Quad wildlife alert. He hit post. Then he turned the phone around so Bryce could see the screen. Bryce read it, and the corner of his mouth pulled up a little further. Good one, he said.
Marlon pushed through the doors of the administrative building and let the heavy glass close behind him. The lobby was cool and quiet. Fluorescent lights. Bulletin boards covered in flyers. A student worker at the front desk with headphones around his neck.
Normal. Ordinary. Safe. He stood there for just a moment, letting the tightness in his chest settle. He had not reacted.
He had not given them what they wanted. He had made the right call. He straightened his jacket, shifted the folder under his arm, and walked toward the reception desk. He still had no idea that by the time he reached the front of that line, the clip already had 47 likes and was climbing fast. The reception desk for the Dean of Students office was staffed by a woman named Linda Pruitt.
Mid-40s, reading glasses on a beaded chain, a coffee mug that said "World's Okayest Administrator" sitting next to her keyboard. She looked like someone who had delivered bad news so many times it had stopped feeling like bad news to her. Marlon approached the desk and gave his name. "I need to speak with Dean Willix," he said. "There's a hold on my records.
I graduated in May. Marlon Walter, mechanical engineering. I've never had a conduct issue in 4 years, so I'm thinking this is probably a clerical error." Linda typed, looked at her screen, typed again. "Dean Willix is unavailable until Thursday," she said. Marlon blinked.
"Today is Tuesday." "Yes." "I drove 2 hours to be here today." Linda looked up at him over her glasses with the expression of a woman who had heard that sentence, or some version of it, approximately 400 times. "I understand, but he's in back-to-back meetings through tomorrow. Thursday is the earliest I can schedule you." Marlon breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. "Can you at least tell me what the hold is for? What conduct matter?" Linda turned back to her screen, clicked something, and the small line that appeared between her eyebrows told Marlon the answer before her mouth did.
"It shows here as a complaint filed last spring," she said carefully. "From the office of student conduct. It's listed as" She He "an anonymous complaint alleging a pattern of intimidation. The words landed like stones dropped into still water. Anonymous.
Pattern of intimidation. Marlon stood at that counter and kept his face completely neutral, which was one of the hardest things he'd done all day. Who filed it? The policy permits anonymous complaints, Linda said. The filer's identity is protected.
What specifically am I accused of? What incident? What dates? Linda looked at her screen again. Looked longer this time, like she was hoping something more specific would appear if she stared hard enough.