Chapter Eight
T he next day, I have my first official meeting with the campus newspaper team. I arrive at the office, a bit nervous but excited to dive into something I love. The room is bustling with activity—students typing on laptops, discussing story ideas, and editing articles. The walls are lined with past issues, their headlines a testament to the hard work and dedication of the team.
“Hailey, right?” A tall, slender guy with dark hair and glasses approaches me. He has an air of calm authority, and I recognize him from the brief meeting we had during my one and only newspaper staff meeting.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say, extending my hand. “You must be Kevin.”
“That’s right,” he says, shaking my hand firmly. “I’m the editor-in-chief. It’s great to have you here, Hailey. Come on, let’s grab a seat and chat.”
We find a quiet corner in the office, and I sit across from him, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Kevin has a stack of papers in front of him, but he sets them aside and gives me his full attention. I know he’s a senior but he seems so much more put together, he reminds me of one of my old teachers back in Arizona.
“So, Hailey, tell me a bit about yourself and why you’re interested in joining the newspaper,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
“Well,” I begin, taking a deep breath, “I’ve always loved writing. In high school, I was part of the school newspaper, and I enjoyed covering various events and getting to know different people. I think journalism is a powerful way to tell stories and shed light on important issues. I’m excited about the opportunity to contribute to the campus newspaper and learn from the team.”
Kevin nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “That’s great to hear. We’re always looking for passionate writers who are eager to dive into stories and bring fresh perspectives. Have you thought about any specific topics or areas you’d like to cover?”
“I’m open to a lot of different things,” I say. “But I’m particularly interested in campus events, student life, and maybe some investigative pieces. I think there are so many stories here just waiting to be told.”
“Perfect,” Kevin says, smiling. “We definitely need someone with your enthusiasm and curiosity. In fact, I have an assignment that might be right up your alley.”
He reaches for a notebook and flips through it, then looks up at me. “There’s been some buzz around campus about a group of guys who might be involved in some online trading from their dorms. They’re all business or finance majors, and there’s speculation that they’re not just trading for fun but might be running some kind of operation. It’s all rumors at this point, but it could make for an interesting story.”
I give him a quizzical look. “Why is that a story? People are allowed to have stock. That seems like a hobby those people would have.”
“We don’t know if they’re doing anything illegal or just acting like finance guys.” He rolls his eyes. “But I want to know. That’s why you should just talk to them, see if they’re up to anything. Here.” He hands me a piece of paper. “Go to Anderson, ask around, see if you can find anyone willing to talk—or brag—about what they’re doing. Could be something, could be nothing.” He shrugs. “If it’s nothing we can find you something else.”
I look down at the notes and chew on my bottom lip. This seems like nothing, but if I turn it down he might think I’m ungrateful and I’ll be typing up the intramural sports schedule for the next year. I look up and give him a wide smile. “I’ll look into it,” I promise.
“Great,” Kevin says, standing up and offering his hand again. “Welcome to the team, Hailey. I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with.”
“Thank you, Kevin,” I say, shaking his hand. “I won’t let you down.”
As I leave the office my mind is racing. What am I supposed to do? Walk up to someone and ask if their favorite movie is Wall Street? It also seems somewhat embarrassing to start asking around if people are trading stock and if that stock is illegal in some way. I don’t really know anything about stock, and other than high-level inside trading, what else is there?
I decide to head over to Anderson Hall and see if anyone is willing to talk to me, or at least explain what it is that’s going on. It crosses my mind that I could ask Ryan, but our relationship is fresh and I don’t want him to think I’m accusing him of something—or worse come off as an idiot.
The building is busier than I would expect this late in the afternoon. This building seems to be designed to make people want to stay. There are desks and lounging areas around, and there’s a Starbucks kiosk. Must be nice to be a business major. I look around, trying to see if anyone looks like the type to talk to a stranger about stock trading. I spot a girl sitting alone by a window and start to make my way over but I stop when I see a guy approach her from behind and kiss her cheek. She probably wouldn’t be amiable to the interruption.
I change course when I spot a cluster of people who may or may not all be together seeing as they’re on separate laptops and not speaking to one another. I try getting their attention by clearing my throat but no one looks up. This is getting me nowhere. Who knew they’d be a bunch of snobs? Now I’m hoping they are doing something nefarious just so I can rub their noses in it.
Finally, I walk over to a couch and sit down next to a guy on a laptop with headphones on. He looks over, clearly annoyed, but quickly changes his face into a lazy smile and removes his headphones. “Hi,” he says.
Finally. “Hi! I’m Hailey,” I say, and I try not to cringe. I sound like I’m running for prom queen. “I’m writing a story for the paper,” I rush to explain. “Can I talk to you?”
He gives me a lazy smile and sets his laptop down on the table in front of him. “Sure. Anything to help out the school newspaper.”
I ignore his patronizing tone. “What’s your name?”
“Matt. This is a great start,” he quips. “Should we get coffee?”
I look over at the line at the kiosk. “No thanks. So what’s your major?”
“Finance. Are you doing student profiles or something?”
“Not really. Do you guys do stock trading?”
He narrows his eyes. “Like as class exercises? Yes. Thinking of changing your major?”
I laugh. “That would be a no.” I pretend to look for something in my bag and check over the notes from Kevin before pulling out lipgloss. “So do you do any real trading? Not the pretend kind in class.”
“Yes,” he draws out, and I can tell he’s trying to suss out what I’m doing. “Look Hailey, are you trying to see my portfolio? I feel like you’d have to go to dinner with me first.”
I should flirt back, that’s what Erin Brockovich would do in order to get what she wanted, but I’m not really that good at flirting and I don’t want Ryan to find out and ruin this…whatever this is. “Matt,” I say as I try to imitate my mother, “I heard there’s a group doing trades in their dorms.”
“Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t seem to care. “Are you writing a story about how we need new hobbies? I would agree. We’re a sad lot, aren’t we? Maybe you could help me find something new.”
His flirting is actually charming but I won’t be deterred. It also seems like he doesn’t know anything important. “So you aren’t involved?”
“With that group? Not really. I know they have a little network going. If that’s what you want to know about you’ll have to talk to Josh Thompson. He hangs out upstairs. Likes the table by the big windows. Usually has his laptop and iPad out. Acts like he already works for Goldman.”
I give him a bright smile. “Thanks!”
“Wait!” He grabs my wrist as I stand up and cock my head to the side. “Was that really it? Can I get your number or anything?”
“That’s sweet,” I say, fiddling with the strap of my bag, “but I’m kind of seeing someone.”
“Kind of or are?” His face looks so hopeful and it’s so shocking that two boys in a matter of weeks would be interested in me when I went long stretches of time in Arizona with nothing. I guess they’re right about college and becoming a swan and all that.
“Are. Sorry.” I turn to go but look back when I’m next to the staircase and give him a wave. He waves back, his eyes sad.
The study lounge is quieter than the rest of the building, with students scattered around, and focused on their work. I spot a guy who matches Matt’s description—dark hair, intense expression, deeply engrossed in his laptop. Taking a deep breath, I approach him.
“Excuse me, are you Josh?” I ask, trying to sound confident. Hoping that this isn’t some wild goose chase.
He looks up, slightly surprised. “Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?”
“I’m Hailey,” I say, offering a smile. “I’m writing an article for the campus newspaper about students involved in online trading. I’ve heard you might be someone who could shed some light on it.”
Josh’s expression shifts to one of guarded curiosity. “Online trading, huh? What exactly are you looking to find out?”
“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on,” I say, sitting down across from him. “There are rumors about a group of students who are really into it, and I want to get the facts straight. I’m not looking to expose anyone or cause trouble. I just want to write an accurate story.”
Josh studies me for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll tell you what I know, but you have to promise not to jump to conclusions or sensationalize it. We’re just a group of guys interested in finance and investing.”
“Understood,” I say, pulling out my notebook. “I just want to hear your side of the story.”
Josh begins to talk, and I take notes, listening carefully. He explains that he and a few friends started getting into online trading as a hobby. They’d spend hours researching stocks, learning about the market, and making small trades. Over time, they got better at it and started making some money.
“We’re not running a business or anything,” Josh says. “It’s just a group of us who talk all the time in a group chat and we give each other tips on what to buy, when to buy and sell it, etc. We’re just learning and trying to apply what we’re studying in our classes.”
“Have you ever faced any issues with the university or anyone else because of your trading?” I ask, curious about any potential conflicts.
“No,” Josh says. “We keep it low-key and don’t draw attention to ourselves. We’re not doing anything that violates university policies. At least, not as far as we know.”
“I think you and your friends are well past low-key since I’m here from the school paper writing a story. I think the attention has been drawn. Do you think the rumors have any basis in reality?” I ask. “Are there other groups or individuals who might be doing something more… significant?”
Josh shrugs. “It’s possible. I’ve heard whispers about other students getting involved in more serious trading, but I don’t know any details. We stick to our group and focus on what we’re doing. But in a place like this, where there are so many smart and ambitious people, it wouldn’t surprise me if others were pushing the boundaries.”
I jot down notes, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. This story is turning out to be more complex than I initially thought. “You mentioned whispers about other groups. Do you know anything specific about them?”
Josh hesitates, glancing around the study lounge as if to make sure no one is listening. “There’s one group that stands out. They’re a bit more secretive and seem to have more resources. From what I’ve heard, they operate out of Hamilton Hall.”
My heart skips a beat. Hamilton Hall is where I live and Ryan lives who happens to be a business major. Trying to keep my voice steady, I ask, “Do you know who runs that group?”
“Yeah, I do,” Josh says, lowering his voice. “The guy’s name is Ryan. He’s a business major, just like us, but he’s got some serious connections. People say he’s got a real talent for this stuff, but there are rumors that he’s involved in some shady activities.”
I feel a cold knot form in my stomach. Ryan? My Ryan ? I try to keep my expression neutral as I ask, “Do you have any idea what kind of shady activities?”
Josh shakes his head. “Nothing concrete. Just rumors about insider trading and maybe even some money laundering. But like I said, it’s all speculation. No one has any proof, and Ryan’s group keeps a low profile. If you’re looking to dig deeper, that’s where you might find something interesting. But be careful. If they are involved in anything illegal, they won’t appreciate the attention.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Josh,” I say, my mind racing. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“No problem,” Josh says, offering a cautious smile. “Good luck with your article. And remember, not everything is as it seems. Make sure you have your facts straight before you publish anything.”
“I will,” I promise, standing up and gathering my notes. “Thanks again, Josh.”
As I leave the study lounge, my thoughts are in turmoil. Could Ryan really be involved in something illegal? The Ryan I went on a date with seemed so genuine and sweet. But if he’s the same Ryan that Josh mentioned, I might have stumbled onto something much bigger than I anticipated.
I hurry back to my dorm, my mind buzzing with questions and doubts. When I enter our room, Kelsey is there, lounging on her bed holding her Kindle.
“Hey, how did the meeting go?” she asks, looking up with a smile.
I sink onto my bed, feeling overwhelmed. “It was… intense. I got an assignment to investigate rumors about online trading among students.”
Kelsey sits up, her interest piqued. “Oohhh…espionage! What’s up?”
I hesitate, not sure how much to reveal. “At first nothing, but then I talked to this guy, Josh, and he said there might be a group that actually is involved in some shady shit. Insider trading or money laundering. I don’t know, but he mentioned our dorm and a guy named Ryan.”
Kelsey’s eyes widen. “Ryan? As in your Ryan?”
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling a lump in my throat. “It could be a different Ryan, but… it’s in Hamilton Hall, and this is where he lives.”
Kelsey moves to sit next to me, her face full of concern. “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions. Just talk to Ryan. This could all be a big coincidence. Or it could be nothing. Guys love to talk a big game. For all we know they’re passing the same share of McDonald’s back and forth and calling it genius.”
“I know,” I say, turning over to look at her. “I’ll talk to him, see what he says. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Don’t let yourself get too worked up over this. Remember, finance bros love to inflate their own egos.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. As usual, she’s the voice of reason I need to combat my racing thoughts. Without Kelsey, my imagination would run away from me and before I knew it I would have turned Ryan into an episode of Succession .
I tell myself that I’ll figure it out in the morning. No matter what I need to know if the guy I like aspires to commit financial crimes or if he allows rumors to swell about his fiscal prowess.
As Kelsey and I cuddle in my small bed, I wonder if it would have been better to ask if I could just print the sports stats.