My Professor's Secret

20

twenty

Going home that night didn't provide the sense of release I'd been chasing the moment I walked out of Professor Thornton's office. If anything, it made everything worse.

Taylor was already pacing by the time I shut the door behind me.

"You still have it?"

I shrugged off my coat, avoiding her eyes as I dropped my bag beside my bed. "Where else would it be?"

"With someone who plans on actually doing something about it," she shot back.

There it was. Round two. I exhaled, already tired of a conversation we never really finished. "We already talked about this, Tay." I unzipped my bag, pulled out the envelope, and dropped it on my bed.

"No, we didn't," she said, stepping closer to my desk, her eyes flicking to the letter before landing back on me. "You shut it down. That's not the same thing. We need to turn it in."

I picked the envelope up from the bed, pulling out the letter. My fingers brushed the edge of the paper, grounding myself in something solid. "I shut it down because taking it to the Dean isn't going to fix this."

"No," she cut me off, spinning to face me. "Don't even start with that hesitant tone. This is exactly what she wants. For us to sit here and do nothing. She threatened you. She broke into our room."

My eyes flickered to the paper again. Rachel's words felt heavier now.

"It's not that simple."

"It is that simple, Alex," she snapped. "She stole from us. She's a bully. What more do you need?"

"She knows something," I cut in, sharper than I meant to.

Taylor stilled. Her brows pulled together slightly. "Then tell me what it is."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

"That's what I thought," she muttered, turning away from me with a frustrated breath. "So we're just supposed to sit here and let her keep doing whatever she wants?"

"She's already doing whatever she wants," I said quietly. "Going to the Dean doesn't stop that—it just makes everything else worse." I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers into my temples. "What happens when this doesn't just fall back on her?"

Taylor's expression faltered.

"That's not—"

"You know it is," I said, quieter now. "Whatever she claims to know about us will be public knowledge and I am not okay with that."

The room fell into a tense silence. Rachel didn't just have leverage. She had something neither of us could bring ourselves to say out loud.

Taylor broke first—turning away, running a hand through her hair before letting out a frustrated breath. "So what then? We just continue to watch our stuff disappear and allow her to treat you anyway she wants?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I reached for my coat pocket, pulling out the yellow ribbon-wrapped box with my necklace that Trevor had gotten fixed for me. I ran my finger along the typewriter pendant, leading up to the mended chain.

I caught Taylor's eyes as she glanced at the box in my hand. A part of me wanted to question why the box had been wrapped in yellow—my favorite color. Either way, I didn't mention it.

"She already took this once," I said, walking it over to Taylor before turning around and pulling all my hair to either side of my shoulders. "We need to figure out what else she took from us. Make a list. Proof?"