“I understand that, but that is my policy. It’s written in the syllabus.”
“You didn’t say it was a problem when I emailed you last week,” Liz cried in frustration.
“After reviewing the syllabus, you’ll see that a doctor’s note is required. I wasn’t aware last week when you emailed me that you wouldn’t have one when you returned. I’m sorry, Miss Dougherty. That is my policy. Is there anything else?” he said dismissively.
Liz’s jaw slackened. Since when was she an untrustworthy student? She had always made it a point to get to the professors, go to their office hours, and overall show that she worked very hard for her grades. This just seemed . . . out of the realm of possibility.
“No, thank you,” she finally answered. Polite to a fault.
She walked out of the classroom feeling heavier than she had before entering. She couldn’t even fathom the effect zeros would have on her grade for this class. She had kept her 4.0 GPA for four years straight; she couldn’t lose it her last semester!
Liz had a lunch break between editing and the advanced political journalism class with Dr. Mires. She walked out of the journalism building and started toward the Pit to eat before thinking better of it. Maybe being at the heart of campus surrounded by people reading about her wasn’t in her best interest.
She turned around and started walking toward Franklin Street to pick something quick up when she was stopped suddenly by a flash. She staggered back a step.
“Miss Dougherty, do you have a minute to speak with me?” a woman asked.
“Sorry. I’m in a hurry,” Liz said, trying to scurry past her.
“I’m Cynthia Redd with Raleigh News. I’d just like a minute of your time.”
Liz shook her head. It was her instinct to want to talk to the reporter, find out more about her, find out what the article was on, but she knew what this was about. This woman wanted information about Brady. Liz couldn’t provide that. “No comment,” Liz said.
Another flash followed and Liz noticed that Cynthia wasn’t alone. There were three other reporters waiting for her. “Miss Dougherty, Carl North with the Herald-Sun,” one said, talking about the Durham newspaper. “We’d love to talk to you about your affair with Congressman Maxwell.”
Liz didn’t stick around to see who else was there. She just shook her head and repeated herself. “No comment. I have no comment about anything.”
Then she turned and fled. The worst part was that she could hear the reporters following her. They probably thought that by tagging behind they could corner her and get her to speak. It gave Liz an entirely different perspective on the career that she loved so much.
Her name was called behind her and her stomach twisted. How could this be happening? She was in a relationship with a politician. That didn’t mean she needed to be tracked down at school!
Since it was the end of a class change, there were still enough people milling around that Liz could veer through them to try to evade her tail, but it also had the problem of making her look entirely ridiculous. If people didn’t already know who they were, having a swarm of press show up on campus and follow her around wasn’t helping anything. Without a second thought, she darted into the nearest building, wove around the bottom floor until she found a women’s restroom, and then closed and locked the stall door.
Her breath was coming out ragged and her hands were shaking. Holy shit! Her world had officially flipped on its head. Since when was she the person running away from reporters?
Liz fumbled in her purse for her cell phone and dialed Brady’s number without thinking. He answered on the third ring.
“Hey, baby,” he said pleasantly. “Do you think I could call you back? I’m on the line with D.C.”
“Reporters,” she gasped out. “Reporters on campus. Everywhere.”
“What?” he growled, his voice fierce.
She ran a trembling hand back through her hair and took a shuddering breath. “I had reporters waiting for me after my first class. Raleigh News, Herald-Sun, and at least two or three other papers that I didn’t get the names of.”
“Shit! I’ll get Heather on it now. She should have already handled this.” Liz was sure Heather was not going to like being on the end of Brady’s anger. “Where are you now? Did you say anything to them?”
“Of course not. I, of all people, should know how to handle reporters,” she said, as if she hadn’t frozen when she’d seen that they were tracking her. “I’m holed up in a bathroom on north campus. I just had to get away.”
Liz heard his deep inhalation. “I’m sending a car now. I’ll have the driver message you where to meet.”
“Brady, I still have class,” she said weakly, though she was suddenly in no mood to attend it.
“I think you should contact the professor and let him know that you won’t be able to make it. Staying on campus isn’t a good idea. We don’t know if other reporters intend to show up,” he told her. “Plus, I miss you.”
Liz smiled. The first good thing to happen to her today. His statement brought unexpected tears to her eyes and she blinked them away. She hadn’t realized quite how much stress she was carrying around with her until that statement.
“I miss you too. Sorry I’m keeping you from D.C.”
Brady chuckled lightly. She could almost see him shaking his head at her. “This is much more important than what I was dealing with. You are more important. I don’t want reporters showing up at school. You don’t need to deal with that on top of classes and the paper and everything else.”
“Well . . . I guess I don’t have to deal with the paper anymore,” she said, choking on the words. “They requested I take a temporary leave of absence after I showed up on the front page.”
“Liz, I’m sorry,” he said gently.
He had to know that she was sacrificing all of this for him. It was why she had been hesitant about going public after Hayden and Calleigh’s article broke. She knew how much this would affect her life. She just hadn’t quite foreseen how bad it would be.
“They’re losing a great asset to their team. I truly believe it is a misguided decision on their part. But remember that they are just college students.”
“I’m just a college student,” Liz said defensively.
“You are so much more than that. You always have been. They might not see the error in letting you go now, but they will. In the long run, it’s probably better for you anyway. You don’t need anyone holding you back.”