Letters by Her [Book 2]

Chapter 15

Dusty fidgeted across from Miss Dunne as she watched her professor putter around her desk for a few moments, placing down the cup of coffee she was carrying and restoring some files to their respective drawers. "Do you know why you're here this morning?" Miss Dunne asked.

"Because I'm on academic probation?" Dusty asked, her voice small and mouse-like.

"Exactly." Miss Dunne took out a file that had Dusty's name typed at the top and sighed. "Your grades have been slowly declining," she noted as she reviewed the file, "along with your attendance, which really isn't good enough." She looked up at Dusty. "Most scholarships students grab the opportunity to study here with both hands and really embrace it. You've worked so hard to be here, Dusty, why would you risk throwing it all away?"

"I...I don't want to throw it away," Dusty mumbled a response. She felt miserable at being faced with the questions she had been trying desperately to hide from.

"Well, it doesn't look that way. It looks like you don't really want to be here. Your transcripts are poor, Dusty, really poor." Dusty lowered her head in shame. "Academic probation is a chance for students like yourself, who are sliding, to redeem themselves. If we don't see an improvement in your work, the next stage would be expulsion."

Dusty felt herself stiffen upon hearing the word. "It may seem dramatic, but this isn't high school anymore," Miss Dunne continued. "You are here to learn, not to mess around. At Princeton you get back as much as you put in." Squirming beneath the lecture, Dusty shifted in her seat.

She felt like a child, seven years old scolded by her mother for making a mess in the kitchen. She felt foolish, out of her depth, and didn't like how it felt. "You're lucky to have been given this second chance," Miss Dunne said, her unpolished nails drumming against the now closed file before her. "Most people wouldn't be afforded such an opportunity to redeem themselves. However, the school board was lenient because of your past history."

"You mean my dead father?" Dusty released the words the instant she thought them and immediately regretted it.

"Your personal circumstances are, of course, a factor." Miss Dunne nodded, though her face didn't soften with pity, which was the usual response Dusty had seen in her old teachers back at West. "But your circumstances are not exceptional. The world is a much bigger place than Woodbrook."

"West," Dusty corrected, but Miss Dunne didn't seem to hear her. "Here, there are many, many students with many problems of their own. The key to making it in this world is to learn to manage your problems, not to let them define you."

"I don't think my father's death defines me." Dusty shook her head.

"Doesn't it?" Miss Dunne asked, her voice open.

"I..." Dusty didn't know what to say. She felt so confident that all her troubles had been left back in West. When Dusty failed to answer, Miss Dunne stepped in for her. "You're out partying excessively, your attendance is poor, and your grades are barely passable. This sort of behavior, this inability to focus and commit to your studies, could be seen as a form of grieving, but given that your father died," Miss Dunne briefly glanced into the file for the desired information, "a number of years ago, I'd say you've long since spent the free pass it gave you for bad behavior."

Dusty was speechless; she'd never before been reprimanded for her conduct in the face of losing her father. She'd assumed that such a topic would forever be off-limits, just too awful to discuss. "Don't let it define you," Miss Dunne said. "Princeton will help mold you into the woman you will become. Let go of the child you once were and begin to think like an adult."

"I'll certainly do my best," Dusty managed to reply. "Do you need to talk to anyone about your grieving issues? We do have a college counselor on site." Miss Dunne was already seeking out the contact details to back up her offer.

"I'm...I don't need to talk to anyone." Dusty shook her head, but Miss Dunne was already writing down the number for the counselor and passing it across the desk to her. "If you need to talk to someone about your feelings, call them." Miss Dunne nodded at the piece of paper. "If you need to discuss your studies, come to me." "

Okay."

"I don't want to see you in here again under these circumstances. Do I make myself clear?" Miss Dunne asked curtly.

"Yes, crystal clear, Miss Dunne."

"Apply yourself, Dusty. Don't dwell on the past; look instead to the future."

"Okay, thanks." Dusty rose up out of her chair and made to leave the office.

"One more thing," Miss Dunne called, and Dusty turned back to face her, one hand lingering on the door handle, eager to escape. "Yes?" Dusty asked.

"Don't associate yourself with Ms.Aroura. She wouldn't be good for you."

Shocked by the warning, Dusty found herself blushing. "I only met her this morning," she explained, her words jumbling together. "And she was very rude. I've no intention of associating myself with her."

"Good, just keep it that way."

****

Flummoxed, Dusty opened the door and stepped back out into the corridor. She took a moment to clear her thoughts when she spotted Kyera looking up at her with renewed interest, her dark eyes sparkling seductively.

"That bad?" she asked.
"It was okay," Dusty tried to sound flippant but failed.

"Dunne just loves to cut the umbilical cord. Did she say how you're here to learn not to feel?"

"Pretty much," Dusty admitted.

"Well, now she's warmed up on you, she can go to town on me." Kyera sighed.

"Is she mean to you?" Dusty asked, her face wrinkling with concern.

"Most women tend to be," Kyera replied. Unimpressed by her bravado, Dusty turned to leave, but Kyera called her back. "Where you going?" she asked her.

"Back to my sorority house, so I can continue whoring myself out," Dusty replied sarcastically.

"How about you wait here for me instead?" Kyera countered.

"And why would I do that?" "Because I thought we could go grab a coffee or something." And in spite of Miss Dunne's warning, Dusty found herself feeling compelled to sit and wait for Kyera to endure her verbal thrashing, intrigued by her and keen to learn more about her.