Page 39 of Forging Legacy

I nod and briefly close my eyes, picturing Fern's face. The hurt in her eyes when she left the stadium, the fear of losing everything she's worked for. It tears me apart, knowing that I'm the cause of her pain. “Fern has so much to lose. She … I hate that her knowing me exposes her like that.”

Dad nods and taps on the table. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes searching mine. I can see the worry etched in the lines of his face, but there's also a fierce determination, an unspoken promise there. “I had a similar conflict when I first got with your mother.” His mouth tips in a small grin, like the memory is mostly pleasant now. “I don’t need to remind you it’s important to protect the people you love. Or that you have my full support and any help I can offer to do that.”

I swallow a lump and twirl the pen in my hands. "I don't want Fern to suffer because of me, Dad. She's worked so hard for her future, and I can't be the reason she loses everything."

Dad pulls me in for a hug like I’m a kid instead of a grown-ass man who keeps acting like a child. Dad says, "Son, you've got a good heart. We'll figure this out together. Fern's part of the family now, and we take care of our own."

I shake my head against his shoulder. “She asked me to give her space. I want to respect that.”

He hums, low and long. “That’s a good instinct. But are you sure that’s what she’s really asking for?”

I nod and sniff through my nose, grounding myself, finally setting down the chewed-up pen. “Yeah. And I think I know how to offer her that distance and still make sure she’s okay.”

Dad arches a brow and rubs a hand across his stubble. “How’s that, son? Want to run your plan past me? Or Uncle Tim?”

I shake my head and stand, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know what I need to do. I’m ready to go find everyone now.”

Dad stares down at my feet and I remember that I’m standing around in my socks, and that I came up here right from the field. We both laugh, and he walks me to the locker room to get changed. I know what I need to do, and it’s going to piss off my parents, but I know it’s the right thing to do–for Fern. For her future. I’ll sacrifice whatever I can to make things right for her.

Chapter30

Fern

I don’t expectanyone to be around during spring break, but after I spent the night crying in my room, obsessively refreshing websites and my email, I can’t handle being alone anymore. I travel to the math department, hoping Professor Yoon has decided to work from their office while things are quiet, and the students are away.

They don’t seem like the kind of person who goes on a big bender for spring break, and I’m grateful when I see the light shining under their office door. I tap lightly on the wood, knowing I have to face this. Have to come clean about emotional baggage to a mentor who has always been dreadfully matter-of-fact and pragmatic. “Yes?” Their voice sounds muffled and sure enough, I open the door to see them behind a trio of giant monitors. They must be running a complex series of programs.

I step into the room and close the door behind me. “I was hoping I could speak with you.” I sink into the chair opposite their desk.

Professor Yoon peeks over the lowest monitor, adjusting their glasses. “Ah, yes. Ms. Montgomery.” They stand and walk around to the other side of the desk, leaning against it, hands at their sides, fingers tapping the surface. “I received a strange email yesterday afternoon with a link to an online article that no longer exists.”

I nod. I hadn’t realized the story had been taken down already. Maybe that means it’s okay? That the story lacked veracity?

Professor Yoon seems to be waiting for me to speak next, so I add, “I went to the stadium to support Wyatt. He’s one of my students in the recitation.”

Professor Yoon nods. “Yes, I took note of that, as well as some official registration updates. Strange. It all showed up in my email at once. You know how I feel about email.”

“You hate it?”

They laugh. “I hate most disruptions. This week is for long periods of uninterrupted analysis! Can you justfeelthe data forming patterns?” They clap their hands.

I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I’m not sure how the reporter was able to get information about me…or even if what they wrote was true …”

Professor Yoon nods. “Yes, there did seem to be a FERPA violation.”

“FERPA?” I frown, unfamiliar with that term.

Professor Yoon holds up their hands in a “mea culpa” gesture. “I have been so remiss in your training for this assistantship. The graduate students will have learned that it’s a federal offense to release student registration information. But I’m also making a hypothesis that it was not you who told the reporter about Wyatt’s enrollment in your class and subsequent withdrawal from school?”

“No, it was definitely not me, but—wait. Withdrawal?”

They frown at me. “Is that not why you’re here today? To update your roster? WyattMoyerand his legal team wrote to update his transcripts with his legal name and then withdrew from the university. Something about professional obligations abroad?” They shrug. “Usually, in these cases, the students simply take an incomplete and finish their degree later. I have no idea why he would totally withdraw from the entire school over a gossip article … Ms. Montgomery, are you all right?”

I dab at my face, where tears have started to fall down my cheeks. If Wyatt withdrew from school, that means he was trying to keep his word. He made it so he isn’t my student, hoping to help me keep my funding. Nobody but my mom has ever made that kind of sacrifice for me. I’m not sure how to handle this. I close my eyes and say, “He did it for me, Professor. Because the truth is that he wasn’t just my student. I’ve been … involved.”

I open my eyes to see Professor Yoon unmoved, blinking, waiting for me to continue. “I met him before the semester began … and he had that whole name change situation, so I didn’t realize it was him on the roster and —”

“And you didn’t mention it or switch sections when you had the opportunity?” I shake my head. They tap their fingers on the desk again. “Well, this is a bit of a pickle … but truthfully, I don’t have time to map out all the prongs of this fork.” They shrug. “The student has withdrawn and is, in fact, leaving the country. They were in a pass-fail recitation where the grade is based solely on attendance … I assume you took accurate and unbiased attendance records?” I nod. They nod. “It would be very hard indeed to botch attendance records.” They emit a deep sigh and peek over one of the monitors at the program running on the screen. I can see pink lines intersecting with green ones on the monitor as a graph forms, fractal patterns blooming across the three monitors.

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