Flynn peered down at me. “My, my,” she said with a click of her tongue. “Aren’t you an opinionated one?”
I stayed quiet, keeping my gaze level with Flynn’s own.
“Though I admire your allegiance to O’Connor,” she continued, “I encourage you to focus less on his ‘sudden absence’ and more on your thesis. I assume you have something to present to me?”
I looked away from her then. I had been up half the night trying to figure out what to propose as my thesis idea, knowing that I couldn’t walk into Flynn’s office empty-handed, but no matter how many subjects I considered, none of them captured my attention half as much as O’Connor’s research.
“Miss Costello?” Flynn snapped her fingers. “Have I lost you? What is your thesis topic?”
“The history of Waverly,” I blurted out. O’Connor’s research was Waverly-centric, and since it was the only thing I could concentrate on recently, the university’s inauguration seemed a probable subject for my thesis. My brain worked furiously to expand on it. “You know,” I said, gesturing pointlessly with my hands. “Waverly is one of the most esteemed institutions in America. Its graduates are known to become some of the most influential members in society. I’ve been researching Waverly’s background.”
Flynn twiddled a ballpoint pen between her fingers. “All of that is well and good, Miss Costello, but I’m afraid you need an angle.”
“An angle?”
“Yes, a thesis isn’t simply an extensive research paper,” she said. She pushed herself away from the desk, wandering toward the bookshelf. I twisted around to keep her in my line of sight. “You must propose some kind of new information to us, something original to prove to the committee that you’ve made the most out of your time here at Waverly.”
“In that respect, I’ve already narrowed my focus,” I responded. “I’ve been examining the most successful Waverly graduates throughout the years. In fact, the numbers there are astonishing. Did you know that Waverly has churned out more CEOs and reputable business owners than any other university in the United States? The Ivy League is wondering how we do it. I am too.”
“I see. And do you have any of this information available for me to look over?”
She had me there. All of my information was from O’Connor’s research, and there was no way in hell I would share that with Flynn. “Unfortunately, my laptop and I had a misunderstanding this morning,” I said. It was better to get nailed for the faulty-technology excuse than bring up the dubious legality of holding O’Connor’s files hostage. “My flash drive was erased.”
Flynn removed her reading glasses and folded in the temples. “Miss Costello, do you understand that without a completed thesis, you will not be able to finish your degree?”
“I’m well aware.”
“Good. This is not a joke, Miss Costello. Waverly takes your education very seriously.” At this point, Flynn had said my last name so many times that it now sounded tired in her mouth. “I suggest you revitalize your dedication to your thesis. Perhaps we’ll have another professor cover O’Connor’s American History class. That should leave you with quite enough time to spend in the library.”
I didn’t dare argue, despite the fact that I rather enjoyed teaching that class. “Whatever you see fit, Dr. Flynn.”
Flynn sat down behind her desk again, entwining her fingers together. “Miss Costello, I expect to see you in my office again very soon. At that time, if you do not have a substantial amount of work to present to me, we will consider why you decided to waste so much time at our university.”
“Was that a dismissal?” I asked, my temper bubbling over. “Can I go now?”
“You may.”
I stood, buttoned my coat, and turned away from Flynn to leave.
“Miss Costello?” Flynn had donned her reading glasses again, sparing not a glance at me as she typed away at her computer. “As you research Waverly’s most auspicious students, perhaps consider the reasons as to why you are not rising to their ranks.”
I had no response for Flynn that wouldn’t automatically get me booted out of Waverly, so I left her office, slamming the door shut so hard that its inset windowpane rattled.
Outside Research Hall, the cold nipped at my nose. I exhaled heavily, watching a puff of vapor escape from my mouth and float upward. Unlike some of the other students at Waverly, I wasn’t privileged enough to have the faculty and staff in my back pocket. O’Connor, it turned out, was the only professor on campus that had any faith in me, and now that he was gone, I was at a loss. I spared a moment to gather myself, sitting briefly on the stone steps of the building to rest my head in my hands, but the cold quickly seeped through my jeans and into my bones. Flurries of snowflakes were falling again, so I picked myself up before too many of them could settle in my hair and turned my feet toward home.
As I walked down the short alley between Research Hall and the next building over, grateful that the towering brick structures sheltered me from the worst of the wind, I heard the crunch of footsteps through dead leaves behind me. This alone wouldn’t have startled me, but when the footsteps quickened and crescendoed, I whirled around with my hands at the ready.
“Easy!”
The owner of the footsteps was a young woman, bundled up in a snow jacket and several layers of scarves. Her deep-set eyes watered, from the wind or something else I didn’t know, and her shoulder-length, dark hair was greasy and unkempt as though it hadn’t been washed in several days. Though she raised her hands as an indication of innocence, her harried appearance made me uneasy.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Probably not,” she said. She glanced behind her, as if to make sure that the two of us were alone in the narrow alleyway. “But I think I can help you.”
“How so?”
She stepped
