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“Yes, I can see that. The problem, however, is, you’re holding up my friend who I’ve come to visit, and she has another class soon.”
Then, it wasn’t Amory who had told on me? Or was it?
I watched in confusion as he turned his attention back to the professor.
“Your friend, it seems, is in some trouble,” the professor began.
Amory shook his head. “No, I don’t think she is,” he replied.
“I’m sorry, but who are you, and why do you think you have the authority to waltz into my classroom and tell me what is or is not going on?” the professor snapped at him.
Although deodorant wasn’t my biggest issue right now, I hoped mine was equipped for this kind of sweating. If I didn’t have a full-blown panic attack in the next five seconds, it would be a miracle.
“Forgive me,” Amory replied. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Amory Blaine. I believe you’ve heard of my father, George.”
There was a polite arrogance in the gleam in his eyes as he stared down Professor Brereton. One that briefly distracted me from my building anxiety.
“I see,” the professor replied, sounding impressed.
I swung my gaze back to the professor, who now appeared to be nervous.
What was going on? How was the mention of Amory’s father causing Brereton to change so rapidly?
The professor cleared his throat. “I was unaware that Miss Shelton was a friend of your family.”
“Indeed, she is, and if you would be so kind as to”—he glanced at me with a smirk, then back at the professor— “forgive and forget whatever it is that has her so worked up, my family would appreciate it. I hate to see her upset like this, especially with another class to attend.”
If I had been speechless before, then I was full-on mute now. All I could do was stand there and watch in shock—or horror.
“Yes, of course,” Professor Brereton replied, taking a step back. “She is free to go.”
Wait. What?
I stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking or pick up a phone to call security.
He glanced at me. “Excellent job on your paper,” he told me, although I hadn’t turned in a paper.
Two other students had turned in papers that I’d written for them, but my name wasn’t one either of them.
“Excellent,” Amory replied, and I looked back at him.
He held out his arm to me. “Ready?”
No. I was not ready. Professor Brereton knew what I had been doing. Walking out that door would not get me out of trouble. No, out there, I’d have to face it and deal with it.
Why he was letting me go with Amory, I didn’t understand, but I also knew Amory wouldn’t be here for the next class.
“I—he was—I mean, Professor Brereton was—” I was bumbling up my words, not sure what to say exactly, but knowing I had to say something.
“He was accusing you of not being enrolled here and doing other students’ papers for them,” Amory said as he held my gaze.
There was a twinkle of mischief in his eye, and once again, I wondered if he’d done this. Told on me. But why would he do that, then show up here, using his father’s name like a weapon? I didn’t understand.
“Yes.” My voice was just above a whisper.
Amory shifted his gaze back to the professor. “I’m sure Professor Brereton has forgotten all about that. Haven’t you?”
I watched as the professor nodded his head jerkily, his expression somewhat grim.
