The Archer

Cruel Summer

As students started filing out of a 100-person lecture hall in the West Bank campus of the University of Minnesota, Dr. Mouse Montegomery-Tyler, Ph.D. stood at the podium rubbing at her temple. Usually, a 90-minute lecture was nothing for the now-seasoned professor, but this year's first-year class was something straight out of hell, and being pulled to teach an intro to feminist studies gen-ed class made it even worse. Spending the last year-and-a-half of high school strictly online in their own homes had left the kids as socially mature as freshly-turned 16-year-olds, and it was grating on Mouse's nerves. They were loud, disrespectful, and loathe to participate. She needed to think of a way to whip this year's incoming class into shape, and quick, if she was going to make it out alive.

As the dull thudding in her head kept beat with her heart, Mouse watched as one of her favorite students in this section of the class walked up to her instead of exiting with the rest. She was one of the only sophomores in the class and had been in another class of Mouse's last semester online. The young woman's work stood out amongst the rest and Mouse had hoped she would return to one of her classes in the future.

Mouse dropped her hand to her side and turned to face the student.

"Hi Dr. M-T," the young woman started. "I was wondering if there was any way that I could talk to you about getting involved in the gender, women's and sexuality studies department?"

"Of course, Liza," Mouse replied, smiling with closed lips and kind eyes. "What are you thinking about? Research, one of the extracurricular clubs, or a reading group?"

"Well, um, I was thinking about trying to get involved in your lab this semester, but I wasn't sure if I was allowed because I'm an undergrad."

This made Mouse smile a little wider, Liza reminded her so much of herself at that age. It was the influence of just one professor's support that made for Mouse to become the powerhouse of an academic that she was today.

"Typically, I don't let undergrads into my lab until they've taken a research methods course and we have had a meeting about their interests," Mouse said, watching as Liza's face fell just a little. "However, at the end of this semester, there is an opportunity for you to write a research proposal as your final grade. If you do well on the proposal, I would be more than happy to bring you on the research team as a junior member in the spring semester. In the meantime, send an email to our administrative assistant about getting into a reading group or two. That will get your feet wet in the department with other students."

Liza's face lit up with determination in a way that made Mouse wistful for her younger days, back when she was hell on wheels and determined to be the best student to ever pass through her program. She had since become much more relaxed, no longer feeling like she had anything to prove, but it was something she often longed for– that youthful resolve, the stars in her eyes.

"Thank you, Dr. M-T," Liza said as she turned to leave the classroom.

Mouse hummed in response and then turned to collect her things and head back to her office, the gentle pulsing of her headache still at the forefront of her mind. Even without the classroom full of rowdy kids on a Monday, Mouse hadn't stood a chance today. She had spent the entire night before replaying what happened on her couch. Her mind would flit from the way Kai's strong hands gripped her sides, to the taste of their lips, to the look in their eyes. In the dark of the night, Mouse couldn't stop herself from thinking about the what-ifs. What if Kai had deeper feelings, too? What if they gave this thing a go? What if it was everything they had ever dreamed of?

Not paying attention as her thoughts wandered around all things Kai, Mouse knocked her shoulder into the entryway of her department, flinging the stack of papers in her hands onto the floor.