Now Arriving

Several thousand questions rattled around in that empty skull of his as the train rattled along the tracks, prime among them being "Why am I such an accomplished self-saboteur?"

He opened the Mail app on his phone again to read the letter that damned him.

FROM: alvarezce@jhu.edu
TO:   mleveret@jhu.edu; cottoncritter93@hotmail.com
CC:   richko41@jhu.edu; studentconduct@jhu.edu; athleticdirector@jhu.edu;
SUBJ: Notice of Expulsion from Johns Hopkins University

Bradmeyer Leveret-Hasenkamp:

The Office of the Athletics Director was notified that a blood test taken by the NCAA prior to the start of the NCAA Fencing Regionals tested positive for abnormally elevated levels of erythropoetin (EPO), a banned substance under the "peptide hormones, growth factors, related substances and mimetics" class per the NCAA Sport Science Institute.

The NCAA has determined you are in violation of the NCAA eligibility rules and have been declared ineligible for competition. As this is your second such declaration of ineligibility this academic year and your fourth overall, the NCAA has notified Johns Hopkins University that you have permanently lost eligibility with regard to NCAA competitive play. Therefore, the Office of Financial Aid has no choice but to revoke your Athletic Scholarship.

The Office of Student Conduct convened both an Administrative Hearing and a Conduct Board regarding your behavior. In both cases you were sent several memoranda (attached) directing you to appear before it to assist you with continuing your academic career in lieu of this loss of scholarship. Despite these memoranda, you have failed to appear before either the Administrative Hearing or the Conduct Board.

We have attempted multiple times to salvage this relationship. Your refusal to participate is disappointing and leaves little choice in the matter.

In my capacity as the Dean of Undergraduate Studies I am hereby notifying you of my decision to expel you from Johns Hopkins University. You have been withdrawn from the School of Public Health effective immediately. Your academic credits, such as they are, have been expunged. Any tuition you have paid in excess of your scholarship has been forfeit. You have twenty-four (24) hours to remove your belongings from student housing at which point your J-Card will cease to allow you access to campus facilities. You must surrender your J-Card to your Resident Advisor.

You may not reapply to the University for one (1) year. If you wish to make an appeal, you may do so no later than thirty (30) days' time. You may have counsel present if you wish.

Sincerely,

Dr. Chaxiraxi E. Álvarez
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers
Dean of Undergraduate Studies
Johns Hopkins University

cc: Director, Department of Athletics
Office of Student Conduct
Dean, Department of Biology and Molecular Biology

Attachments: 9

The Blue Jays are Going Green!
Johns Hopkins is committed to a paperless future.
Please consider the environment before printing this e-mail.

Cleaning out his dorm had been a solemn affair; his entire floor had cleared out to go to a frat party celebrating yet another lacrosse victory, so nobody was there to watch him grimly piledrive all his neatly hung-up clothes in a duffel bag or to see him shove his laptop in his messenger.

Well, nobody, that is, except for a tiger, the slightly older and certainly more dour RA standing outside the door.

"Sorry, My," they sighed. "They asked me to make sure you didn't, uh. You know."

"Yeah, no. No, Quinn, I get it," he'd replied, having already successfully found a way to sneak out the absolutely-not-allowed-in-campus-housing bottle of everclear into his bag.

He had tossed all his notebooks ("won't need those"). He left the microwave and the minifridge -- surely someone would use them or, at the least, give them to campus surplus ("hopefully they won't surplus the burritos, though").

He'd spent the last several hours on a train back home from Baltimore, eating prepackaged salads and sneaking pulls of everclear between the conductor's passing up and down the train car. He would never smoke on the train. He didn't do it now and he certainly didn't do it when the conductor had asked what he was up to in the bathroom between cars 9 and 10 and why it smelled so badly of cigarettes and had to give him $100 to not get put off at the last stop.

He was only remembering all this because it was the last e-mail he'd received to his personal address; his parents hadn't even so much as called to check in on him. Surely they got a written copy in the mail, what with him being a legacy admission providing a sizable endowment attached to his application in the form of the Dr. Meadow B. Leveret School of Social Work Building. Or they'd probably heard through the alumni network.

Whatever. T'hell with'em, he thought, huffing hard enough to fog the railcar's window as the trees streaked by against the twilight hues of the early evening.

He started packing things in his messenger bag, putting away the cards he'd bought and wrestling with his phone charger, when he heard the familiar squeak of his text message notification in his headphones.

> AC: Is it true my best friend from high school, the inimitable Bradmeyer Etienne Leveret-Hasenkamp, voted Most Contagious Smile of the senior class, is returning to our meager, unworthy mosquito-plagued backwater?

"Best friend" was doing a lot of work, Meyer recalled. They were in homeroom together, sometimes they'd study for the same exams, but that was about it. Maybe he didn't have as many friends as the hare remembered.

Wait a second. How did he find out about this? This was painful, even more than the e-mail, more than the ignominy of packing his shit in front of the RA he'd fooled around with, more than the Baltimore cab driver asking why he was heading to the train station in the middle of winter quarter when he knew midterms were around the corner.

Arnaud found out he was coming back home. Arnaud, the library sciences nerd. Arnaud, the "breakfast-cereal-at-lunch" guy. Arnaud, the "always had a note for gym class" guy.

> ML: hey arnie

> AC: It'll be good to see you again, My.

> ML: yeah, same

A beat passed.

> ML: what do you mean?

> AC: I mean, I figured you probably needed a ride home from the train.

Arnaud was picking him up at the train station? Dragging him kicking and screaming back into the whirlpool of small-town bullshit that came with being in Hollyhawk? This was almost too much to bear. He felt the knot between his shoulderblades tighten.

> ML: howd you find out? who told you?

> AC: Nobody. I saw you posting about it is all.

Right. Shit. Thanks, he'd chastized a previous version of himself.

> AC: It must be tough. I just figured you probably needed some help.

Another pause. Meyer left him on read for a few minutes.

> AC: Do you have a place to stay?

> ML: yeah

> AC: Where? With your parents?

> ML: no, im at the 12 oaks for a few days

Deciding to go back to Hollyhawk had been an admission of defeat. Making arrangements at the Twelve Oaks Lodge, though, had been a fear of dealing with the fallout of his choices. A roadside motor inn turned divorced dad apartment complex, it was the kind of place you stayed "for a couple of days until you got back on your feet," though not everyone often made it into that second group. He was lucky they had an opening.

There was no way he'd have asked his parents for a place to stay.

God, how miserable, he thought. Meyer had nowhere else to go but his hometown, and had nowhere else to go once he got there. And now the guy he used to have to tell other kids to ease up on was his only hope of rescue and his only real connection with the town he swore he'd never come back to. Jesus, he reflected. The reality of his situation was hitting him and he bit back his tears.

> AC: My, you can't be serious.

> ML: its fine, its just for a little while until things calm down at home

> AC: I've got a pull-out, man. You don't have to stay at the Twelve Brokes.

> AC: If it's just for a few days you'd probably rather be in familiar company, right?

> AC: Good to get settled with someone you know

God. Arnaud was right and it sucked. Meyer left him on read for a moment.

> AC: We can order in.

It suddenly struck the hare how hungry he was. Even his stomach seemed surprised by the revelation, grumbling in apparent shock that a diner car salad only gets you so far. And, if he was being honest with himself, he knew damn well the Twelve Oaks was going to be a nightmare.

Okay. Fresh start. Commit. You can do it, he told himself. It's just for a few days.

> ML: sure ok

> AC: Okay. I'm just out front in passenger pickup. I'll see you soon.

He heard the train's brakes squeal. He pulled his hood over his head, tugging his ears gently through the holes, shoving his phone in his pocket.

He didn't want to be here. He stood up, slung his duffel over his shoulder, and checked his pocket for the claim ticket for his fencing bag, breathing shallow as he felt it in his fingers.

"Passengers for Hollyhawk, this is your stop. Please be sure you've gathered your belongings and disembark through the rear of the train car."

He stepped off the train car and took a huge breath of cold, wet, peaty air mixed with the slightest touch of burnt oil and diesel exhaust. There was a very small comfort in the familiar scent of home, even if you didn't want to be anywhere near it.

Settling →