Chapter 36 #2
“What’s your vote, Savannah?” Dustin asked me. He saw the other two’s frowns and looked back at them with wide eyes. “What? She brings this to us, and you think she shouldn’t get a say?”
Dante let out a huff of exasperation. “Well of course she gets a say, but—”
“He’s right,” Noah said firmly. “There’s no but.”
Three pairs of eyes looked at me. “Well . . .” I blew out a breath.
“I’d want to know, but—” I spoke louder over them to be heard as they started talking among themselves — “I don’t have to play with them, and I don’t have to pretend with them.
You do.” Noah and Dante were frowning, but Dustin was nodding in agreement.
“So for that reason, I wouldn’t want to know.
And,” I added softly, “they may not even know.”
Dante looked thoughtful. “You mean the ones who are getting their grades altered?”
“Yeah, there are some who are only getting grades altered, and to be honest, they may actually think they’re scraping by.
” I saw that all three of them had the same thought.
“I checked on you all. You’re all doing this yourself.
” I ran my fingers through the ends of my ponytail when they all looked at me. “You know, in case you were wondering.”
“It’s a probable assumption,” Dustin said carefully, “that the ones not getting paid to shut up won’t know it’s even happening.
If it’s just their grade being altered .
. .” He saw my frown and shrugged. He tilted his head as he thought.
“I assume it’s a C they get and not something stupid like an A. ”
I grimaced. “Well, the program requires you all to pass with a B average at a minimum,” I explained.
Noah snorted. “Well, you can’t hide that,” he said with scorn. “I mean, I’ve had a few finals where I was sure I was going to flunk and got a C, barely, but a B? I’ve never thought I’d flunked and then got a B.”
“Yeah, that’s harder to sell,” I spoke softly. “I think it’s likely they would know.”
“Fuck.” Dante paced. “This is such a shit show. Do we just assume everyone is guilty?”
“I thought we were keeping our heads down,” Dustin asked him carefully.
Dante chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, but . . .”
“You’re not that good of an actor,” I told him dryly. “If you know who they are, you will take their heads off with your helmet.” I gestured to the other two. “They know it too, we all saw you with Coach Sutherland the other day.”
“It’s the Italian in me,” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes at Noah and Dustin. “Sure it is.”
We chatted for a little bit longer, the atmosphere lightening a little, and we all decided to keep doing what we were doing, but remain watchful. I didn’t like it, but it was about so much more than how I felt.
“Come on, Nancy,” Dante said, tugging me to my feet. “Let me walk you home.”
“Nancy?”
“Nancy Drew,” Noah said as he crunched his way through an apple.
I waved my goodbyes, and Dante had no problem leading me downstairs, holding my hand. Guess we weren’t hiding. I was okay with that.
“Do I leave you here?” he asked at the back door to my dorm.
“I really like Bev,” I told him honestly. “But I can’t do the revelation about you with her tonight. Do you mind?”
“Nope.” He leaned forward and kissed me. Slow and gentle, no pressure for it to be more. “You’re so amazingly brave,” he whispered against my lips. “Thank you for risking that for us.”
I looked up at him. “Of course.”
He shook his head slightly. “Of course, she says,” he mumbled, dropping another light kiss on my lips. “Like it’s nothing, when it’s everything.”
I reached up and kissed him, not soft, not gentle. He responded by deepening the kiss until I was panting and wishing he would come upstairs.
“Try to get some sleep,” he said, hugging me close. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You can show me the windmill thing.”
“You’ve seen the wind feature,” I told him.
“Yeah, but I want you to tell me about it.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Okay?”
My giddy smile was his answer, and once he saw me inside with the door locked, he waved and walked back to his dorm.
I raced up the stairs and burst into my apartment, deciding to tell Bev everything anyway, but I came to a sudden halt when I saw my dad sitting on my couch.
“Dad?” I looked at Bev, who mumbled an excuse, and then ran to her room, her door firmly shutting behind her. “Why are you here?”
“Where have you been?” My father’s voice was not raised but sharp enough to pin me in place. He was still in his suit, tie loosened just enough to look like he hadn’t done it himself.
I licked my lips. “Out.”
“With him?”
He sat there judging me.
Judging me.
“In your room, please, Savannah,” he said as he stood. “I think, like your roommate, we need to have this conversation with your door closed.”
I followed him to my room, he waited until I was inside, and then he walked to my desk and leaned against it, not taking the chair. He gestured to the bed opposite him. “Sit.”
I sat. My heartbeat sounded louder than the clock on the mantle.
“Were you with him?” he asked without preamble. “Tutoring him is one thing. Being seen with him in public, outside of that, is another. Do you understand the distinction?”
“Do you?” I shot back before I could stop myself.
His eyes narrowed. “Savannah—”
“No,” I cut in, leaning forward. “Do you? Because I’m starting to think you care more about appearances than you do about me.”
He leaned back, cold, measured. “Appearances are everything. You are seen by board members and donors every other week, Savannah. Have you no consideration as to how you’ll be perceived?
My daughter is not the next headline in some tacky internet post with a football player.
Appearances, perception, these are why Wrighton University thrives—”
“Thrives?” I demanded incredulously. “Do you remember the conversation we had this afternoon?”
“In regard to the Academic Association, yes, I do. You are not part of that, Savannah. And it is not part of the opportunities you enjoy.”
I laughed, sharp and humorless. “Opportunities? You mean this degree I never wanted? Sitting at lunches and brunches and all the other crap, in rooms parroting your opinions? You call that an opportunity?”
His face went still. “You’re top of your class. You’ll have offers most people dream of.”
“I don’t dream of that, Dad!” The words broke out, ragged.
“I dream of copper and stained glass and welding torches. I dream of taking things that are broken and making them whole. That’s what I want.
Not policy memos. Not donors with too much money and not enough conscience. And not being your perfect puppet.”
The silence after was suffocating. His jaw ticked once. “Art is a hobby. It will not pay your bills. It will not protect you in this world.”
“And the lies you cover up here will?” I whispered, voice shaking. “Art may not be what you want for me, but it is mine and it makes me happy.”
For the first time, his expression cracked — not softened, but tightened, like I’d disappointed him more than I ever could by failing a class. “You’ve been rash. It’s because of the quarterback,” he said more to himself than me. “I knew it would happen. He’s a bad influence.”
“Because he’s honest, caring, and cares about what I actually want?”
“Whatever you have — or think you have — with him, it ends. Now.”
“No.” My voice was calm and steady. “It won’t end now.
Not because you tell me to. Do we have a future?
I don’t know,” I told him with a small smile.
“I’m almost twenty-one years old. I have no idea what my future is.
But Dante and I? It’s new, it’s exciting.
” I watched him as my words fell off him like water off a stone.
“I’m in a relationship with Dante, and I will not end it because you don’t understand what happiness looks like. ”
My dad tsked, his lip curling in distaste, no doubt at my ‘emotional’ outburst. “You’re in danger of throwing everything away because of a mediocre student who can throw a ball?
” He looked appalled at the very thought of it.
“He’ll ruin your future just like that football program ruins—” He stopped.
“No.” He shook his head. “No, Savannah. You will not jeopardize your future. Not with everything I’ve built for you. ”
“I didn’t ask you to build anything for me,” I said quietly. “All I wanted was the chance to build it myself.”
His eyes turned to ice. “Then maybe you don’t belong in this university after all.”
I felt like he’d slapped me, but I forced myself to stand. My knees wobbled, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.
“Then I guess while I’m still a student here, you can see yourself out, Dean Cole.”
I watched him leave the room, pulse thundering in my ears, as I sank down onto my bed.
I said I’d bring it all down for Dante, but I didn’t know I’d be the first one to fall.