Sophomore Switch(54)
Author: Abby McDonald

Alone.

Even with all the drama since the board meeting, I still haven’t forgotten the real reason any of this matters, so after I print my paper and leave it in Professor Elliot’s mail cubby the next morning, I head over to the cold stone buildings that house the Oxford admin staff. A stuck-up secretary won’t let me near any of the board without an appointment, so I wait an hour in the dreary gray lobby until one of them comes by.

“Excuse me.” I leap up the minute I see a familiar face exit one of the offices. It’s one of the librarian-type women, wearing the same baggy cardigan from the meeting, or one exactly like it. I don’t pause on why someone would buy one, let alone two, of those ugly things and race after her. “Do you have a minute? I really need to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry.” She barely looks at me. “I’m terribly busy.”

“But this won’t take long.” I plant myself in front of her. “Please.”

Her eyebrows lift, and I can tell she recognizes me. Those thin lips purse even more.

“Please,” I say again, pouring everything into that one word, and something must have slipped past that iron shell around her heart, because she finally relents.

“Well, all right. But just a minute.”

“Thank you!” I follow her eagerly back to her office. It’s as drab as she is, with worn green carpet and faded watercolors. There are a couple of fancy diplomas on the wall, and I snatch a quick glance as I pass to catch her name. Dr. Alison Aldridge.

“Take a seat.” Dr. Aldridge gestures at a hard, tall-backed seat. I obediently take it. “So, Natasha.” She finds a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and puts them on, looking at me over the top of the rims. “What can I do for you?”

“Umm.” I’m suddenly nervous. Going face-to-face with someone from the board seemed like a good idea back in my dorm room, but now that I’m here, it’s pretty daunting. “I was wondering what you’re planning to do, about the health center.”

“The board will announce their decision shortly.” Dr. Aldridge folds her hands primly.

“I know,” I apologize. “I just had to come and make sure . . .” I gulp, my mouth dry. “I don’t want what happened to make a difference to our case.”

“What happened?” She arches her eyebrows again, like a challenge, and I realize I can’t dance around the issue anymore.

“With me.” I take a deep breath, looking at her dead-on. “The video and the newspaper story. I need to know it won’t affect your decision. Because it shouldn’t.” I lean forward, stressing every word. “Everything in our presentation was true: the girls here need that center. It’s a matter of principle.” Her lips twitch, so I sigh. “I know, right? You’re probably thinking I don’t know the first thing about principles, and that’s OK. But what you all don’t seem to get is this is the real world. The girls here are in college, they’re legal, they’re going to have sex, they’re going to get raped. And closing the health center isn’t going to change that — it’s just going to take away the resources they need to deal with it all.”

I let out a breath and stand. “That’s all I had to say. Thanks for the time, I guess.”

I’m halfway to the door when I hear her clipped voice behind me. “We’ll keep funding it.”

“What?” I turn back.

“The center. Tomorrow we’ll announce a continuation in funding.” Dr. Aldridge nods slightly. “I appreciate your coming to see me.” She pauses. “It seems Professor Elliot was wrong about you.”

“Elliot?” I repeat.

A smile is playing on the edge of her lips. “She talked to me, you know. After the meeting. Urged me not to let the actions of a . . . well, we don’t need to go into that,” she corrects herself. “But I see now she misjudged you.”

There’s another pause, and I wonder just what Elliot said about me.

“I was one of the first, you know,” Dr. Aldridge adds.

I look at her blankly.

“The first women at Oxford to be admitted to the real colleges.” Her eyes take on a new glint. “Oh, they let us in before, but only if we kept to the new women’s schools. They all said it would be the end of the institution, that girls didn’t have the character or intelligence for the rigors of a male education.” Her lips twist into what I swear is a smirk. “I suppose we proved them wrong.”

“We?” I repeat slowly.

“You’re on a semester abroad, undergraduate, I think it was?” I nod. Dr. Aldridge opens a drawer. “Perhaps you’ll consider coming back to us. We run summer programs and even master’s degrees. I don’t do a lot of teaching anymore, but I’m sure I could find time to supervise you.”

Mouth open, I walk back to the desk and take the papers she holds, outstretched. “Something to do with feminism and the media, maybe.” And then she winks at me, so fast I think I’m imagining it.

“I . . . Thank you,” I breathe, clutching the sheets. She nods again, curtly, and stands.

“Now, I really do have other appointments.”

And just like that, it’s over.

I spend the rest of the day packing in a daze. The health center is safe, and I have a maybe-invitation to do a master’s. At Oxford. The ideas dance around my head like some kind of promise, and it’s nearly time to meet Holly for a good-bye drink in the bar when I realize I have one more stop I have to make before I can be done here.

Light from Professor Elliot’s study filters under the door into the cloisters, so after a quick knock, I walk in. She’s at her desk with a stack of papers, and her whole face tightens when I walk in.

“You missed our tutorial,” she says with this icy voice.

“I know,” I reply, calm. She may not think I’m worth anything, but I know now she’s not the only one who matters. “I figured I could miss another attack on me and my terrible morals.”

Her eyes narrow. “So what can I do for you?” Her tone is like the least helpful thing ever.

“I came to collect my paper.”

“Oh, yes.” Lifting a folder from the edge of the desk, she holds it between her finger and thumb like it’s contagious. “It was certainly an interesting perspective, but hardly up to Oxford standards.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes.