3. Priestley #2
Alice Liang pauses to have a quick word with the professor, who greets her with a warm smile.
I try not to allow my impatience to show while they chat like old friends, drawing on the years of experience I have in charming my superiors.
I think of all the senators and high-level bankers Father has introduced me to over the years.
Has a single one of them found me lacking in manners or intelligence?
No. Have any of them treated me with anything less than respect? Also no.
Alice Liang finishes talking to Professor Moreno and I step forward, but she takes a seat behind the desk. I think she’s pretending she hasn’t seen me. She starts writing something in a Moleskine journal.
“Yes, Mr. Rosenthal?” she says finally, without taking her eyes off the page.
I resist spying on what she’s writing. Is it about me?
“Professor Moreno, I just wanted to tell you how much of an honor it is to be accepted into your course.”
She hums to let me know she heard, and perhaps that she’s bored.
I go on, keeping my voice level and my shoulders squared. “I really admired that article you wrote on the econometrics of East Africa.”
She cocks her head. “You’re interested in East African econometrics, Mr. Rosenthal?”
“I was more so after reading your article, Professor.”
She puts her pen down and leans back in her chair, assessing me. For a second, I think my cheeks are about to tint. I try to take myself under control and hold her gaze.
“You’re upset that I didn’t place you top of the leaderboard,” she says.
I open my mouth, but before I can reply, she adds, “You’re lucky I didn’t put you at the bottom.”
My mouth gapes open.
She laughs before I have time to fix my expression.
“Oh, you’re very impressive, Mr. Rosenthal.
” Why am I Mr. Rosenthal and William O’Reilly is just Will?
“President of Alpha Sigma Psi, captain of the men’s tennis team, NCAA champions two years in a row?
Your academic and athletic achievements at this school are astounding, and there’s no denying you’re an extremely clever young man. ”
That word—clever. There’s something about it that feels … I don’t know … patronizing? I haven’t been called clever since I was a child. The appropriate word to use when speaking to an adult is surely intelligent?
“I read every student’s final year assignments. Yours was particularly impressive. What was it on again?” she asks. I have a feeling she knows exactly what it was on. Professor Moreno would make an excellent lawyer. If finance wasn’t so lucrative, I’d suggest she was wasting her talents.
“Ah, yes; Model Sales and Revenue Growth in Corporate Finance. You had some very interesting points on deadweight overheads and debt leverage.”
“Thank you.”
“Honestly, Priestley …” For some reason, her using my first name now is worse.
There’s just something about the way she says it.
Like it puts a bad taste in her mouth. “The only reason you’re above Alice Liang is because you impressed me with your enterprising work at Alpha Sigma Psi.
I have to admit, I’m not a fan of fraternities on the whole, but what you did there in terms of charitable work was wonderful.
And some of the causes you supported? Women’s shelters? LGBTQ youth funding? It surprised me.”
“Why would it surprise you?” I ask. What I do not ask is, What does this have to do with the damn leaderboard? I also don’t mention that Nathan—my VP—chose those causes shortly before I handed over the reins. Before that I tended to support causes connected to my father’s business.
She ignores my question and gets straight to the point. Finally.
“I’m sure you must be wondering what this has to do with the leaderboard?
Rosenthal Asset Management choose the top student every year based on merit.
” She guffaws. A highly irregular sound for a professor of her caliber to make.
“Finance is important,” she says, the smile quickly wiped from her face.
“As is who we choose to get Ivy League educations. It’s why we don’t just ask for good grades.
Anyone can get good grades. But whoever graduates from schools like this?
” She glances up at the high ceiling above our heads, the light filtering in through a stained-glass window. “They will rule the world.”
“You’re an impressive orator, Professor Moreno. Has anyone ever told you that?”
She laughs, but it isn’t a warm sound.
“While you’re in this classroom, I rule.” She fixes me with a cool gaze. It takes everything in me not to look away.
“Whoever gets that internship will have power. It’s my job to make sure they have the moral fiber to handle it.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard moral fiber discussed in the same sentence as finance.
I’m so caught off-guard, I speak without carefully choosing my words. “And what’s so great about Will O’Reilly’s moral fiber?”
Professor Moreno snaps her journal closed and glances at me with a bored expression. “Why don’t you ask him, Mr. Rosenthal? Perhaps you can learn something.”
Yeah, right, is my first thought. But as I leave the classroom and head toward the exit, I rethink my immediate impulse.
There is an old saying I’m sure everyone—even Will O’Reilly—has heard before: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.