Freshman Just Wanted Dinner — Until Three Bullies Made a Mistake That Cost Them Everything
Chapter 18
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Dean Hargrove was quiet for a long time. "Carol," he said."I know," she said."James Weston called me this morning.""I assumed he might."Another silence. "What do you need from me?" he said."I need you to let me do this properly," she said, "without interference, without timelines being compressed to serve anyone's schedule. And if there's pressure from above, then I would ask you to remember what this institution was built on." Carol said it, not sharply, but the way you say something you mean: quietly, directly.Hargrove said nothing for a moment. "I'll have to convene a preliminary hearing," he said. "The complaint was officially filed. The process requires it.""I understand that.""The hearing is set for Wednesday at 9:00." That was the timeline in the original complaint filing."That's too fast," Carol said. "I haven't completed the technical analysis.""I know, but I don't have grounds to delay it yet—not without alerting Tyler's camp that we're looking at the evidence more carefully.""Then I need until Wednesday morning," Carol said. "Whatever I have by then is what I bring, okay?"A pause. "Carol..." Hargrove said."Yes?""Be thorough.""I always am," she said.Claire's writing seminar ended at 3:40. She walked out of the humanities building and stood for a moment on the front steps. Students moved around her in both directions.Her phone had been off during class. She turned it on: six text messages, none from people she needed to respond to immediately—three from people in her dormitory who had seen the forum post, which was now up to 240 reactions; one from a girl in her study group asking if she was okay; one from a phone number she didn't recognize that just said:Be careful.She stared at that last one for a long time. She did not know who had sent it. She saved the number.Then she started walking. She did not head back to the dorm; she did not go to the library. She went east on Maple Street, past the pharmacy, past the dry cleaner, to the corner of Maple and Fifth.The sign was lit in the late afternoon gray:Miller's Diner.She pushed open the door. The bell rang. Dot was behind the counter; she looked up, saw Claire, and did not look surprised."I said I'd be back Monday," Claire said."I know you did," Dot said. "Sit wherever you want."Claire chose a different booth this time: not the one she had sat in Friday, not the one next to it. She chose one near the back against the wall, where she could see the whole room. She sat down. Dot came over with coffee without being asked."You had a rough couple of days," Dot said. It was not a question."You know about the forum post?" Claire said.