I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t want to text you this but I don’t want you blindsided. Your dad’s university is the other one who rented the space. I swear I had no idea. Call me.
I raise my eyes from the phone to find my father in the middle of the room, the professors from my program and his gathered around while he enthralls them with some story or another. Colton’s there in the middle, Dad’s hand clapped on his shoulder.
“Riley,” Andrea says as she sidles up to the group. “You aren’t related to Quinn by any chance, are you?”
Dad chuckles, but it has a hard edge to it. “Ah, yes, the prodigal daughter.”
The prodigal son returns to his father. Dad needs to work on his analogies. The whole room turns to face me when I step through the doorway, everyone riveted to see what will happen after Dad’s dramatic description of me.
He watches me, his eyes calculating. “Quinn.”
“Dr. Riley,” I say back with equal coldness.
“How’s yourclassgoing?” He asks with enough of an emphasis on the word to tell everyone around us he meant the word ironically. He chuckles and sends an amused look around the rest of the professors.
“It's amazing,” I say with a hard smirk. “And Andrea and I were just talking about ways to collaborate when we get back to campus.”
Dr. Guarino scowls at Andrea and she gives him a little, half-apologetic shrug.
Dad smiles that viper’s smile. He walks over and slips his arm around my shoulders, the first physical contact we’ve had in a decade, and my skin crawls. “My daughter here was the most brilliant mind in her year for my field, and she gave it all up.”
“I wasnotthe most brilliant mind. That was Colton, and you know it. He’s the one who won the Harrow Fellowship.”
“Yes, the fellowship. One road block, and she gives up everything. You know how this generation is with a bit of adversity.” He says that last part to Dr. Guarino, who chuckles and nods along, and my blood boils.
My father continues as if he’s a Roman senator addressing us all from the floor. “We were so disappointed when she decided not to go the professor route like the rest of the family. My three boys followed in our footsteps, but Quinn here had to be different.”
“I’m literally teaching,” I say through gritted teeth. “Those comments don’t even make sense anymore.”
“Ah, yes, I heard about the real faculty member backing out and them needing you to step in.”
“How did you hear that?” I ask. I sound like a petulant child and I hate it. “Are you checking up on me?”
He rolls his eyes at Dr. Guarino, who gives him a sympathetic shake of his head, before turning back to me. “I’m your father. Of course I check up on you.”
It takes everything in me not to pop off about how I don’t have a father anymore because he decided the letters after my name were more important than a relationship with me.
“It’s unfortunate,” Dr. Guarino says, “that we couldn’t find an actual professor, but the students seem happy enough and at least we didn’t have to cancel the class.”
“Iaman actual professor,” I say, vitriol in my tone. “I designed this course myself based on years of study.Ilead the in-class discussions.Igrade their papers and host office hours and field their questions. You want experience? I’ll show you eight years working closely with students and employers to make sure internships are valuable learning experiences. You need research to consider me worthy? I’ll email you my graduate thesis. Which, by the way, was published in an academic journal. What I won’t do is let you stand there and diminish the work I’ve done so you can justify passing a rule on campus that hurts everyone but you.”
The whole room goes quiet. Even Colton’s stunned into silence. Dad’s colleagues watch with wide eyes, enjoying the college drama that doesn’t affect them. Next time, I’ll bring them popcorn.
“This seems like a peaceful work environment,” my father says with a chuckle, like he isn’t the one who riled all of this up to begin with.
“The joys of staff/faculty interactions,” Dr. Guarino replies, giving my father a long-suffering look. “It shouldn’t be such a problem after this summer.”
Colton steps forward, but I stop him with a shake of my head. I’m done hiding behind him and pretending like I’m less than.
I lift my chin. “Dr. Guarino, if you’d like to review my CV or have a genuine discussion about the future of Billings, I’d be happy to address any concerns you have. But only if the conversation is approached from a place of learning and openness.” I turn my back on him and my father, facing Sydney and Andrea. “Thank you for seeking me out earlier. We’re going to do great things for our students together.”
Not could do. Going to do.
Their stares burn into my back as I turn without another word. I won’t let Dr. Guarino’s negativity or my father’s disdain steal the victory of my conversation with Andrea.
And I won’t lose this fight.
Hours later,Colton leans in my room’s doorway, rapping lightly on the frame. I meet his eyes in the mirror where I’m removing my makeup.
