CHAPTER 8
KENDRICK
The students trickle into the gating area well before Byndley told them to arrive. I appreciate their being here. It comforts me that I don’t have to worry that they’ll miss the plane.
While I mean to stay on my feet for a while, I find that I’m sitting at the end of one of the rows and mindlessly playing cards on my tablet. There’s quiet talking all around me, though I don’t necessarily hear anything specific. Just background voices.
I’m distracted when Zarek gets up and walks by me, taking a seat beside Anna and Philomena. It’s the way he moves that catches my attention. As if he’s… angry.
I shift in my seat to look at him. Yep, the vibe I thought I got was correct. He’s not happy right now.
“Tell me, ladies, do you buy into the stereotype that girls will be girls? They’re only good for gossip and mean-girl talk?” Zarek asks.
Anna shakes her head while Philomena looks disgusted.
“Then I’m baffled as to why you’re enforcing that stereotype.”
“What?” Anna asks, horrified.
“You don’t think judging a person based solely on the way they look and the fact that they’re an athlete is above mean-girl talk?”
I raise a brow as the girls look mortified.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“You didn’t think, right? You didn’t know you were being overheard, and that makes it okay to voice your toxic thoughts out loud.
You thought it was okay to say some bitchy shit about a person you’ve never spoken to based on his appearance and that he’s an athlete.
Somehow, because you’re over here whispering your nasty little words, you think it’s okay. ”
Both girls look like they’re about to cry. Philomena wipes her eyes and shakes her head.
“You two are on notice. I’m embarrassed to have you along on this trip. So far, the impression I’m getting from you two is not what we want representing our university.” Zarek gets to his feet and returns to his seat.
The girls look at me, and I see more horror once they know that I’m privy to the exchange. As are Katai, sitting behind me, and Byndley to my right. The three of us are looking at the girls with their red cheeks and tears in their eyes.
I sigh. It’s far too much to hope that people grow out of that behavior.
Knowing that we’ll be boarding soon, I get to my feet and stretch my legs. The door to the air bridge opens, and I watch absently as passengers disembark. When the gaggle becomes stragglers, I search the area for Brevan.
He’s as far away from us as he can get, staring out the window. I have a feeling he overheard Anna and Philomena’s whispers, whatever they’d been. Apparently, not kind.
Perhaps I chose wrongly.
Minutes pass. I keep Brevan in my periphery. He remains right where he is, staring out the window at the plane until the pre-boarding announcements. I can almost see his reluctance as he comes closer.
I’m relieved when Wendy and Jerome sandwich him on either side and attempt to pull him into conversation. His eyes move around us. I can see how tense his shoulders are. Whatever ease he’d brought with him has faded.
I keep them in front of me while we board.
We’re not in first class, but comfort plus, so we board second.
The Airbus is large. Large enough that there’s a middle row and aisles on both sides.
In this section, where the seats are wider and there’s more space between them, the aisles on the sides of the plane have two seats and the middle row has three.
Looking beyond the comfort plus seating, you can see the aisle shift inwards as a third seat is added to the outside rows so instead of seven seats across the width of the plane, there are now nine.
Byndley booked three rows of two seats on the left side of the plane and two rows of two on the right.
Byndley, Katai, Zarek, and I are in a center three-seat row and one seat in front of ours.
Katai grabs the single seat before we board.
I immediately note that Brevan is sitting on the opposite side of the plane from Anna and Philomena. He’s sharing a row with Jerome.
I take a seat in the middle of the three seats once my bag is stored overhead.
Zarek sits on my right, close to the girls, while Byndley is on my left.
I have a clear view of Brevan from right here, and while he remains in conversation with Jerome, I can almost see that he looks…
dejected? Is that the right word? Sad anyway, but I think more than that.
“I’d like to ship them home,” Zarek mutters.
“What happened?” Byndley asks before I can. “All I heard was your scolding, though from what I gleaned, I can probably guess.”
“The words dumb jock and token hot guy to ‘round out our diverse representation’ were thrown out,” Zarek says, throwing the girls another glare.
I frown. “While I certainly don’t condone that kind of conversation, I’m gonna need to ask you to stop glaring at them, Zarek.”
Byndley snorts.
Zarek huffs, scowls, but nods his agreement.
“I haven’t had many conversations with Brevan, but I can attest that he’s a kind, sweet soul who certainly appears to have some self-confidence issues, so overhearing their bullshit most likely hit him hard since they were voicing what he already believes about himself. ”
My eyes flicker up to Brevan. He’s watching out the window now, no longer talking to Jerome. Jerome is poking around on his phone.
“Perhaps we’re going to need to modify our applications, though I’m unsure how to weed that kind of behavior out,” I say while I continue to watch Brevan. I hate the sad aura hanging around him. He looks down at his phone, and I think he must have received a text since he taps away on his screen.
“We’ll think on it. We’ve been in talks with Denmark and Germany for the next trip, and that’s just under a year out. We have time to rethink how we choose our ambassadors,” Byndley says.
I’d thought removing every piece of identifying information and letting the facts speak for themselves was going to work out best. Yes, we have a diverse group of individuals, especially once I see them in person.
It proves that when you take all identifying information out—everything—when pulling from an already diverse pool, you’re going to get a pretty rainbow of individuals.
We’re already a queer campus, so I knew that selecting queer students was going to be easy.
It was highly unlikely that I’d end up with a group of self-proclaimed straight students.
Though, on a side note, we conduct surveys of our students every year for research purposes with a lot of demographic information, and I’m surprised to see that only seventeen percent of our student body identifies as straight.
Likewise, when that same research survey is given to the staff, only three percent identify as straight.
One of the most interesting questions on the survey is a progressive question that begins with how long they’ve been with RDU and whether they’ve changed how they identify, and based on what factors.
Overwhelmingly, the answer is that they’ve allowed themselves to embrace the things that they’ve refused to acknowledge about themselves because the environment they came from wasn’t supportive.
Sadly, ‘not supportive’ is terminology I use when most comments are more in line with them coming from hostile environments.
Anyway, I have a truly diverse sample of my university’s population. What I don’t have is a personality check. I guarantee that if Byndley or I had known that this was the behavior we’d see within the first twelve hours of this trip, those problematic individuals would not have been invited.
“Perhaps not put it to a vote, but select your handful of finalists and then give the staff some time to weigh in,” Zarek says.
“Before you see them, Kendrick. I like the method of choosing. You went in completely blind. But I agree. Considering you and I are largely isolated from the student body, Zarek’s suggestion makes a lot of sense.”
I frown. Not because I disagree but because I don’t like one part of that. “Maybe that needs to change.”
“What does?”
“We are removed from the student body. Do you remember being irritated in school because people were making decisions that affected us when they’d never been in our situations?”
“I think you may have worded that question wrong,” Zarek says. “Everyone has been a student.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. I mean… the number of times I’ve heard my teachers gripe about that, like…
” I pause to see if I can recall something specific.
“Okay, I remember coming back from break one year when I was in sixth grade, maybe, and the teacher’s desk was gone.
It had been replaced with a podium. All the teachers’ desks were replaced with podiums. I remember overhearing teachers complaining many times that the directors needed to stop making decisions for the teaching staff when they’ve never been in that position to begin with.
There was no way to spin that this change was positive.
It was less than three months later when the desks were returned. ”
“I’m following,” Byndley says, “though now I’m trying to make that make sense outside of desks.”
Zarek laughs quietly. “No, I get it. And I appreciate that the administration doesn’t tend to make ‘improvements’ that only affect the faculty without consulting the faculty, such as was the case in your desk/podium situation.”
“Right. There’s always this breakdown in companies where higher-ups make so-called ‘improvements’ to work environments, but like so many upper-management positions, those people have never actually been in those…
I hate to say lower positions, but you get what I’m saying.
It’s more frequent that upper management is hired from outside and therefore has never experienced the day-to-day life of those working under them,” I agree.
“If I understand how this relates to our original line of dialog, you think you need to spend more time with the students because what we’re working for directly affects them,” Byndley says.
“Yes. That long side explanation was a means to get to that point,” I say, earning myself amused smiles from both of them. “Also, I said we, Byndley. You and me both.”
She nods. “That’s fine. I like hobnobbing with the kids.”
Zarek laughs. “Hobnobbing. Please, please use that when talking to them. Also, call them kids to their faces. I dare you.”
I glance around Byndley to look at Brevan again. His head is against the window and his eyes are closed. I think he has earbuds in. Jerome is poking his head around the seat to talk to Wendy, who is sitting in front of him.
“You’re going to begin with Brevan, huh?” Byndley asks.
“Begin what?”
“Hanging with the students.”
I nod almost absently. “I hate that he now looks so… out of place. I don’t want him to feel like he doesn’t belong here, and if what I understand of the situation is accurate, I imagine he feels exactly that.”
“I’d agree with that assessment,” Zarek says.
“My partner treated Brevan last year for a sports injury—nothing critical—and I may have been fighting off other animals trying to get at my man, so I was hanging around often. Especially on the field. I’ve gotten to know Brevan a little, and he’s a really good guy.
He’s perfect for this trip. Having observed him, I think you’re right.
He probably feels like he doesn’t belong. ”
“Considering he’d already been struggling with that,” Byndley says, nodding.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I told you that one of our student ambassadors stopped in just after the letters went out to tell us we’d made a mistake. He didn’t believe he was a good choice, citing that he’s not smart enough to represent RDU.”
“You didn’t tell me that was Brevan,” I say.
“I thought I’d relieved his misgivings. He’d also insisted that he hadn’t applied for the position, which means someone else applied on his behalf.”
“This is all news to me.” I narrow my eyes at her.
Byndley smiles. “I did some research, and it looks like his coach submitted his documents on his behalf, unbeknownst to Brevan.”
“Oh no,” Zarek says, and we turn our attention to him. “I suddenly feel bad for those girls.”
“Why?” Byndley and I ask together.
He laughs. “You talked about hobnobbing with the kids, but have you ever hung around your staff? Specifically, Coach Lemon Frost?”
I shake my head. “I’m failing at being a good provost.”
“You’re not, but that’s a different conversation. I’m saying this off the record and not as a complaint, so we’re going to pretend that this is not a work environment and we’re talking over drinks as friends.”
Byndley and I nod our agreement.
“Coach Frost is as sour as his name. He’s crass, hostile, sassy, angry, terse…
my list goes on. However, he’s also a Mama T.
rex when it comes to his team. He protects all hundred and twenty of those boys as if they’re his own.
If Coach Frost submitted Brevan to this program, that means Brevan has made a big impact on him.
Which also means he’s going to go feral if it ever comes back to him that these girls have made him feel bad.
While he usually keeps his colorful traits reserved for staff and exudes a polite indifference to those not on his team, I have a feeling he’d make an exception. ”
“Ah,” I say.
“You know, I’ve heard these rumblings, but as we’ve just proven today, even adults are subject to false judging,” Byndley says.
“I promise you, as someone who has personally gone head-to-head with Coach Lemon, they’re not false accusations. I challenge you to find someone outside his staff with genuinely positive things to say that have nothing to do with his kids or football at all.”
“And you don’t think I should do something about this?” I ask.
“No,” he says, shaking his head adamantly. “I think you should leave it alone. The campus is at peace. Believe it or not, despite his crude personality, no one actually dislikes the football coach.”
“You see it for what it is,” Byndley says.
Zarek is nodding now. “He’s a lonely man and isn’t willing to let anyone get close. However, he’s still part of our family. I don’t believe for a second he’s genuinely cruel. I’d go so far as to say that if someone needed help, he wouldn’t deny them help if he was in a position to offer it.”
“Huh.” Admittedly, I don’t know what to do with this information. My attention moves to Brevan again, and I watch him as he stares out the window.