Chapter 3

The community college placement exam was straightforward.

As I turned in my test, the proctor looked at me for a second longer than necessary.

"What do you do? You don't look like a recent grad."

"I've been at home," I said.

A brief flicker of understanding crossed her face. She'd pegged me as a housewife.

Three days later, the results came out. I'd passed.

On enrollment day, I wore a plain tshirt and jeans, carried a canvas backpack. Most of my classmates were in their twenties and thirties working adults coming back to upgrade their credentials. No one paid me any attention.

The program coordinator was a young teaching assistant. After handing out the syllabi, he said:

"Even though this is an evening program, the university holds us to full academic standards. You need the required credit hours, and assignments and exams are nonnegotiable."

He raised his voice: "And don't even think about coasting through. This department does not play around with academic standards. Fail enough courses and you'll be out."

A few groans from the back.

After class, I walked over to the main campus library. My new student ID worked for everything.

I found the core accounting textbooks a thick stack and carried them to a seat in the corner.

I'd barely sat down when I heard familiar laughter.

Across the reading room, by the window, Derek and Sienna were sitting together.

She was leaning into him, practically pressed against his arm, pointing at something in an open book. He was tilted toward her, a small smile on his face.

Two cups of coffee sat on the table in front of them. Same cups, different colored straws.

Matching set.

I lowered my head and opened “Introduction to Financial Accounting. Chapter One: Cash and Cash Equivalents.”

My phone buzzed. A text from Derek: “Department dinner tonight. Don't wait up.”

I typed back: “OK. Don't drink too much.”

Then I raised my phone, zoomed in on the window seats across the room, and took a photo.

Three shots in a row.

Sienna fed Derek a piece of fruit from her cup. He ate it.

I saved the photos to the “Evidence” folder.

Life settled into a rhythm.

Tuesday and Thursday evenings. All day Saturday. Classes.

Everything else: the library, selfstudy, auditing open lectures from the accounting department.

There was a woman in my cohort named Mia. She worked as an assistant at an accounting firm. When she noticed how hard I was studying, she offered to lend me her practical training notes.

"Are you doing this to find a job?" she asked.

"Yeah. I want to be an accountant."

"Then you'll need to sit for the CPA exam. But you need a bachelor's degree to register."

"I know." I smiled. "I'll get the degree first."

Mia pointed me toward online courses and study guides. I bought all of them.

I pulled the money from the household budget. Derek gave me three thousand dollars a month for "household expenses." I logged it in the notebook under: “Education personal development.”

He never noticed.

He was getting busier. Home two, maybe three nights a week, always talking about preparing materials for the review, "building relationships" with the evaluation committee.

One night he came in well past midnight, and there was perfume on his jacket. Not mine.

I spoke into the dark.

"Derek. The review hearing it's on the fifteenth, next month, right?"

He tensed. "How do you know that?"

"You mentioned it once." I paused. "Which room is it in?"

"Conference Room A in the admin building. Why?"

"I thought I might come watch. I've never seen you present before."

He made a short, dismissive sound.

"You wouldn't follow any of it. It's all technical content. They'll be streaming it live on the university site. Just watch it from home."

"Oh. Okay."

A beat of silence. Then his voice softened, already getting drowsy.

"Once the promotion goes through, the package gets a lot better. We'll go somewhere in Europe. And I'll get you a decent bag." He was almost asleep. "You should have some nice things..."

His breathing evened out.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Then I reached under my pillow for my phone and opened the calendar.

“November 15. Hearing.”

Twentythree days away.

I got up quietly, went to the living room, and opened the laptop.

“The Cost of Building a Professor” was already at Chapter Five: “Invisible Labor and Social Capital Management.”

I created a new chapter: “Academic Ethics and Personal Character: An Analysis of Their Relationship.”

I started typing.

“"The criteria for the Professor rank explicitly includes evaluation of professional ethics and conduct."“

“"The following constitutes partial evidence of Professor Derek Collins's inappropriate conduct with female students over the past several years..."“

I inserted the photos. The office. The library. Last week's shot of Derek's car Sienna in the passenger seat.

Photo timestamps: June through October, 2023.

“"Furthermore, Professor Collins has on multiple occasions described his legal spouse, Sarah Collins, as a 'distant relative' in public settings, suggesting deliberate concealment of his marital status for reasons that remain unclear..."“

I logged into the campus forum under my anonymous account three months old, levelthree status, enough to send private messages.

I found a user called “Academic Tea Spillers.”

They ran an anonymous tip account faculty drama, departmental scandals, the kind of thing people whispered about but never said out loud.

I sent a message: “I have significant material on Professor Derek Collins. Financial misconduct, inappropriate relationships, ethics violations. Timed for before his review. Interested in collaborating?”

Ten minutes later: “Do you have proof?”

I sent a blurred photo Derek and Sienna, silhouettes in his car.

“More available in person. I need you to guarantee the post goes live at exactly 10 a.m. on November 15th.”

“Why that time?”

“That's when his tenure hearing starts.”

Silence for a few minutes.

“Deal. How do we stay in touch?”

I gave them a second phone number.

“Pleasure doing business.”

By the time I finished, it was almost dawn.

I shut the laptop and went back to bed.

Derek was sound asleep, face relaxed, the faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth.

Probably dreaming about his promotion.

I closed my eyes.

Twentythree days.

The countdown had started.