The Adamas Blueprint Read Free Page A

dashboard clock read 4:59.
    Kevin found an empty spot marked “Reserved” right in front of Braden Hall. He took the letter from the front seat and bounded up the steps into the granite administration building and up a flight of stairs to the second floor where he reached a glass door with “Office of Financial Aid and Student Affairs” etched on the front. He had the door halfway open when a woman on the other side of the door reached out to stop him.
    “The office is closed,” she said. He recognized the woman immediately. Her name was Teri Linley. She was an undergraduate, maybe seven or eight years younger than he was, with curly, brown hair piled high in front and too much makeup for Kevin’s taste. He knew her because he MORRISON/THE ADAMAS BLUEPRINT
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    had graded a first-year chemistry course over a year ago, and she had been the biggest pain in the class, complaining about every little point he took off her exams.
    She didn’t give Kevin a second glance and tried closing the door. He held the handle firmly.
    “Teri, I have to see Dean Baker,” he said.
    Teri examined her watch dramatically. “It’s after 5. We are closed.” Her expression was annoyance mixed with impatience. She wanted to be out of here.
    “I know it’s late, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with her.”
    She shook her head. “You’ll have to come back Monday.”
    “I can’t.” Kevin waved the letter at her. “This says I have to see her before the end of today.”
    “As far as this office is concerned,” she said, “the day has ended.”
    Kevin pointed toward the office hallway. “I know Dean Baker’s still here. Her light’s on.”
    “I didn’t say she wasn’t here. I said we were closed.” Teri pulled on the door again. Kevin wouldn’t let it budge.
    “What are you doing?” she said. “Let go.”
    Kevin knew that if he got upset with her, it would only make the situation worse. He had to try another tack.
    “I meant it when I said my business was urgent.” He smiled. “I’m not letting go of this door until I get to see Dean Baker.”
    Teri hesitated, turning her head to look down the hallway.
    “I promise you’ll get out of here a lot faster if you let me in.”

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    She turned back and held his eyes for a couple of seconds with a look of disgusted resignation. She let go of the door and threw up her hands. “Fine. Come on.”
    The woman went back to the front desk, and Kevin walked down to the dean’s office.
    He rapped lightly on the open door. “Dean Baker?”
    Julia Baker, Dean of Financial Aid was younger than Kevin had expected, probably in her thirties, but when she looked up, her eyes peered over reading glasses with the unmistakable gaze of authority. She had straight red hair, an angular face with a dash of freckles, and was dressed in an expensive-looking gray dress accented by a turquoise scarf. He suddenly felt self-conscious about his own appearance but didn’t take off his cap, knowing his hair would look even worse.
    “Sorry to bother you so late...” he began.
    “Not at all,” Dean Baker said with a smile. “Please have a seat.” She gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk and Kevin sat. “I’ve been expecting you, Kevin.”
    “You know who I am?” he said incredulously.
    “Of course.” She ran her fingers along a pile of folders on her desk, then pulled one out, opened it and tapped one of the pages. “I recognize you from your application photo. You’re not the first student at South Texas with perfect GRE scores, but we haven’t had many.” She nodded at the paper in his hand. “That’s why I sent you that letter. I like to make sure our best students get every chance to succeed, no matter what problems they’ve had.”
    “About the letter,” Kevin said, waving it. “I came over as soon as I read it.”
    “I sent that letter out August 25th. That was almost two weeks ago.”
    “I don’t get to my STU mailbox