better on paper. I’m not
saying that happens at Zeeman, just that it’s a general problem throughout the system
and in any city.”
“But it could be happening at Zeeman?”
“Sure. It’s possible but I really can’t say.”
I felt a chill and stuck my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt. I doubted the temperature
had changed.Another wave of exhaustion came over me. It seemed I’d been sitting on the bench,
struggling to remember things, to answer Virgil’s questions, for hours. Never mind
that probably less than fifteen minutes had passed.
“And Mayor Graves would be on which side of that?”
“Of what?”
“Would it be to his advantage to inflate the grades or not inflate the grades?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “Hard to say. It would depend on the rest of his agenda
for education.” I gave Virgil a pleading look. “Do you think we could continue this
tomorrow?”
“I know you’re tired and this is tough.” He patted my hand. “Just a little bit more,
Sophie, I promise. Can you give me your impression of where the mayor stood on this
issue of inflating the grades?”
I took a deep breath, trying for a second wind. “Not really. I try to stay out of
school politics when I’m not actually on the faculty.”
“I suppose there’s enough of that here.” Virgil swept his arm in a large arc, taking
in the Administration Building in front of us. “A lot of politics?”
“You said it,” I replied, thinking of the debate over whether we should have invited
the mayor to speak at commencement in the first place.
A flash of panic shot through me. “No, it couldn’t be.”
“You think of something?”
I regretted my outburst, but there was no going back. I had to tell Virgil about the
mayor’s being at the center of conflicting opinions among the faculty. I gave as casual
a description as I could, but Virgil wanted names.
“You seriously think someone on the Henley faculty would stab the mayor because he
or she didn’t get to choose who would be the graduation speaker?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised at the motives I’ve come across.”
“But he’s already given the speech, so what would be the point?” I asked, fully awake
now.
“As I said, you’d be surprised. I have to cover all bases, rule people out, Sophie.
You know that.”
“If we attacked someone every time we lost a vote at faculty senate meetings, you’d
be setting up camp here full-time.” Now I was heating up, defending my colleagues.
“You were on the losing side of that vote?”
I thought Virgil might be joking. Then I saw his serious expression in the light from
the floods on the Administration Building in front of us.
After a few stuttering sounds, I admitted, “I lost, yes, but it was no big deal.”
“Why didn’t you want the mayor to speak?”
“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want the mayor to speak. I wanted someone else to
speak. Some of us thought that an academic or a researcher would have been a more
appropriate keynoter at a baccalaureate ceremony.”
“Who was the other candidate?”
“It wasn’t that kind of vote, with one guy against another. Our speaker cancelled.
They’re scheduled way in advance. In fact, we’ll already be looking at candidates
for next year at our summer faculty meeting.”
If I’d been in a joking mood, I’d have asked Virgil if he wanted his name on the short
list of potential candidates.
“Who was the scheduled speaker?” he asked.
“Dr. Muriel James from Harvard Med was supposed to give the address, but she had to
have surgery last week, so we needed a replacement.”
“Besides you, who else was against the mayor?” Virgil flipped his notebook to a new
page and held his pen over the clean sheet. I imagined many a guilty person being
intimidated by the gesture. So was I. I cleared my throat.
“No one was
against
the mayor.” I thought I’d made thatclear, but apparently not.
saying that happens at Zeeman, just that it’s a general problem throughout the system
and in any city.”
“But it could be happening at Zeeman?”
“Sure. It’s possible but I really can’t say.”
I felt a chill and stuck my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt. I doubted the temperature
had changed.Another wave of exhaustion came over me. It seemed I’d been sitting on the bench,
struggling to remember things, to answer Virgil’s questions, for hours. Never mind
that probably less than fifteen minutes had passed.
“And Mayor Graves would be on which side of that?”
“Of what?”
“Would it be to his advantage to inflate the grades or not inflate the grades?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “Hard to say. It would depend on the rest of his agenda
for education.” I gave Virgil a pleading look. “Do you think we could continue this
tomorrow?”
“I know you’re tired and this is tough.” He patted my hand. “Just a little bit more,
Sophie, I promise. Can you give me your impression of where the mayor stood on this
issue of inflating the grades?”
I took a deep breath, trying for a second wind. “Not really. I try to stay out of
school politics when I’m not actually on the faculty.”
“I suppose there’s enough of that here.” Virgil swept his arm in a large arc, taking
in the Administration Building in front of us. “A lot of politics?”
“You said it,” I replied, thinking of the debate over whether we should have invited
the mayor to speak at commencement in the first place.
A flash of panic shot through me. “No, it couldn’t be.”
“You think of something?”
I regretted my outburst, but there was no going back. I had to tell Virgil about the
mayor’s being at the center of conflicting opinions among the faculty. I gave as casual
a description as I could, but Virgil wanted names.
“You seriously think someone on the Henley faculty would stab the mayor because he
or she didn’t get to choose who would be the graduation speaker?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised at the motives I’ve come across.”
“But he’s already given the speech, so what would be the point?” I asked, fully awake
now.
“As I said, you’d be surprised. I have to cover all bases, rule people out, Sophie.
You know that.”
“If we attacked someone every time we lost a vote at faculty senate meetings, you’d
be setting up camp here full-time.” Now I was heating up, defending my colleagues.
“You were on the losing side of that vote?”
I thought Virgil might be joking. Then I saw his serious expression in the light from
the floods on the Administration Building in front of us.
After a few stuttering sounds, I admitted, “I lost, yes, but it was no big deal.”
“Why didn’t you want the mayor to speak?”
“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want the mayor to speak. I wanted someone else to
speak. Some of us thought that an academic or a researcher would have been a more
appropriate keynoter at a baccalaureate ceremony.”
“Who was the other candidate?”
“It wasn’t that kind of vote, with one guy against another. Our speaker cancelled.
They’re scheduled way in advance. In fact, we’ll already be looking at candidates
for next year at our summer faculty meeting.”
If I’d been in a joking mood, I’d have asked Virgil if he wanted his name on the short
list of potential candidates.
“Who was the scheduled speaker?” he asked.
“Dr. Muriel James from Harvard Med was supposed to give the address, but she had to
have surgery last week, so we needed a replacement.”
“Besides you, who else was against the mayor?” Virgil flipped his notebook to a new
page and held his pen over the clean sheet. I imagined many a guilty person being
intimidated by the gesture. So was I. I cleared my throat.
“No one was
against
the mayor.” I thought I’d made thatclear, but apparently not.
Similar Books
