shame on the university if it got out.”
He looked down at his notes and rubbed his hand through his sparse hair. “Jesus.”
What did he mean? ‘Jesus’ that I was a go-go dancer? Or ‘Jesus’ that Abalone was full of shit?
“Do you know how the story ended up in the paper?” he asked.
“Yes, I do.”
I told him the whole story of Ty extorting me for dates and such. I even told him I wrote one of his papers to get rid of him, but that nothing had worked.
Dr. Gilpin shook his head in disbelief.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. Would you be willing to put all that down in a written statement? We need to address Ty’s behavior as well as Abalone’s. And there will be some discussion of your writing another student’s paper, but we’ll take care of first things first.”
“Of course I will. Thank you. Do you know what my penalty will be for writing Ty’s paper?”
He tilted his head. “It’s usually pretty severe. But given the circumstances, that you were basically pressured at the risk of losing so much, I think I can talk to the other administrators I’ll be discussing this with. They may be willing to drop this. As long as you never do it again.”
Sounded like he was assuming I’d get to stick around.
He took a deep breath and pulled from the bottom of a pile of papers the very withdrawal documents I’d signed