7
My parents found out about Sarah’s
“heartbreak hospitalization.”
They didn’t blame Chris.
وو
They certainly didn’t blame their precious
daughter.
وو
Without knowing all the facts, they decided
I’d stolen Sarah’s boyfriend.
They went to the college, accusing me of
inappropriate behavior.
Demanding I write a public apology to be
broadcast to the entire school.
It was laughable.
But they had connections.
I couldn’t fight back.
The Dean summoned me to his office.
He sat behind his desk, sipping tea.
The aroma was rich, but the air was thick
with something unpleasant.
He adjusted his glasses. “If you still want to
study abroad, you’ll write an apology and
read it during morning announcements. It’ll be
a good lesson for the other young ladies as
well.”
This was my third time in his office.
First, the scholarship.
Second, the research project.
Now, Chris.
Like before, I nodded obediently.
Leaving the Dean’s office, I went to the
computer lab.
I spent all night writing.
By dawn, I had hundreds of copies printed.
Before anyone was awake, I plastered them
everywhere.
The flyers detailed years of the Dean’s
abuses of power, using me as an example.
At 8:00 AM, students went to classes, to the
cafeteria, to the gym.
As they encountered my flyers, my voice
echoed from the loudspeakers.
“Sarah Miller, Computer Science, Class of
’26, stole my scholarship, took credit for my
research, and now, after failing to win over
Chris Evans from Information Systems, is
pressuring the Dean to take away my study abroad opportunity!”
“Chris, if you like Sarah, be with her! Stop
making excuses for your two–timing and
accusing me of improper conduct!”
“I never agreed to date Chris. My roommates
and classmates can confirm this!”
“But Sarah and Chris were kissing. Here’s
<
proof of their flirtatious messages! Everyone
has a copy!”
“If you want to accuse me of being
promiscuous, Dean, show me the evidence! Now, I’ll play some recordings of how the
Dean coerced me into giving up what was
rightfully mine! I’m innocent! I’ve been
wronged! I’m the victim here!”
Someone pounded on the broadcasting room
door, trying to break in.
I’d locked it, barricaded it with furniture.
I played the recordings.
My parents‘ voices, Sarah’s voice, the Dean’s.
When it was over, our class group chat
exploded.
My classmates, my roommates, all voiced
their support.
“Ashley, you did nothing wrong! We’re with
you!”
‘Ashley, don’t be afraid! We’ll back you up!”
<
“Ashley, that study abroad spot is yours!
We’ll take this to court if we have to!”
That day, the campus buzzed with
accusations against Sarah and the Dean.
My parents became targets too.
After years of silence, I’d finally won.
