NOAH
Dean Harrison didn't sit. He stood at the tall window with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the manicured lawns like they belonged to him personally.
"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Callaghan?"
"I have an idea, but nothing actually—"
He lifted one hand, cutting me off cleanly. "I've spoken with Mrs. Kowalski, Miss Voss, and three other students who witnessed the incident."
"They didn't witness anything," I said, my voice cracking despite myself. "Because nothing happened."
The dean turned slowly. His pale blue eyes were calm—too calm. The kind of calm that made my stomach plummet.
"Miss Voss was crying when she came to my office. Real tears, Noah. She was shaking. She's filed a formal complaint."
He moved behind his massive oak desk and finally sat, lacing his fingers together like a judge passing sentence.
"Her father hasn't been informed yet. She asked us to handle this internally… for now."
The silence that followed felt heavier than the words.
"This puts Westfield in a very difficult position."
Not me. Westfield.
"Sir, I swear on my life—"
"I'm going to be direct with you." His voice stayed quiet, almost kind, but it crawled over my skin like ice. "That new science building? Voss Hall. The library expansion? The Voss Collection. Three endowed scholarships—including yours—are funded by the Voss family."
He leaned forward slightly. "Perception matters. Reputation. Donor confidence. I reviewed your file. Straight A's. Excellent recommendations. That essay was genuinely impressive. I want to believe you."
For a fraction of a second, his expression softened.
"But without a single witness willing to corroborate your version… it's your word against hers. And when one side can make seven-figure donations with a single phone call…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
"So unless Miss Voss withdraws the complaint—and right now she's too distraught to even consider it—you are suspended effective immediately. If the investigation concludes in her favor, it will result in expulsion. Scholarship revoked."
The floor seemed to vanish beneath my feet. Back to Riverside High. Back to metal detectors and counselors who barely looked up when you talked about college. Back to Mom picking up extra night shifts just to keep the heat on.
Dean Harrison rose, signaling the conversation was over.
"You're dismissed for the day. Go home. Think carefully about your next steps." He actually crossed the room and opened the door for me. "And Noah… if you can find it in yourself to speak with Miss Voss directly—perhaps apologize for making her feel unsafe—it might help resolve this quietly."
"For something I didn't do?"
"Intent and impact are not always the same." His voice turned almost fatherly. "Sometimes the bigger person takes the hit so the problem simply disappears."
The door clicked shut behind me. Soft. Expensive. Final.
Marcus was leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed tight, face pale with tension. The moment he saw me, he pushed off the wall.
"What happened?"
"Not here," I rasped, throat burning.
We slipped out through the side exit and into the forgotten courtyard behind the theater—moss-covered benches, overgrown ivy, no one around.
I told him everything. The accusation, the bruises Seraphina had shown, the conveniently "down" cameras, the dean basically admitting the Voss money decided everything. When I reached the part about apologizing, Marcus's jaw tightened.
"That's complete bullshit," he growled. "We'll find witnesses. Someone had to see she was lying—"
"Who, Marcus?" A bitter laugh scraped out of me. "Name one person at this school willing to cross Seraphina Voss for a scholarship kid they've known for two days."
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Exactly." I started pacing, shoving my hands deep into my pockets so he wouldn't see them trembling. "How do you prove you didn't do something? How do you win when the entire school has already decided she's the victim and I'm just the poor kid who got too cocky?"
Marcus dragged a hand through his hair. "There has to be a way—"
"There isn't." My voice cracked. "She wins. People like her always win. They have the money, the name, buildings with their names carved into stone. People like me? We're disposable."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" I stopped and looked at him, eyes stinging. "Two days, man. Two fucking days and I'm already the creep because my mom can't buy a wing of the damn library."
Marcus stepped closer, voice low and fierce. "You're worth ten of her. Don't let her rewrite who you are."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.
But the world wasn't kind to people like me.
"I need to get out of here," I muttered, already turning away.
"Noah—"
I walked off before he could say anything else.