Page 139 of Boiling Point
“Gabrielle, love.”
“Yes?”
I kissed the back of her hand and drew in a breath. “I know you’re determined to help clear my name. But I would ask—beg, really—that you reconsider speaking to the review board.”
Chapter 50
Gabrielle
“Dr. Lemke?” I voiced as I tapped on his door. The dean of students was hunched over his keyboard, staring at the computer screen like he could force its contents to change by sheer willpower.
He looked up, startled, then pushed away from his desk as recognition set in. “Come on in,” he invited warmly, motioning to a cozy conversational set in the corner. “Have a seat. Gabrielle Clark, right?”
I nodded as I sat in a minimalist, burgundy leather armchair. “I’m flattered you remember.”
He took the chair across from me. “Of course I do. Engineering major. Legacy student. Commuter. You’re hard to forget.”
“Thanks…?” I fidgeted with the hem of my blouse.
“So, what brings you to campus in the middle of summer?”
I looked down. Maybe this was a mistake.
Dr. Lemke dropped his voice to a hush. “Would this have anything to do with Dr. Hawthorne?”
His candor startled me. I bit my bottom lip until it stung. “Why would you think that?”
He gave a small, not unkind smile and crossed one leg over the other. The creases down his khakis were crisp and even. “Dr. Hawthorne has been a popular topic around here lately.”
Heat flared at the base of my neck. My words jammed somewhere between my heart and my teeth. I popped to my feet. “I shouldn’t have come?—”
He held up both palms. “I only want to help you, Gabrielle.” He looked up at me, his expression open and earnest. “I know you’re not currently enrolled,” he continued, “which is a loss for us, by the way. But I’m Dean of Students forallstudents, even those in transition. My job is to make sure you’re safe, heard, and have options.” He motioned to my vacated chair. “So…how can I help?”
Reluctantly, I sat back down.
He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, equal parts confidential and fatherly. “Clearly, you came to my office for a reason today. You’re not in any trouble here—let’s lead with that.”
I picked at a hangnail until the skin burned. “I know Dr. Hawthorne is under disciplinary review.”
He nodded, a small gesture, but his posture sharpened. “I can’t go into the details, but yes.”
I swallowed hard, the motion thick and uncooperative. “I have information for the college, but I don’t know who to talk to.”
“Normally, these matters are handled strictly between faculty and the review board. But if you’ve got information relevant to the case, you could submit a written statement. That’s the usual channel.”
“That’s not good enough.” I heard the edge in my voice and tried to soften it. “I don’t want to submit a statement. I want to talk to someone. In person. So nothing gets…misinterpreted. I’llanswer questions. I just want to make sure the truth actually gets heard. That nothing gets lost in translation.”
He studied me, letting the silence bloom, then drummed his fingers on his knee. “Dr. Monroe is the review board chair. She’s the one you want.”
“I know her. I took her psych class in the spring.”
Dr. Lemke stood and crossed to his desk. “She’s great—and very fair.” He reached for his desk phone. “I’m pretty sure she’s on campus today. Want me to see if she’ll drop by?”
I chewed my lip while he flipped through a laminated directory. I sucked in a quick breath and answered before I could back out. “Yes.”
The next ten minutes crawled by in awkward small talk—weather, summer travel, reading recommendations. Anything but the elephant in the room.
Dr. Monroe clicked her nails on the metal doorframe as she entered the office. She wore dark denim capris paired with a breezy white blouse, and her chocolate-brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that was the right mix of styled and messy.
