Page 3 of Volik

I grimace at the noise, but Jenny doesn’t react as she pulls a sheet from the printer along the back wall.

Forcing my body to still, I try to discreetly exhale a calming breath.

The admin building I’m currently standing in is old. And this small office feels even smaller with the tall counter dividing the room, left to right. But since it’s only the two of us in here, it doesn’t feel crowded.

I’m not a short woman, but the counter still comes up to about chest height. The wood top gleams like the floors and boasts a bottle of green hand sanitizer, a chipped mug filled with branded university pens, and a striped bowl filled with… condoms.

Attached to the other side of the high counter is a normal height desk, cluttered with paperwork and trinkets, suggesting the user is a longtime employee.

“Okay, here we go.” Jenny waves the paper as she rolls her chair back toward me. “This here is a map of the campus.” She has to stand to reach over her desk. Then she slaps the sheet down on the counter.

She sees me trying and failing to ignore the bowl of contraceptives and grins. “We’re here to ruin lives with debt, not babies.”

I snort at her bluntness. “I mean… fair.”

“Right?” She lifts her brows. “Okay.” Jenny grabs a red marker off her desk and draws a circle on the map. “You’re gonna be here, in Bates Hall, with the other journalism and mass communication classes. And your room is lecture hall 3B. It’s on the first floor. And if you go in through the main doors here.” She draws an X at the front of the building, along with the room number. “It’ll be about halfway down on your right.”

“Awesome, thank you.” I lean closer to study the surprisingly detailed map.

“No problem.” Jenny drops back into her chair.

It’s been one week since I accepted the job offer from Stalden University, and every day since I’ve spent time memorizing the layout of campus. Because anxiety. And after moving into my new apartment on Saturday, I spent yesterday wandering around campus, familiarizing myself with the paths between buildings. So even though I’m still nervous about tomorrow, I feel mostly confident about finding my way around.

Jenny’s nails click against her keyboard. “Do you know if your email is working properly?”

“It is.” I nod. “I sent myself a test email this morning, and it went through.”

“Good, good.” She rolls a few feet to the side and pulls open a drawer. “This is yours to keep while you’re employed here.” She rolls back and reaches up to drop a single key onto the counter. “There isn’t a separate office attached to the room, but you’re the only one teaching in that lecture hall this semester, so feel free to set up the desk however you like. Just don’t forget to lock up after yourself. If the kids steal your stuff, the university isn’t liable, blah, blah, blah.”

I slide the key into my palm, then slip it into my pocket. “Noted.”

“We don’t have the class schedule for next semester yet, so you might have to share then. But we’ll sort out the schedules a couple weeks ahead of time, so no need to think about that yet.”

“Oh, um, I’m only covering until winter break.”

“As of now.” She shrugs. “But if Professor Drain doesn’t come back, they’ll probably ask to extend your contract.” Jenny laughs at my skeptical look. “I’ve seen subs stay for literal years. It’s lazy, but it’s easier for the university to renew short-term contracts than it is to hire someone new. And they pay you guys way less than the full-time professors. So…” She shrugs again.

Technically speaking, with my bachelor’s degree in journalism and seven years of experience, I’m not qualified to be a full-time professor here. So, without a master’s or doctorate, an extended substitute position would be the only way for me to stay long-term.

Teaching was never really on my radar for career choices, since I enjoyed the variety of freelance life. But I happened to run into my chatty neighbor right after she got off the phone with her daughter, who had called to tell her about her friend who, just an hour earlier, witnessed her journalism professor break her leg outside a grocery store in Hemlock Hills.

She was just telling me because she tells everyone everything, but journalism professor stuck in my head.

So, the next day, I looked up the town name and found the website for Stalden University. A cute state school, whose name I recognized, located in a small town in Michigan.

Then, with fingers that hardly felt like my own, I called the number for the main office and asked if there were any journalism openings.

It must’ve been kismet, or fate, or just good old-fashioned luck, because two phone calls and two days later, they offered me the job.

I had to pay a penalty for cutting my lease early back East, but being here feels… right.

And even though I haven’t taught my first class yet, I want to stay.

“You really think Drain won’t come back?” I try to keep the hope out of my voice.

Jenny huffs. “That cranky old lady has been talking about retiring for years. I’d be more surprised if she did come back. My guess is she’ll let the short-term disability play through while her leg heals, then announce her retirement. It’s what I would do.”

Excitement bubbles in my chest. “I won’t lie, that would be⁠—”