Chapter 305

After walking across the campus to the Kensington Building, I found Dr. Clark’s office on the second floor. The door was open, so I knocked on the frame.

“Come in,” Dr. Clark called out, although I couldn’t see her.

I stepped inside and looked around the room at the personal touches and mementos my Ethics professor kept in her office. Photos of children and humorous knickknacks covered the shelves near her desk.

A worn couch and chair were in front of the desk. A knitting basket embroidered with smiling cats sat on one end of the sofa. But I still didn’t see Dr. Clark.

Suddenly, she popped up from the floor on the other side of the desk. The designer dress she wore to teach her class had been replaced with jeans and a sweatshirt.

“You’re Daisy Wilson, aren’t you?” she asked as she bent over and picked up a cushion from the floor.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

She put the cushion on top of a filing cabinet. “I’ve been told to keep an eye on you and report any agitating speech. The college administration thinks you’re a troublemaker.”

I didn’t realize how closely I was being watched. It was a mistake to think there was anyone on campus I could talk to about it.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted you, Dr. Clark.” I started to leave her office.

“You didn’t interrupt me. I was only meditating,” she told me. “And I was finished. Please come in and sit down.” She closed her office door and sat next to the knitting bag.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to get into trouble or get you into trouble.”

“I promise you won’t be in trouble for telling me what’s on your mind.” Dr. Clark took out yarn and needles from the bag and began to knit. “And I’m not concerned about getting in trouble.”

She winked. “I have tenure and do as I please. Sit and tell me what you came here to talk about.”

Relief flooded me. Coming to talk to Dr. Clark was the right thing to do.

I sat on the chair opposite her. “I was called into the Provost’s office today before your class. Someone reported me for asking why the student body is over ninety-nine percent Alpha.”

“I’ve always thought this university would benefit from being more diverse,” Dr. Clark said. “But the admissions department doesn’t agree with me.”

“It’s not just Frampton U,” I said. “Discrimination is rampant in the admissions departments of most colleges, especially the more prestigious schools.”

“Why would that be?” she asked. It was how she taught, leading me to the correct conclusion. It was more effective than telling me the answers.

“A less educated workforce is easier to control,” I said. “They believe whatever they are told to believe. And it starts in high school. Only Alphas are steered toward higher education and critical thinking is completely discouraged.”

She nodded. “What can you do about it?”

“I want to do a full investigation and write a report,” I said. “The public needs to know. And with enough public outcry, the laws can be changed.”

She started another row of her knitting. “I agree with you, but why did you come to me?”

“I found myself pretending to agree with the Provost,” I said. “My conscience bothers me because I’m agreeing with things that are against my beliefs, so I don’t get expelled.”

“Would it be easier for you to investigate while attending classes here?” she asked.

“I think it would be,” I replied. “But I have wanted to attend a school like Frampton U for a long time. I don’t want to be expelled now.”

“That’s completely understandable,” she said. “But tell me, Daisy, what’s really bothering you today?”

“I told the girls who turned me in that Provost Shires was nice,” I replied.

Dr. Clark’s eyes went wide before she burst into laughter. “My, you do want to stay enrolled here.” She began to laugh harder.

Her laughter was contagious, and I began to laugh along with her. We were soon holding our stomachs and had tears running down our faces.

It took a long minute for us to stop.

“Provost Shires …nice,” Dr. Clark giggled. “I’ve never heard those words used to describe her. You must want to stay at Frampton U badly.”

“Yes, I do,” I replied. “I want a good education that will help me in the future.”

“But you feel the need to uncover the corruption in our educational system,” she said. “Why? You’re an Alpha of the highest order. The discrimination doesn’t affect you.”

“No, it worked to my advantage,” I said. “I know a Beta and a hybrid who belong here more than I do, yet they were rejected.”

She looked at me over her knitting. “Why do you feel they belong here more than you?”

“They got better grades, and the Beta was my class valedictorian,” I explained. “But the only college that would take them was Denhurst College. It’s not fair.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Dr. Clark said. “And I commend your scrupulous honesty. A good reporter gives the public the facts, without spin or their opinion.”

Dr. Clark put her knitting in her lap. “But to uncover the facts that the public needs to know, you must be able to gather information from hostile sources.”

“With deceit,” I sighed.

“Daisy, criminals and those involved in things that are wrong will not admit what they are doing to a reporter,” Dr. Clark stated. “An investigative reporter must sometimes find the truth in creative ways.”

“So it’s necessary to lie and put on an act to break a story,” I concluded.

“Unless you want to write a society column or obituaries,” Dr. Clark said. “I think you must continue to play along with this administration and not jeopardize your own education.”

“Someone like you could do a lot of good as a journalist,” she added. “Don’t throw away your place at Frampton University unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

I mulled over her words for a moment.

“Beta and Omega lives and futures depend on this story. Change won’t happen without a spotlight being shone on the problem. I’ll do whatever I must to stay.”

“That’s an excellent decision.” Dr. Clark smiled. “Have you heard of Shane Ross?”

“The freelance investigative reporter?” I asked.

“Yes.” Dr. Clark picked up her knitting again. “Shane’s story on the business tax cover-up helped lower prices for the masses. He was my student.”

I was impressed. At twenty-one years of age, Shane Ross was the most famous reporter of my generation.

“I’d love to meet him,” I said.

“We are still in contact,” she said. “I will introduce you to him. He can give you tips on how to get a report into newspapers if you research and write one that's good enough.”

“That would be wonderful,” I said. “And I promise you will be among the first to read it.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asked.

“I need a way to get into the college’s computers,” I said. “I need more data on the student body, past and present.”

“I can help you with that,” Dr. Clark stood and went behind her desk.

She pulled a laptop from a messenger bag and booted it up. “I keep student statistics on my personal computer. What’s your email address? I’ll send them to you.”

“That would be great,” I said.

She sent me the files, and I stood to leave. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Clark.”

“You’re very welcome, Daisy,” she said. “You’re the kind of student I rarely see. You think for yourself and care about others. It’s refreshing.”

She walked me to the door. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. Please feel free to use my personal email to contact me.”

I thanked her again and left her office.

As I walked out of the building, I was startled to find Iris and another girl on the steps.

“Hi,” I said.

They ignored me. But after I was off the stairs and on my way up the sidewalk, I heard them hiss, “traitor and Beta-lover.”

I acted like I didn’t hear them and kept walking. I was tired and hungry, and I missed my fiancé. Plus, I had a lot to think about.

The student lot was only half as full as it had been when I arrived that morning. But I didn’t see the piece of paper underneath one of my car’s windshield wipers until I was unlocking the doors.

It didn’t look like a ticket. Maybe it was an advertisement for a dance or a sporting event.

I pulled it free and climbed into the car.

After starting the car’s engine, I unfolded the paper. The words on that paper had me locking my car doors before I hurried out of the lot.