Page 17 of Scandal

“And you were at a student party, when you were asked not to attend for the entire year.”

“I was outside of the party, yes.” There is no use arguing with Runkin on the details of the event. It wouldn’t sound right anyway, my reasons for going.I’m obsessed with my roommate. I was mad he left for the night. I didn’t want him to meet some asshole. I was right anyway, and he was almost sexually assaulted by your star football player.Yeah, that would sound great coming from me. Totally believable.

“Any particular reason for hitting Mr. Browning?”

“I was defending my roommate, Cameron.”

Runkin’s right eyebrow lifts. “Cameron Parker?”

“Not sure. That could be his last name. Can’t really remember.” I shrug. Just a half lie. Truth is, I try not to know too much about Cameron. Better for him if I don’t.

The man’s face seems to twist through a series of expressions before settling back to neutral. “And you understand not to do it again?”

Stunned by his words, which are making it sound like I’m being let off the hook, I stare at him. His eyes meet mine in the pause.

“Uh, right. I won’t.”

Runkin gives his famous smile-frown. “Good.” He taps out some words on his keyboard before closing it. He shifts. Focusing attention back on me. “And how is the new code coming along? Should we expect it before midterms?”

I straighten in my chair. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

Then I get a rare Runkin smile. “Better deliver, Mr. Briggs.”

“Of course, sir.”

There is an awkward beat before he frowns again, making a walking motion with his fingers. “On your way then.”

“Right.” I leap from my seat and make a hasty exit, before I break those condescending fingers of his.

***

As I make my way to class, I can’t help replaying that weird kaleidoscope of facial expressions Runkin wore, after mentioning Cameron. Is Cameron’s last name Parker? Why would Runkin know Cameron? How did Zack have time this morning to make a complaint about me?

The thoughts don’t stop, even as I sit in my coding paradigms course. My laptop is open in front of me, though I’m not taking notes. But I am curious about Cameron, and what he means to Runkin.

Maybe just a little peak at the school files won’t hurt. Not like I’m going to do anything with the information. Unless Runkin has it out for Cam. That’s something I’d need to know about.

Just this one last time, I’ll use my fake staff credentials to get into the student system, which I created in secret during my first semester when they had me test computer security. I log into the student record system to look for anything that might give me a clue. It’s the standard stuff, like Cameron’s birthday, his permanent address (which is oddly local), his class schedule. But there is something interesting... he has a tuition waiver. It’s a code I’ve never seen before STFWVR.

Pulling up the database dictionary, I check it out, filtering by code to see the meaning: Staff Waiver.

So, someone who works here is related to Cam. Or Cam works here, though I didn’t see an employee record for him in my search.

I pull up the employee records and type in the last name Parker. There are three of them. I guess it is a common last name.

The first Parker is Deborah, but the records show she was terminated six years ago. The next is Thomas, but he is a twenty-two-year-old tutor in the student success center. Neither of those could be his relative, not one that qualifies for a tuition waiver at least. Then there is Martin Parker, and my stomach flips violently. Martin, aka Marty Parker. Aka, the fucking new president of the fucking college.

Ahh shit.

No wonder Runkin flipped a nut at the name. He didn’t realize the random housing lottery stuck me—the school’s most unsavory fuckup—with Cameron, the president’s baby boy.

Well, I guess that’s me done then. As soon the president finds out about me, he’ll rip Cameron out of the dorms so fast my head will spin, if they don’t find a reason to kick me out first.

Of course he’s the president’s son. Only I would fall for someone that would result in a fatal error of epic proportions.

Is that what happened though? Did I really fall for a guy? Do I really care about someone in a real way? It seems very unlikely, so I naturally doubt it. There must be some angle I’m playing, that even I don’t see yet. Some way I want to exploit Cam, or fuck with him. I mean, the president’s son? That’s pretty fucking on point for my tastes.

But that’s so not how it is. I know that, deep down. Still though, it’s not to say my fucked-up brain won’t use this new information to its advantage. I’m definitely going to have to keep Cam at arm’s length now. No more cuddle sessions. No more swooping in like Superman.

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