Page 97 of Cruel Steps

“What’s AES?”

“It’s the Accessibility and Equality Club.”

“Wow. That’s so cool. Thank you.” She smiled and took her seat. A few more people around us said hello and talked to Cody about the game. It was strange to be approached by so many people in class. Even at Brighton, I hadn’t been popular. The class started a few minutes later, and the professor caught my eye immediately.

“Ah, Miss Adams and Mr. Rivers. You both took the assignment to heart and shared it with the whole school. That was a bold move. What anthropological implications might we draw from the way they presented their report?”

Hands rose, and the professor called on students. I sat in shock as the entire classroom conversed about a topic I wrote about.

“I think it’s a good example of how the internet and social media can be used for good in scenarios. Emerson’s personal reflection spoke to many people and had a far-reaching ability compared to if she’d just shared it in class or even in a print newspaper,” a girl in the first row said.

“It’s interesting the effects it’s had on campus as well. People I’ve never seen conversing have been having open conversations and stepping out of their perceived boxes to make connections,” a guy in the middle added.

“I agree. It’s caused a lot of people to consider how their words and actions can be harmful, even if they don’t intend it that way. It was an exercise in self-reflection on a grand scale. Not one person I’ve talked to has been able to ignore her words.”

“There’s been a shift on campus, too,” another student added. “The houses that typically have the power in social circles have been iced out. I saw it this morning when they appeared on campus. The people who usually flock to them and do their bidding didn’t, and the houses didn’t know how to function without their minions. It’s like Emerson’s words reminded everyone with a voice to use it. Together, we’re stronger than the few bullies.”

I blinked and looked at Cody. He grinned widely at me, nudging me with his shoulder. The students continued to discuss the topic, bouncing off one another and adding their opinions. The professor leaned against the podium with her arms crossed and a smile on her face. She’d nodded along and directed the points at times, but mostly, she sat back and let the class lead themselves. That in and of itself was beautiful to watch.

“As you can see, Miss Adams and Mr. Rivers, anthropological changes can occur with a single ripple, creating a tidal wave of change. Thank you for sharing your truth and inspiring such beautiful conversations and organic change. I think the class can agree that you both deserve an A+.”

The room applauded, turning to peer back at the two of us. I blushed at their praise. I didn’t feel like I’d done anything significant other than standing up for myself. But to hear all of their interpretations and the changes they’d noticed, I now knew differently. Cody and I packed our stuff and left the classroom in a daze.

“I never realized how much power I had before. I always thought no one cared, yet I worried about everyone else’s thoughts.” I gave a dry chuckle. “Ironic how when I quit caring what people thought and shared my truth, everyone saw me.”

“The world is a crazy place,” Cody said, nodding. “You good?” he asked, turning in the opposite direction.

“Yeah. See you later.”

I moved about the rest of the day in the same daze. People approached me all day, telling me their stories or how my words resonated. It soothed a broken piece inside me and sparked an idea for something new—a way forward.

When I stepped out of my last class, I knew I couldn’t put off the noose hanging around my neck any longer. I still didn’t know what decision to make, and I hoped it would come to me when I arrived. Opening the door to Dean Adroit’s office, it sort of did.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

EMERSON

“Miss Adams, please come in.” Dean Adroit smiled at me, but there was no warmth in it. I glanced at her two guests—Rose and Hope, in a wheelchair. I frowned, confused why they were there. Rose offered me a reassuring nod, so I closed the door and took the empty seat.

My eyes immediately fell to the pad of paper still lying open on her desk. Gulping, I placed my hands under my legs to stop myself from reaching out for it. I wouldn’t be intimidated by Hope.

“Miss Adler was telling me an interesting story. I wonder what your thoughts about it are?”

“Oh?” I looked at my stepmom and step-sister. Hope refused to look at me, but Rose’s eyes were full of compassion. I swallowed, my heart picking up pace as I tried to decipher the unspoken words. When Dean Adroit didn’t elaborate, I forced out a question. “What did she say?”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Instead of answering, she leaned back in her chair and studied me.

“You don’t have to cover for me, Emerson. I told Dean Adroit the truth; that I was the one who sent the video.”

“You did?” I blinked in shock. “Wow.” My mind blanked, and I worried I was having a stroke or something. Did I smell toast?

“Do you concur with this, Emerson?”

“If Hope is admitting to it, shouldn’t her word be enough?”

“When my daughter told me about the dilemma you placed on Emmy—I mean Emerson—I was quite shocked, Dean Adroit,” Rose interrupted. “I knew she had to be mistaken. A person of high authority as yourself would never blackmail a victim of bullying by bullying them to make their job easier, especially after a student was injured so gravely on campus.” Rose pursed her lips, staring right at the Dean. “So, was it a mistake, Miranda?”

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