Page 15 of Hailey Goes to College

“So I was talking to this guy, Josh Thompson, do you know him?”

The look on his face tells me he does. “Vaguely.”

“Right. Well, he says that there may be some students who are a little…enthusiastic about their stock trading.”

“Enthusiastic,” he draws, as if repeating my words back to me will make him understand better. “Are you asking if I’m one of those…enthusiastic people?”

Ugh. When he says it like that it makes me sound like a psycho. “He mentioned Hamilton. And a Ryan.”

“And naturally you thought of me.”

“You’re the only Ryan I know in our dorm,” I remind him, shrugging my shoulders.

His face twists into a scowl and he sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the only person you know,” he bites.

That stings, but I choose to ignore it. “I just want to be able to eliminate you. Or if you know if it’s just all bull shit I can tell Kevin now and then write about something else.”

“A lot of the guys play at stockbroker already. It’s not a big deal or a secret. Not sure why this is a story.” He spits out the word as if it’s offensive.

“So you aren’t involved.” It’s not a question. I want to move on, forget this conversation ever happened.

“I’m not involved,” he grinds out, “because there’s nothing to be involved in.”

He stands up and moves to leave, and I hit my knees on the table in my hurry to stand and stop him. “Wait. I’m sorry. I was just trying to do a good job.”

“I’m not a Bond villain, Nancy Drew, and I don’t really want to wait around while you figure that out.”

He walks out without waiting for a response and I contemplate chasing after him and apologizing, to explain that I wasn’t trying to accuse him of anything. I sit down, thankful that it’s so early and there hasn’t been anyone around to witness the embarrassing scene. I push the palms of my hands into my eyes, willing myself not to cry. It’s stupid to cry over someone you’ve been on one date with and who then insulted you by calling you Nancy Drew. Little does he know his insult wasn’t one at all to me, I loved Nancy Drew, she was the shit

I drag myself up and out of the student center, walking slowly back to the dorm so as not to run into him. I should tell Kevin the story is bogus and ask about writing about the chicken finger shortage in the dining hall. At least that’s something people actually want to read about. Why do I even care so much? It’s not like I’ve decided to be a journalism major. So far all it’s done is cost me a date.

Kelsey is up when I get back and I must have a horrible poker face because she gives me a pitying look as soon as I close the door.

“This,” she circles a finger in front of her face, “does not look like good news.”

“I talked to Ryan,” I tell her, walking over to my bed and falling face-first into my pillow.

“That bad?” I feel the bed shift as she sits next to me and runs her fingers through my hair.

I sigh and turn my head. “He got really mad. Walked out. Accused me of playing Nancy Drew.”

“I’m sorry, Hailey.” She looks over my bed and stares at the wall for a moment. “Do you think he’s done something? You know what they say about the lady doth protest too much.”

I frown. It hadn’t crossed my mind before. I sit up, disentangling myself from her. Did I truly think Ryan has done anything untoward? No, but that doesn’t make it true. We’ve not known each other very long, and one date a trusting relationship does not make. “I don’t know,” I confess and I snatch my bag up from the floor. “But I’m going to find out.”

“What do you mean?” She looks down as I flip through my Moleskin. “Hailey, what are you going to do?”

“Before he stormed out, Ryan called me Nancy Drew, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Nancy got into a lot of trouble in those books,” she reminds me. “Are you sure this is what you want to do? Maybe you should just forget about it.”

That’s probably the smart thing to do, but I don’t want to drop it. The way Ryan got mad at me makes me think there’s something there, something I should push. Maybe he’s right and there is nothing to be involved in, but if he gets that upset over the word “enthusiastic” I can’t help but wonder who else would.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hide in any grandfather clocks trying to figure out who knows about Microsoft deals or whatever.” I’ll just hide at Starbucks kiosks waiting for someone to start bragging about things they shouldn’t.

I skip my morning classes in favor of the library, hoping to find something I can use. I just pray I won’t have to use a microfiche machine. When I reach the library I find it quiet, with only a few students scattered around, immersed in their studies. I find a secluded corner and set up my laptop, determined to uncover the truth about Ryan and the rumors. I start by searching for any news articles or reports related to online trading at our university. Nothing significant comes up, which makes sense since Josh said it was mostly rumors.

Next, I decide to dig into Ryan’s past. I type his full name into the search engine, adding keywords like “business,” “finance,” and “trading.” At first, I don’t find much—just some basic information about his high school achievements and some social media profiles. But then I stumble upon a discussion forum for aspiring stock traders. One thread catches my eye: “Young Trading Prodigy from Northern Illinois.”

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