Spring had arrived early this year. Cassie tugged at her skirt, which threatened to blow up and expose her to the other students on campus. This was only her second semester here, and she had tried her hardest to remain as invisible as possible. If there was anything Cassie wanted to avoid, it was being noticed.
The green expanse of lawn was interrupted only by clusters of daffodils around the big old oaks that towered over the campus, like pillars of knowledge. These trees had been here for over a hundred years, and she didn't doubt they'd still be here long after she was dead and gone. Things at Pendleton College seldom changed. It had only been in the past five years that boys had been allowed to attend Pendleton. The dress code was still strictly enforced – plaid skirts for young ladies, navy pants for young men and white collared shirts for both. The young men were expected to wear navy ties as well. It wasn't much different from the Catholic girls' school she had attended back home, so she didn't mind as much as some of the girls seemed to.
Pendleton Academy had been founded by Henry Pendleton in 1885 as an alternative to the finishing schools that had become so popular. As the population of St. Louis had grown, so had the upper class, and families of means were looking for somewhere to send their daughters for additional education beyond fine needlework, painting, and the art of conversation. To marry well, these daughters of society needed to be more educated than before, so as not to be seen as simple Midwest farm girls. They needed to appear as though they would easily fit into the social circles of New York, Charleston, and Boston. And so, Henry Pendleton founded Pendleton Academy a two days' journey outside of St. Louis and aimed to do just that. It also quickly had gained a reputation for managing and taming some of the more free-spirited girls and teaching them their proper place. The name had changed to Pendleton College sometime in the' 60s, but the philosophy remained the same.
Today, Cassie was on her way to see her advisor. She had only met him twice, and the encounters had left her wondering if she should request a new advisor. His name was Grant Winters, and he was a direct descendant of the Pendleton family. He also taught several upper-level English courses. In their last meeting, he had asked her to bring in progress reports from her professors so they could discuss her progress and whether any adjustments needed to be made this semester to her course load. She was really struggling with her Comp II class and hoped that Professor Winters would be able to offer her some advice.
Cassie walked up the steep stone steps leading to Cane Hall and pulled open the heavy oak door. Professor Winters' office was on the third floor, and of course there were no elevators in this building, the oldest on campus. The Board of Directors maintained that stairs were good for exercise, and to build elevators in these historic buildings would harm their historic value. As she rounded the stairs to the third floor, she checked her watch. She was five minutes early, which was good. Professor Winters did not like to be kept waiting.
There was a waiting area outside his office, which happened to be the only office on the third floor. Cassie perched nervously on a brown leather couch that had seen better days. The door to Professor Winters' office was closed, and she could hear faint voices from inside. He must be with another of his advisees, she assumed as she fiddled with her backpack strap. Professor Winters made her nervous. She had seen more than one girl leave his office with tear-stained cheeks, and he was rumored to be very hard on his advisees.
The door opened, and a blonde girl walked out. Cassie had seen her on campus before, and was pretty sure she lived in the same dorm. Her cheeks were red and it looked like she had been crying. The girl slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned as Professor Winters called out, "I'll see you next week, Miss Campbell. Same time, please." She nodded and hurried toward the stairs.
Professor Winters appeared in the office doorway. His broad shoulders filled the small space, and he had to be at least 6'3" tall. He didn't exactly look like your typical English professor. He looked more like a football player than the published author and revered – and tenured – professor he was.
"Miss Hemmingway, I'll see you now." Cassie's heart was racing as she got up and followed him into his office. He closed the door behind her and she heard the lock click. He had explained to her the first time they met that he always locked his door as a matter of habit, preferring to control interruptions as much as possible, and a closed door did not mean privacy was respected.
""Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing toward the straight-backed wooden chair in front of her. He walked around the desk and eased himself into a very nice leather chair, the kind she had seen in the movies, and which usually were used by very important and well-to-do men. "Do you have your progress reports for me to review?"
Cassie pulled out a folder containing her progress reports. Aside from her Comp II class, she felt pretty good about her classes this semester. Granted, this was only 6 weeks in, but still... She couldn't read Professor Winters' expression as he skimmed over the reports from her teachers. Cassie had, of course, looked at them, and didn't see anything to be concerned about. On the other hand, Cassie was acutely aware that she was here on a scholarship, and was held to a much higher academic standard than the girls whose parents wrote checks for their tuition every semester without blinking an eye at the number of zeros on the end.
Professor Winters laid the papers on the desk, leaned back with his hands behind his head, and looked at her intently. He didn't look pleased, and Cassie's anxiety level soared.
"Miss Hemmingway, you are here to learn, are you not?" His voice was gruff, stern almost.
"Yes, sir, I am." Cassie tried to hide the tremble in her voice.
"I am appalled by this," he said, gesturing at the progress reports sitting on his desk. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry, Professor Winters, but I'm not sure what you mean. I think I'm doing quite well – I have a B+ or A- in every class by Comp II, and I know I'm struggling with that class. I'd hoped to talk to you about it today, because I'm not sure what Professor Fanning expects, and I'd hoped you might have some advice for me. I've even brought a few assignments with me so you can maybe show me what I need to work on. I just don't think my writing style is what she's looking for, but I don't know how to change." Cassie was rambling and she knew it, but she kept on going anyway, fumbling in her backpack for her Comp assignments to show him.
"Miss Hemmingway, this is a disgrace," he bellowed, throwing her Comp papers onto his desk. "I am just astounded at your inability to satisfactorily complete a simple assignment. Professor Fanning gives very clear, concise directions, and I have seen no other students coming in with problems in this class."
Cassie cringed. This was not exactly going the way she thought it would.
Professor Winters got up and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind him. "Do you have any idea what you are doing?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"Miss Hemmingway, you are here on a scholarship. When you were admitted, you signed a contract. That contract stipulated that you would uphold strict academic standards and moral conduct. Is that not correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"As your advisor, it is my right to report poor academic progress to the board. As a member of the Pendleton family, it is also my duty. However, I also have a certain amount of discretion, and can choose to provide alternative discipline methods in the hopes of nipping a problem in the bud. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Cassie studied her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She was close to tears. Her parents worked hard, but neither of them had been to college, and she was the first person in her family to actually attend college. Without the scholarship, she would have to leave. Pendleton didn't allow underclassmen to hold jobs, believing that all spare time should be spent studying.
"Miss Hemmingway?" Cassie jumped; Professor Winters' breath was warm on her ear. She didn't realize he had come around behind her.
"Yes, sir. I do understand."
"So tell me. What punishment do you feel is appropriate, and will serve to motivate you to try harder?" He sat on the edge of his desk in front of her, his hands clasped on his thighs.
"I can go to the Academic Skills Center for tutoring, and I'm willing to attend the Study Tables every night." Study Tables were mandatory for any student with a C average or less, and attending was humiliating.
