Page 3 of Submission

“Megan!” a familiar voice full of warning calls out, and Ashley falls silent as Miss Maverick approaches us.

Her smile is sharp like she knows what she’s interrupting. “Just the girl I was looking for. Can I have a minute of your time, or are you two busy with something important?”

I glance back at the red-faced bitch standing a few feet away from me, and then I nod my head. “Sure, we were just finished.”

Miss Maverick walks with me to the entrance of the college, not saying a word. I glance at her curiously, and when we come to stand at the front doors, I finally ask, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” she responds. “I saw the way that girl was harassing you, and since I was asked to keep an eye on you, I removed you from the situation.”

“An eye on me?” I blink, taken aback. “By whom?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Clearly not.”

“Then I’ve said too much.”

She’s about to leave, but I stop her as a deep realization sinks into me.

“Wait, was it Hunter?”

She just smiles, and this queasy feeling intensifies within me.

“Is he having me watched here?”

It’s already enough that I know he can be a cold-blooded killer, but I draw the line at stalking. As if one is truly worse than another, I think to myself.

“No,” Miss Maverick denies. “I was just asked to look after you, and if I saw anybody making you uncomfortable, he wanted me to deal with it.”

I let out a breath, “Oh.”

Okay, the gesture borders on oddly sweet and a tad bit stalkerish, but I’m willing to look past it. It’s better than having Lars and Parker scare half of the students to death by glaring at them all day.

“I see.”

I’m about to say thank you when I stare at her, and something else occurs to me. Something I’m almost afraid to ask.

“He didn’t have anything to do with the outcome of me showing at the exhibition, did he?”

“Of course not,” Miss Maverick chuckles. “The panel was very confident in the quality of your work. Mr. Middleton simply advised us to make a fair judgment.”

I feel like my entire world has been shaken. First, my sister calls me out of the blue with her bullshit, and now this.

“So all this was his doing? He got the previous winners overthrown?”

“You make it sound manipulative when it wasn’t that. He simply wanted everything to be fair as it should be.”

“How could he even have a say in what goes on here?”

“Mr. Middleton is a very popular patron of the arts. He’s well-known in the arts community. When he approached me, he told me that all he wanted was a just evaluation of your work and that if you didn’t make the cut, he’d figure out something else for you. But he was right. He knew you should have been on the shortlist to exhibit your work, as you were at first. He showed me a sketch you drew, and I was confused about how you’d been replaced myself. Your work is truly remarkable for someone who didn’t study at a professional art school.”

I should be furious that he interfered, but my heart is feeling so full right now. He didn’t say a word to me, even when I was so nasty towards him. I made it clear that I didn’t trust him, didn’t trust us, but he still championed me in the background.

“I feel like an idiot,” I breathe, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.

“It’s fine.” Miss Maverick pats my shoulder. “And I do hope you believe that the results weren’t rigged. I was only brought into the mix as an impartial judge to give you and all the students here a fair chance. I have too much integrity to do otherwise.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

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