His back is to me, but his posture goes ramrod straight as heprocesses the words on the page. They can’t tap someone else. Quinn’s their only choice, and the flash of satisfaction in Quinn’s eyes tells me that fact is written on Dr. Yoder’s face.
“This is just like the staff, trying to encroach on the academics,” he says, changing tactics. “First with the never-ending requests to present during our class time, and now trying to dictate the decisions the faculty senate makes.”
A throat clears lightly, and everyone turns their attention to our president. “Let’s keep the discussion on the topic at hand,” she says with quiet authority.
He scowls, but doesn’t argue. Quinn somehow manages to keep her smile relaxed and professional when I know inside she’s doing that awkward wiggle dance she does when she’s ecstatic. I let out a smug smile on her behalf.
But before she can enjoy her victory, Dr. Guarino, one of the most respected members of our community and another professor on the Rome program, raises his hand. The other professors fall silent.
“Ms. Riley, I’d like to thank you for your presentation and the time you’ve given us. Please know that what I am going to say is not a criticism of you.”
Quinn tenses.
“However, the decisions this senate makes are not done so lightly. I vote we deny this petition and tell the students to choose another class in the program. They have plenty of options.”
Quinn can’t stop herself. “With all due respect, Dr. Guarino, that’s unfair to the students.”
“Perhaps you should have thought about that before you laid out this ultimatum.”
Quinn’s face goes from its regular pale hue to crimson in seconds. She lets her eyes wander up to me, and I give a little shake of my head. Her lips pinch like she can hold in the words, but she’s already too far gone.
I open my mouth to stop whatever shit show is coming, but she beats me to it. “You think I want to do this? You think I want to have to choose between the immediate needs of my students and the long-term health of this college? No, I didn’t put myself in this position. I was put here by pompous professors who care more about proving a point than serving their community.”
The room sucks in a collective breath. None of the professors would have spoken like that to Dr. Guarino, and they certainly won’t tolerate that sort of disrespect from staff. Even Quinn’s allies turn against her. Her eyes are desperate as she watches their demeanors change.
“Thispompous professor,” Dr. Guarino says, his light Italian accent deepening, “is feeling more confident by the second in our decision to distance the two sides of our campus.”
The red fades from Quinn’s face, the fight going out of her eyes and her shoulders hunching. My tiny warrior is disappearing before my eyes. I would have lived a very different life without that fire, and I can’t see it go out.
Without thinking it through, I stand from my seat and walk down the steps of the auditorium. Every eye follows me, and my stomach churns from the attention.
Spontaneous decisions are not my thing. Every action I take—from the research I select to the way I’ve trained my accent out of my voice—is meticulously planned to make the most of my shot at tenure. There’s a reason I have such a strong reputation on campus after only one academic year, and it’s not from running to the front of a senate meeting without a fucking plan.
I don’t know what I’m going to say when I get to the front of the room. All I know is I can’t leave her up there alone. Quinn’s wide brown eyes look up at me, her expression anguished, like I’m throwing myself on my sword for her. When I take a spot next to her, I turn my attention back to the senate.
I run a hand down the leg of my pants to anchor myself. “I know I’m not on the faculty senate, but I am a professor in thisprogram. I’m also relatively new here, which has some disadvantages, but also gives me a fresh perspective. It seems… shortsighted… for us not to at least pause to consider what Ms. Riley is proposing.”
The professors are silent for a beat, and then, as if they have synchronized internal timers, all start talking at once. Mostly arguing against me, and my blood turns cold. The way they look at me shifts the same way it had for Quinn when she insulted Dr. Guarino, suspicion lining their faces. Maybe I should’ve listened to Quinn’s warnings.
“You may be onto something here, Dr. Miller.” All eyes turn back to President Munchen in the front row. “Perhaps that’s exactly what we need. A pause.”
She taps a finger against her lips, something churning behind those intelligent hazel eyes as she stands and takes up the spot on Quinn’s other side. “Our campus has been at a tipping point for a while. I was on board with the faculty’s original plan, but I’ll admit Ms. Riley has presented some compelling arguments.
“I propose we put a pin in the initiative. Let’s have Ms. Riley teach the course as a test of the… unexpected value staff may bring to our academic programs. At the end of the summer, we can reconnect to discuss the success or failure, and what that means for our campus.”
Quinn bounces on her toes. “How does the staff know this is in good faith? That it isn’t just a way to get us to run the class while you all plan to pass the initiative anyway?”
President Munchen’s smile isn’t unkind, but has a pitying quality about it. “You don’t. But I would ask”—she pauses to glance meaningfully around the room, stopping significantly on Dr. Guarino—“that everyone involved go into this experiment with an open mind. And as a sign of our commitment, we’ll assign a faculty member in the program to act as a resource for you in case there are issues to troubleshoot. No one expectsperfection, but we need to see the true value, even through the challenges. Is that acceptable?”
Quinn’s throat bobs while she considers, and I can see the moment she realizes there’s no other choice. It’s not a win, but itisan opportunity.
When Quinn nods her head once, President Munchen claps her hands. “Fantastic. The only thing left to sort out is which professor you’ll work with.”
She makes eye contact with Dr. Guarino, whose jaw flexes from how tightly he’s grinding it. He gives a subtle shake of his head. The impact of the rejection infuses itself into Quinn, and I see it transform her body. It’s so reminiscent of her body language whenever her family comes up—quiet and closed off in a way that’s unnatural for her.
I should keep my mouth shut. Should let President Munchen make the call. Then, even if she does pick me, it would be her choice. But the professors have made Quinn feel alone far too often, and I want her to know that I’m choosing to stand with her.
“I’ll do it,” I say, and any nerves I have are wiped away by the grateful look on Quinn’s face.
