Teach Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

You know as well as I do what kind of merit it would
bring the college. Not to mention funding.”
That makes the old bastard pause for a moment. He might not like
disruption, change, or American poets, but he loves his grant money.
“There’s
at least three founders I know just off the top of my head who would
dig up their parents’
graves and sell the bones for a chance to fund a discovery like
this.”
    “If
you’re right,”
he points out. “If
they’re not just
some pretty scribbles by an unknown unnamed first year who happened
to be in attendance here at the same time as your man. This college
was chock-full to bursting with American would-be poet laureates in
that era, you’ll
recall. How can you be sure the papers don’t
belong to one of them? And it’s
awfully handy you just happened to stumble across these now, with
your consideration for tenure fast approaching.”
    My
fists clench and unclench at my sides. That’s
bloody rich. Dean Perjurer Pierson, accusing me of faking something. Granted, there were no convictions during the
five forgery scandals in which our lovely dean here has been
embroiled during his long and storied career, but five times, really?
You do the math. One of those at least must be legit.
    Maybe
that’s why he’s
so cautious about letting me run with the Eliot story now.
    “Look,”
I manage through gritted teeth. “If
you won’t let me run
a full seminar, at least give me a couple of research assistants.
They don’t even have
to be PhD candidates; I’m
not picky. Undergrads if you prefer. I just want a couple more eyes
on this project than my own. You know, to be sure I’m
not just conveniently hallucinating similarities in tone.”
I inject a certain amount of venom into that last statement.
    He
stares me down, and I can practically hear the tiny cogs in his brain
cranking. He wants to turn me down for the hell of it now. Say no
just to watch me yell and shout.
    But
he won’t. Pierson
might be a rat, but he’s
a smart rat. How else would he keep his post through all the
knee-deep shit he’s
waded into?
    “Fine.
One undergraduate. No more.”
    Now
I clench my fists for a different reason—to
keep from punching the air in celebration. Okay, so it’s
not the full seminar I hoped for. But a dedicated research aid and I
can tackle this headlong, no problem. I’ll
select based on research experience and writing ability. I can use my
eighteenth century class as a pool, see how they do on the Heaney
assignment.
    My
mind is racing so fast with preparations that it takes me a moment to
notice Pierson has already slammed his office door shut in my face,
stranding me in the middle of the quiet, mid-morning college hallway,
a few steps from the registrar’s
office.
    I
turn on my heel, ready to storm back to my office and start putting a
list of potentials together, when I nearly trip headlong over a
student.
    I
blink a few times at the girl blocking my path down the hallway.
She’s almost a head
shorter than me, her huge blue eyes locked on mine beneath a cloud of
runaway auburn waves. Something about the purse of her lips makes my
mind immediately run to places I’m
not proud of. My eyes want to drift along her curves, drink in the
way her low-cut shirt exposes her collarbones and the hint of
cleavage beneath, not enough to be revealing, just enough to make me
know there’s a lot
she could reveal to the right guy. I lock my eyes onto her face
instead, but that doesn’t
help quell the beast.
    Fuck,
she’s gorgeous.
    She’s
also staring at me, wide-eyed. “Sorry,”
she gasps, her eyes somehow widening even more, and that’s
when I recognize her. Mary Kate’s
nervous friend from class.
    Stop
ogling the students, you cretin .
“Not at all,”
I say aloud. “My
fault. I trust you’re
enjoying my class, Miss . . . ?”
I wait for her to fill in the blank, but she only gapes at me longer.
    Finally,
her mouth snaps shut and her shoulders square. She’s
even more