“They’ll say you’re jealous. Or bitter. Or unstable.”
Ralston’s words echo in my ear.You’re not well.
Bell continues, “They’ll ask why you waited so long to come forward. Why you didn’t speak up sooner. They’ll pick apart you and your motives until you no longer recognize them yourself.”
For a moment, I can only blink. I’m angry, but not at her. Still, she’s the only one I can take my anger out on. “So, you’re saying do nothing. That I shouldn’t even try. You won’t help me.”
“I think Iamhelping you by not.”
“You’re a coward.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. I hate them, hate myself for saying them, but I can’t take them back.
Bell doesn’t flinch. “You don’t understand what you would be walking into. You tried it before, like you just told me. You saw where it got you. This time it won’t be any better. If anything, it’ll be worse. She’s more powerful now. And too much time has passed.”
My jaw locks, brows knitting together. How can she say that? How can she stand to believe it? “No.No.That can’t be it. I need to trust that villains lose in the end. That good wins. I need to believe there’s a point to all of this, a lesson.”
“It’s a nice thing to believe,” she says. Her words aren’t unkind, they just sound tired. As tired as she looks.
“She took everything from me. I haven’t written anything worth reading in years. I can’t get published. I don’t trust myself, or my judgment. Everything I write just sounds like her. I hear her criticism in my head, feel her betrayal. She ruined my life. She doesn’t just…she doesn’t just get to get away with it.”
Bell’s face softens. Barely. “She has that effect.”
I search her face. “It’s happened since I left, hasn’t it? There’ve been others.”
“There have been and will always be others.”
A muscle twitches in her jaw, and I think I understand something she hasn’t said. “You’ve seen it happen?”
“And lived it.”
Her words drop like a stone between us.
“She stole from you.” It’s not a question, it’s a confirmation. From the moment I saw her, I recognized something in her. Now I realize it’s the same hurt I’ve carried for over a decade.
“Havenport was my first and only choice after I graduated. This place means something to me. It gave me purpose. Althea and I are the same age. She started a few years after I did. I saw in her back then what everyone sees in her. She is shiny. Ambitious. She always says the right thing. We weren’t friends, but colleagues in the same department can often look the part. It didn’t take long before I saw her for what she was. It wasn’t just the work she took, though she took plenty of that too. She took credit for things I had done. Initiatives, student projects, things I suggested. She claimed space, stepped in as soon as things were getting off the ground and took hold of the narrative.”
I stare at her, confused. “But that was before she was who she is now.Althea Ralston.Why didn’t you say anything?” She could’ve stopped the monster before she grew legs and a second head.
“I did. Quietly. Professionally. The way I was told to handle things. I brought it to James’s—Dean Carlyle’s—attention. It went nowhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Credit for this club or that. A name on a banquet or behind a symposium. It was silly and not worth anyone’s time.” She rubs her temple. “Eventually, you get tired of being the squeaky wheel. People only see what they want to see—and what they want to see, what they’ve always wanted to see, is someone like Althea. Charismatic. Bold. Young enough. Pretty enough. The kind of icon that doesn’t challenge their worldviews too much. Who fits neatly into their containers. She represents a brand of feminismthey can accept, and that’s enough for them to look the other way over most things.”
“But…you stayed.” I can’t make sense of this. “Why would you stay? You still work with her. You…Jesus, you sit on panels with her. Like none of it happened. You go along with it all. Let her pretend. Let her lie.”
She leans back slowly—as if she’s been here before. As if she’s wrestled with these same questions, the accusations in them.
Someone has to stop this, so why not her? Why isn’t she trying?
“I stay for the students. For the ones who come through this place needing someone to see them. Someone to believe them, even if they don’t say the thing out loud. Even if they’re just hanging on. We do important work here. Ralston’s shadow doesn’t cast every good thing into darkness.”
“So, you just let her harm students? Ruin lives? Because you’re here, holed up in your office with a cookie and a smile? It’s not enough.”
She looks at me as if the answer, her explanation, is more complicated than words allow.
“You chose not to fight, and I paid the price.” It’s not fair, but it feels true.
She presses her lips together, adjusting in her seat. The wooden chair squeaks underneath her. “Would my fight have mattered? You were warned, you said. By another girl. She did the job you expected me to do. In the end, was it worth it for her? You chose to believe Althea.”
