I palm my chest. "Me?" I'm great at many things, but lying isn't one of them. Like my brother Wyatt, I see rules as flexible. I view outright lying as offensive. It's something I try not to do.
"Dean Mueller," I begin, forming the beginning of my defense, "I am not a woman who goes into anything blindly. I did my research and learned an unlicensed poker game may still be legal if the game is played in a residential building. Hence, it was played in my residence hall." Leaning forward, I remove my palm from my chest and place it on the desk in front of me. "Moreover, I do not profit from hosting the game, and I keep the buy-in very low. All of which makes it acceptable."
It's immediately obvious to me that, while impressed, Dean Mueller is out for blood. The contrite expression in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. An example will be made of me.
My fingers shake, and I slip them under my warm thighs to hide them. The rest of me is still, my back remains straight as I prepare to hear my punishment.
"Miss Hayden, due to offenses that are, quite frankly, illegal in the state of Arizona and punishable by law, I have no choice but to ask you to withdraw from Arizona State and vacate your dorm room immediately."
My stoicism breaks. A gasp slips between my teeth. "Withdraw?" My voice cracks. "From college?" I thought I'd get a slap on the wrist. Be forced to volunteer in some capacity that benefited the campus. "Isn't there something I can do? Volunteer?"
The dean watches me react, then says very simply, "No."
"How about…" What I'm about to say is a risk, but who really cares at this point? "Restitution?"
His eyes squint. "Are you suggesting a bribe?"
"Not at all." I shake my head vigorously.But also, yes. "I’m simply suggesting compensation or repayment for the hurt I've caused. Like, maybe I can fund a Gamblers Anonymous club on campus?" I have no idea if that's a thing, but if it's not, I'll make it one.
Dean Mueller shakes his head slowly from side to side. "Withdraw immediately, Miss Hayden." He rises to his feet. "You're lucky I'm giving you the option to do so. If I find you haven't withdrawn by the end of tomorrow afternoon, I will kick you out."
I grab my purse from the floor beside my sandaled feet and wind my arm through the straps. I swallow back my emotion. "Of course," I say. Standing, I step from the desk and make my way to the door. As I grip the handle, the dean says my name and I turn back.
Behind him is a large window overlooking campus, the sun streams in, backlighting him so he looks oddly ethereal. The god residing over this institution, deciding on who stays and who goes. I could fight his decision. Make an appeal. Call my dad, ask the big, bad Beau Hayden to step in and make a donation. It's not that I'm above doing that, but I overheard him when I was home for Jo and Wyatt's wedding. The HCC is struggling, though I wasn't clear on why.
And, at the end of the day, Dean Mueller isn't wrong.
He addresses me now. "Miss Hayden, you're a bright young woman. You have something my mother called 'moxie'. More often than not, that will serve you well. Every once in a while, it may turn out otherwise. This happens to be one of those times."
I nod and thank him, then slip from the room. Avoiding the eyes of his assistant, I make my way out of the building and into the warm sunshine.
Moxie. The word rolls around in my mouth, balancing precariously on the tip of my tongue, and I tuck it back into my cheek, like a squirrel with an acorn.
My family calls me 'calamity'.
The dean says I have moxie.
I cannot figure out if these are good things to be.
"I can't believeyou're leaving school. There are only, like, two more months before the semester is over." Lindsay throws herself into the chair at the little table we claimed in the corner of the bar. As upset as she is, I have a sneaking suspicion my roommate is looking forward to having our room to herself. Probably about as much as I'm looking forward to not hiding under the covers with my headphones in every time she and Kurt are fooling around in her bed.
"Why can't they let you finish out the semester, at least?" Jayce, our friend from across the hall, adds to Lindsay's complaining. She wipes a line of sweat from her hairline and grabs a bottle from the ice bucket in the center of the table. She pops the top off the beer and takes a drink.
I do the same, and say, "I was lucky he didn't call the police. There was no way I could argue. He had me over a barrel."
Jayce and Lindsay share a knowing look. "Wouldn't be the first time a person of authority had you bent over something," Lindsay says, the bottle of beer poised at her lips.
I give her a look, and they laugh. I never should have confessed my other sin to them. Maybe that was my first mistake. Or my hundredth. Depends on how the counting's being done, I suppose.
At this point, maybe I should be happy I only got caught for the gambling, and not for sleeping with my professor.
"Austin is serious about me," I argue, trying to sound like I'm unaffected by their teasing, when in reality it makes me feel prickly. "No matter how we started, he likes me."
Lindsay lifts her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine." The music in the bar switches, and Lindsay's eyebrows shoot up. "I love this song. Come on." She sails from her chair and goes to the dance floor, arms swaying above her head.
Jayce gives me an exasperated look. She doesn't appreciate the country western bar we've brought her to. She's more of a sweaty, techno club kind of girl. I sneak a peek at my phone on our way to join Lindsay.
No missed calls.
