Page 130 of Boiling Point
I pushed the folder back across the desk. “A complete joke—that’s how it looks.”
Dr. Singh didn’t blink. “We don’t decide how it looks. We’re obligated to review complaints brought forward in good faith. The policy is clear.”
Dr. Lemke put on an expression of empathy, but his words rang hollow. “Fourteen students don’t come forward out of thin air, Cal.”
“They do if they’re prompted by someone with an agenda.” I drummed my fingers on the table, a tic I couldn’t suppress. “Look closely. Half of these are carbon copies. You know why? Because someone is disgruntled and orchestrating this circus.” I swallowed, heat rising in my ears. “And you both know it.”
Dr. Singh set her jaw. “Do you have proof?”
“Not yet. But a search through social media should give you all the proof you need.”
She folded her arms—her tell that the conversation was closed. “Given the volume and nature of the claims, we have no choice but to reopen disciplinary proceedings.”
“This nonsense again, really? I’ve already resigned. What more do you want from me?”
Dr. Lemke cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Your resignation doesn’t take effect until the end of summer.”
“Then accelerate it,” I said. “I’m already packed. I’ll be out by the end of the day. If it makes anyone’s life easier, I’ll walk out now and never look back.”
Dr. Singh’s gaze held steady, but her voice edged defensive. “We’re under significant pressure from the Board of Trustees,” she said. “They’ve taken a direct interest in this case.”
I let the words hang, a sour bloom of disbelief rising behind my ribs. “What the hell do they have to do with this?”
She bristled—just a flicker, a tightening around her eyes.
Dr. Lemke leaned in, palms up in a placating gesture. “Easy, Cal. We’re all just trying to do what’s right.”
I exhaled, slow and controlled, and steepled my fingers. “Forgive me. But what, precisely, does the Board of Trustees have to do with a faculty conduct matter?”
Dr. Lemke shifted, glancing at Dr. Singh like he hoped she’d take it. She obliged.
“The Board sets institutional priorities. In the wake of recent cases—nationally—they’re hyperaware of anything that could damage Page’s reputation. They want this handled by the book. More than that, they want the appearance of being above reproach.”
I folded my arms and leveled a stare at Dr. Singh. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Trustee Cartwright, would it?”
She exchanged a brief glance with her colleague—a flick, but enough to confirm my suspicion.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“His daughter was in my Physics 112 course this spring. We didn’t see eye to eye.” I let the implication hang. “Her attendance was laughable. She demanded to be allowed to make up missed quizzes and to reschedule her midterm so she could leave early for spring break. Naturally, I refused. At the end of the term, she asked me to inflate her grade. I told her she got exactly what she earned. She threatened to ‘take it all the way to the top.’” I looked at Lemke, then Singh. “I assume this is what she meant.”
Neither replied. Dr. Singh looked down at her folded hands. Lemke opened his mouth—perhaps for a platitude—but closed again, as if he knew it wasn’t worth the trouble.
“It doesn’t take a PhD to connect the dots,” I added.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, hoping for Gabrielle’s name and the screenshots I’d asked for. But it was Isabel.
Call me.
I ignored it.
Dr. Singh’s expression was impossible to parse. On a better day, I might have admired her poker face. “We have to treat every complaint as credible,” she said, voice honed to a bureaucratic sheen. “Regardless of the source.”
“Of course,” I said. “So when does the circus start again?”
“I’ll convene a new review board—all new members to avoid any bias.”
I scoffed, but she didn’t react. My phone buzzed again. Another message from Isabel.
