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Wesley drops into the chair next to me, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I understand your position, Tom, but I’m so tired of seeing stories on the news where women get attacked by stalkers or exes when all of that horror could have been avoided if people had intervened sooner. The whole reason I’m still here after Fantasy Flavors took off is because I believe you’re onto something with this method of learning. I don’t want my student or this academy to be just another story on the news.”
This conversation is just flip-flopping between idealism and hiding behind regulations—exactly what I’d expected would happen and why I didn’t want to be here in the first place.
I know Wesley means well. I know he’s worried about me, but this is making things worse for me, not better.
I clear my throat to get their attention.
“Excuse me, I have something to say.”
When they both turn to look at me, the reality of being in the academy president’s office hits me in full force.
You’ll have to say this just right. One slip-up and you’ll out your relationship to the highest authority in the academy.
My leg starts to bounce as the nervous energy zings through my body.
I focus on a point just above the president’s head so I can talk without a trace of panic in my voice.
“The first thing I want to make clear is that I didn’t have any part in coming in here. I’ve been through this before, and I understand that documentation and using official channels is important. Wesley’s barging in here was his misguided attempt to protect me. Since the letters started, I’ve been coming to class anxious and distracted. So when he saw that things had escalated, he lost his temper. Please don’t reprimand him for being a teacher who cares about the academy and its students. I’m sure he’ll cooperate with my plan.”
He raises a bushy eyebrow at me. “What plan?”
“I’ve had some time to think about it, and I think the best way forward would be to have one day of classes during the week rather than three evenings a week. Less of a chance for him to run into me here. Saturday is my day off. That would be the best time to do it. My evenings will be free to look after my son to make sure he’s safe, and the Age Gap Academy lowers its risk of an incident on campus.”
He’s silent for a moment, then says, “And you think your teachers will go for that?”
“It’s actually something I brought up to them about a week ago because they each expressed concern for me. We brainstormed a bit, and they helped me fine-tune my plan.
“I just hadn’t gotten up the nerve yet to go to the registrar and request a change of schedule. There were only five weeks left—well, four weeks now—so it didn’t seem worth it. Now, though, I’ll need to change my schedule since apparently, he’s come all the way from Vegas to harass me. Since Wesley dragged me in here, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask you about it.”
“I’m not exactly the registrar, Miss Ross.”
“But you can authorize the change as a special circumstance,” I say. “I’m sure the academy president outranks the registrar.”
He looks at Wesley. “And all of you are fine with this?”
“Jamie, Phillip, and I have been trying to get her to see the registrar ever since she floated the idea to us during class last week. We’d even had a meeting, just the three of us, to figure out how we could convince her.”
I hadn’t known that.
Tom sighs, defeated. “I suppose you have your solution, Wesley. Miss Ross, thank you for keeping a level head. I’ll see that Kay notifies the registrar of the change as soon as they come in tomorrow morning.
“Next Saturday is when you’ll start the new schedule. Perhaps during class time, you can spend a few minutes instructing your teacher on how not to lose their temper with someone who can fire them.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Once we reach the classroom, I go straight to the sink to clean out the cut on my finger.
“Wesley, can you get me a Band-Aid and a finger sleeve?”
He rushes over like a concerned mother hen. “What happened? You haven’t even touched a knife yet.”
“Paper cut.”
His face falls. “I did that when I ripped the card out of your hand, didn’t I? After all the work I’ve done, I still can’t stop hurting people when I’m angry.”
“It was an accident. It’s fine,” I say, trying to reassure him.
