I laughed, hollow. “God. It is true.”
“Savannah, listen—”
“Don’t youdaretell me this is complicated,” I snapped. “You’vepreachedabout integrity mywholelife. About rules and reputation. And now I find out you’re part of... whatever this is?”
He stood, buttoning his jacket like armor. His tone dropped to the cool, warning one he used in board meetings. “What I’m part of?” He assessed me coolly. “What I am part of is keeping this university running. Do you think donors pay millions to see us lose? To see our starplaymakersbenched because of an exam?” He squared his shoulders. “Sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the greater good.”
The ground tilted under me. I gripped the edge of a chair. “Sacrifices?That’s what you call lying?Cheating?”
His jaw tightened. “I call it survival of an institution.”
“I cannot believe you! You hypocritical—”
“Savannah Annabeth Cole.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Watch your tone with me.”
I gaped at him. “My tone? My fuckingtone?” I don’t think I’d ever been so angry at my father. Not even when he let my mother walk all over him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Savannah.” His voice was low and even, his fingertips pushing into the desk as he leveled me with a look. “Do not embarrass yourself by insulting your intelligence with such foul language.”
I bit back the words that basically told him to go fuck himself; anger never won arguments. Logic did. Ironically, it was my father who taught me that.
I took a deep, calming breath, my body vibrating with rage.
“You said you call it survival?” My voice cracked.
“Don’t be naïve, Savannah.” His tone cut like a scalpel, sharper than the ones my mother used, I was sure. “The athletic program feeds this university. It keeps the doorsopen, keeps the lights on in your precious art department. Without football, without hockey, without half of these sports programs, more than half of this campus wouldn’t exist as you know it.”
I blinked at him. “So that makes it okay to bend the rules? To break them?”
His eyes narrowed. “To protect what matters,yes.”
We stared at each other across a few feet, but it felt like miles were between us.
Dad sighed. “Every athlete here, no matter their sport, is on a full scholarship,” he explained, carefully, like I was a cornered animal and he was afraid I’d bite. “There are hundreds of eligible athletes—”
“I know this,” I snapped at him, my temper still throbbing at my temples.
“And do you know that for every two of those top-tier scholarships, I can grant anacademicscholarship to people whodeservea higher education? Who will benefit from it? People whose talent, whose opportunity to go further in life, is their mind? Their brains? We give them that chance, Savannah, here, at Wrighton. So if the defensive end struggles with economics, should the academic student miss out because that player loses eligibility?” He fixed me with a firm stare. “It’s about checks and balances.”
“You mean those checks you chase at every dinner, every fundraiser?” I asked him scathingly.
“Do you think I’m the first dean to look the other way? Do you think Chuck Harringtonacedhis finals?” My dad’s tone was as scathing as mine.
My chest tightened. “And what about the players? What about Dante?”
“Not every athlete here needs help, Savannah,” he said with a scowl. “These men and women are fighters, they have the brains, they have the ability, the majority of them will never need the aid of tutors, and those that do, most of them just need direction. It’s not like some places where some players never even turn up for class,” he scoffed.
“Oh my God...” I was breathing hard. “Did you just try and give your cheatingstandards?”
“Savannah, you aren’t a fool—”
“You’re thedean. You’re supposed to set the example, not—”
“Grow up.”
Two words that stunned me. His stare was hard and unyielding. “I’m almost twenty-one, I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.” He sniffed.
