Finals (20 page)

“
And so how did this hearing of yours go?” I asked.

“
I was already pissed off about my grade in Quinn’s class and about having to go to a hearing, but what sent me over the edge was when Quinn suggested I attend therapy or an anger management session that would give me the guidance and possible medical treatment she felt I needed,” Rogers said seriously.

I wondered how anyone could possibly think that this guy needed anger management. He was like a human Eeyore. If anything, he needed a shot of adrenaline, not a therapy session.

“
Did you get a chance to explain your side of the story or at least inform the other faculty members of your findings?” I asked, curious to see if other professors were well aware of Quinn’s grading prejudice.

“
It was like I was a child having a bunch of adults talk about me as if I wasn’t there. I told them about what I found, but Quinn whipped out her grade book that I’m sure she had altered and my accusations were discredited just like that,” Rogers said, snapping his fingers.

“
The rest of the hearing they sat around discussing my punishment. Obviously, I didn’t get a say since I was basically speaking a foreign language to them and since Quinn was the bell of the ball, she had the final say in the decision. She concluded that I should immediately enter an anger treatment facility and if I was able to adhere to specific parameters, they’d let me finish my courses in the summer.”

“
Okay,” I said, still wondering if any of this was true. “So where does the restraining order come in?”

“
I wasn’t too pleased about Quinn’s decision so I went to ask her to reconsider. I had to move into my Stanford apartment by mid July and start getting set for my coursework. If I was stuck in Portland finishing my undergraduate degree then essentially I would have to wait until the following year to begin my graduate studies. So in order to get to Stanford on time, I had to finish out my classes in the spring, which is what I went to go talk to her about.”

“
And she shot you down, right?” I said, becoming slightly annoyed. At this rate, Lindsay Lohan was going to win an Oscar before I ever found out why Quinn filed a restraining order against this introverted engineer.

“
She did. I went to her office
.
I
even
followed her out to her car, begging for an alternative.”

“
But you knew she was in the wrong,” I said blatantly. “Why didn’t you try to go over her head?”

“
In hindsight, that is what I should have done, but my aggression got the best of me. I had a few rather large textbooks and notebooks in my backpack and I lost it. I started
swinging at
her car with my backpack, causing some nice size dents. Public Safety saw the incident and stopped me. As they took me away, I yelled something like, ‘You’ll be sorry, I’m gonna fucking get you bitch
!
’”

“
You’re joking me,” I said, starting to laugh flippantly. “I mean no offense here, but from the impression I’m getting you’re more like a lethargic stoner than a UFC fighting muscle head. I find it hard to believe that you started slinging your textbooks at her car.”

“
I know I have a relaxed demeanor,” he said calmly, still trying to convince me of his hostile nature. “But you have to understand for the past two years I’ve been living a Zen lifestyle, my vision has been blurred by a drug-induced haze. I’ve been on more medications than I can count. This is one of first times in a long time that I’ve actually felt like my old self. I
used
to come here all the time to cram for tests with my friends. I know it’s pathetic
,
but having pancakes was a treat for me tonight.”

“
So you’re telling me
you’re
basically a pancake
-
deprived, washed
-
up engineer living out his life in a delusional bubble?”

“
Well, you kinda put a negative spin on things, but basically
that’s
correct.”

“
You’re sitting here at IHOP with me instead of building stuff or whatever it is you mechanical engineers do. I would be pissed off if I were you,” I exclaimed, trying to convey the severity of Quinn’s crimes. “An unfair professor ruined your chances of going to graduate school. Doesn’t that make you in the least bit upset?”

“
It does, but all of that is in the past. Thanks to my counseling sessions I’ve learned to forgive and forget” Rogers said.

“
That’s just it though Gordon, you shouldn’t,” I said, feeling like a football coach giving his pregame speech to a quarterback with jitters.

“
You can do something Gordon, and I can help you. We’re the ones who know she’s guilty. It’s not just about revenge, don’t you see? Sure, we can put Quinn in her place and make her pay for ruining your graduate life at Stanford, but this is about more than us. I feel it is our responsibility to help other students so they don’t have to go through what you went through. We can stop this injustice. We can make a difference. You need only to believe.”

It wasn’t much in terms of motivational speeches,
and
yet I was starting to believe the filth coming out of my mouth. Students like Trevor, who were clearly buffoons, needed my help or else they would continue to fail and wonder what was required to earn a good grade without knowing their professor was just a conniving, sexist bitch. The dark voices were once again beginning to murmur, they knew I had the means to end Quinn’s reign of terror. The only question still unanswered was whether or not I would have a sidekick for this malicious enterprise. Judging from Rogers’s raised eyebrows, he wasn’t quite ready to become my Robin. If this venture was going to happen, his inner monster needed to take form quickly because although killing Quinn would be as easy as taking sheep to the slaughter, this was Rogers’s fight, not mine.

“
How
do you
presume
we go
about doing that
? The professors at USE aren’t going to listen to us, you know that, right?” said Rogers.

“
Who says we have to involve faculty members?” I asked. “We can handle this matter ourselves.”

With a perplexed look about him, Rogers appeared to have no clue what I meant, until suddenly as if stung by a bee in the hindquarters, he leaned across the table. “Are you talking about vigilante justice?”

Vigilante justice was folklore. Social deviants such as Robin Hood used their skills and equipment in their arsenal to correct a societal wrong. In many instances, the adoring public dubs this individual a hero. Killing for the sake of bettering humanity is an extreme act exceeding vigilante justice. Since my acts of crime were less than acceptable, my place was not alongside such folk legends. A few fans of
Dexter
might pat me on the back for ridding the world of a coke addict and a rapist; but to most, murder is a heinous, unforgivable act. Juries and judges are capable of doling out verdicts pertaining to human life, but not immature college students. Few would understand the need to dispose of Brent and Harvey, which is why unlike Robin Hood, my feats would be talked about on the evening news, not around campfires.

However, in this particular case, vigilante justice was conceivably a better idea. My sinister intuition wanted to terminate Quinn as if she were an unwelcomed rodent, but something a little less dramatic could still do the trick.

“
Yes,” I whispered back.

“
Like what?” he asked silently, making it appear as though we were discussing top-secret classified information.

“
If you had the
chance to reclaim your life
and
avenge
the
injustice
done to you, would you?
All
it takes is grabbing
her attention
and provoking
a little fear. Fear is a powerful thing.”

“
How do we know that we wouldn’t further enrage Quinn by whatever it is we do?” Rogers asked.

“
Simple. Commit an act so terrifying she’ll be afraid for her life,” I began. “You see, anarchists have one advantage over the just and that is, they have no fear. If you have no concern over the repercussions of your actions then you have no boundaries. Individuals are riddled with rules, rules implemented by the government, by societal norms, by employers, by spouses, and the list only continues. But when you live without rules, you’re able to control those who do abide by them. You have the power.”

As a college senior, I’m no stranger to recognizing or even having the occasionally “Aha!” moment. These incidents happen when you finally discover how to equate a difficult homework problem, such as understanding how to amortize a company patent, or sometimes a professor will give you an example that helps put the issue in clearer context. Whatever the reason, the expression is easily detectable. The individual’s lips come together forming an “O” shape as if they were about to take a sip from a Slurpee. It’s as if a switch is flipped; that flash of recognition benchmarking the moment when a once unfamiliar concept is suddenly understandable.

Sitting across from Rogers it was easy to see that he had finally grasped the point I was trying to make as an inaudible “ah” escaped his lips followed by a brief head nod. Up until this juncture in the conversation, I wasn’t sure if this lackadaisical master of Zen was capable of taking up the quest of destroying Quinn, but judging from his expression, it appeared as if the repressed Gordon Rogers was resurfacing and would bring with him a fervent desire for revenge. He appeared ready to join me on the dark side, or so it seemed.

“
Let’s blow up her car,” Rogers said, reaffirming my belief that he was ready for his mission.

I was a little surprised by the sudden suggestion, but the idea did coincide with our vigilante agenda. My only concern was how we might pull off such a feat.

“
That would get her attention,” I replied quietly back. “Can you do that?”

“
Yeah, I’m a mechanical engineer. It might take me a few weeks to create a car bomb suitable for our needs but it’s not that tough,” Rogers said. “But how do we go about making it clear to Quinn that we know her game and want it to stop so she doesn’t destroy any other students’ lives?”

“
Leave that part to me,” I said, not wanting to completely miss out on the fun. “You just worry about her car.” Thinking back to Rogers’s earlier incident with Quinn’s car, I couldn’t help but add. “I have to say, you really have it in for Quinn’s car.”

“
I remember one day she told this girl in our class how she got her last husband’s car in the divorce. She said that he loved his Rolls more than anything in the world, which made her taking his prized possession all the more satisfying.”

I suppose if I was smart, interpreting Rogers’s story would lead me to believe trifling with Quinn wasn’t the best idea. Teaming up with an unstable alumnus who in all likelihood might place a car bomb underneath my own Honda, or rat me out to a professor or the police, didn’t seem too logical either.

However, like a runner drenched in sweat, my self-confidence that stemmed from previous successful endeavors was oozing from every pore of my body. I had brilliantly gotten away with two counts of murder and no one was thinking Wayne York was anything more than a classmate or friend to the departed. Sure, Quinn was a different caliber opponent and Rogers wouldn’t be my first choice when it came to picking an apprentice but I was feeling like Lady Gaga after a successful night at the VMAs. I was entirely too good to be stopped. I was in an elite class of my own, and despite common knowledge that all serial killers or social deviants face the music sooner or later, I was going to risk helping Rogers so we could take down Quinn.

Rogers and I sat for a few more minutes hammering out the details of our scheme before we shook hands, finally leaving IHOP at 1:30 in the morning. As I drove back to my house, I felt as though we had developed a decent plan but I was still worried I didn’t really understand the real Gordon Rogers.

My dark voices told me he could be trusted and that he was more than capable of helping me end Quinn’s reign of terror, but I wish they would have given me the complete brief on Gordon Rogers, rather than just the cliff notes.

Chapter Nineteen

A
ccording to Lexie, the countdown was now down to seventeen days. Like her, many seniors were trying to squeeze every last drop out of their college experience. In a few short weeks, we would all begin our postgraduate lives, heading in whatever direction the wind took us. The lucky ones like Lexie already had jobs waiting for them. Lexie was slated to begin her management-training program at Kate Spade in downtown Portland after receiving her degree. In no time, she would be coaxing the rich and fabulous into buying overpriced purses.