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“Yeah, seems so. Something to do with their long term plans.”
I log us in, dial the phone number listed, and hear a series of beeps as others join the call. The large screen shows an office and Professor Grant staring into the screen. A small box pops up on the lower right corner, which captures Quinn and I from my computer cam. A few minutes pass, and finally, Professor Grant turns on his sound.
“Hello all. Thanks so much for joining me this morning. Usually, we’d have a meeting on campus, but since most of you are home for a small break before summer semester, this was the best option. I can see each of you, but you can only see me. If you have a question, press star-eight, and you will be live.
“Let me recap the email sent out last week. Obviously, if you are on this call, you have been accepted to the School of Journalism Summer Expo. Each year, the school recognizes talented individuals in all areas of journalism and communication. These students are vetted through an application process and invited on a five to six week expedition.
“Our goal is multi-fold. First, the University wants to foster the talent and a
cademics for your long-term success. We have relationships with some of the most highly acclaimed news networks and magazines in the country who support this effort. Secondly, this is an opportunity to bring awareness to certain social and cultural issues around the globe. The school takes this job very seriously and is grateful for your commitment, so thank you.”
He pauses and then smiles widely on the screen, changing his entire persona. “Now that the standard bullshit is out of the way, let me tell you all congratulations! I’m honored to work with this crew of young talent. Each year, the professors assigned brag they have the best group, but I’ve already told my peers that YOU are the best group to have under my guidance.”
His excitement is contagious, and there are a few star-eights pressed, followed by a chorus of ‘hell yeah’ and ‘damn straight’. He smiles and waits for the chatter to die down. When it gets quiet, I swear his eyes are on Quinn and me when he speaks.
“Since the original email went out, there have been some major and significant changes. Valid concerns were presented to the University President, the Dean of our School, and myself. We listened and took into account what was being said. In the end, and for the safety of our group, we will no longer be traveling to Israel.”
My heart falls to my stomach and then begins racing. Quinn shifts so fast the computer slides to the side, and I clumsily catch it before it hits the ground. It takes a few seconds for the both of us to get settled. When we do, Professor Grant is looking directly at us.
“Miss Harris, Miss Jackson, is there a problem?” His lip slants upward, twitching.
“Star-eight his ass and answer him,” Quinn hisses.
“You star-eight him. I don’t want to.”
She hands me the phone, and I swat her hand away. She squeaks loudly, trying to press the buttons.
“Ladies, I can see you.” Professor Grant is laughing at us now. “If you’re ready, I’ll continue.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I watch Quinn bite her lip, trying not to smile. We both nod.
“With full disclosure, I’ll explain why we changed our minds. Within thirty- six hours of announcing our location, we received mounds of calls expressing concern. Most of your parents called, emailed, or in some cases, made personal visits to our offices. The arguments were compelling, to say the least.”
Quinn grasps my hand, and we communicate without words. This was us. Somehow, someway, our families orchestrated this sabotage. It probably wasn’t hard if the other parents were as upset as ours. But how the hell did they pull this off? There are sixteen people in our group. How did they get the names?
Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, and my blood runs hot. No wonder Bryce was so calm about the whole thing, and my parents nonchalantly mentioned me being gone this summer.
The eruption of massive proportions from everyone never came because they all knew. We weren’t going to Israel— they made sure of it.
“We shared this with our sponsors, and the decision was made to change our location. Lucky for us, there was a project readily available that would support our numbers.”
I ball my fists and beat lightly on my knees. Quinn’s eyes are wide as she looks back and forth between me and the screen.
“I’m going to kill them. Could this be more humiliating? Everyone has to know it was us,” I snip to Quinn, and she nods, giving me a nasty glare.
“Where should we start?” she asks under her breath.
“I’m assuming my pushy, overprotective fiancé. He’s probably the one who spear-headed this. He’s the only one who knew, outside of me and you, until we told our families.”
“I see irritation and uncertainty crossing some of your faces. Let me assure you, this was the best decision with the current unrest in certain parts of the country. We were already questioning backing out, and that’s why it was so easy to change our course.” Once again, he’s looking straight at us.
That damn star-eight beeps, and voices fill the line.
“Come on, Professor G. Don’t keep us hanging.”
“The suspense is killing me. Spill it.”
“Where the hell are we going?”
