Her Brother's Innocence

1: 1

The summer break was over, and on the day my brother drove me back to campus, my phone rang with an unknown number.

The voice on the other end was exactly the same as mine.

"Don't let your brother drive Savannah Henson to the hospital. She's going to accuse him of sexual harassment."

"Your brother will be hounded online until he's so depressed he takes his own life. You and your parents will go bankrupt, end up on the street, and starve."

I gripped the phone. "Who is this?"

The call cut off with a single beep.

I dialed straight back. The number was already dead.

I turned to my brother right away.

"Do you know a Savannah Henson?"

He shook his head.

I told myself it was probably just a prank.

Then, as I stepped out of the car at the campus gate, a girl came rushing over.

"Can you take me to the hospital? My stomach hurts so much..."

My brother was already reaching out to help her into the car when the phone call flashed back into my mind.

I grabbed his arm.

"My brother's busy. Get yourself a cab!"

...

The girl froze on the spot.

"It's so late, there are no cabs at the gate! I really can't take the pain anymore!"

"That's your problem, not ours." There wasn't a trace of give in my voice.

The students gathered around us broke into an uproar, and someone recognized me.

"Isn't that Professor Pruitt from our department?"

"That's cold. A student in that much pain, and she won't even lift a finger?"

"Not an ounce of compassion. She calls herself a teacher?"

The girl's eyes went red at once.

"So you're a professor. Don't worry, I'm a sophomore here, I'm not some shady person. I only asked because I had no other choice."

She pulled out her student ID and held it up in front of me.

Printed clearly across it were two words: Savannah Henson.

Every hair on my body stood up.

I stared hard at her. "Your name's Savannah Henson?"

She nodded timidly. "Y-yes, Professor."

I knocked her student ID aside and said coldly,

"If you're not well, call 911. Don't come to us."

Savannah burst into sobs.

"An ambulance costs four or five hundred dollars! That's my whole month of living money! I can't possibly afford it!"

My voice stayed cold.

"That's still your own problem."

The words set the crowd off for good.

"Unbelievable! She won't help, fine, but she's this aggressive about it?"

"A teacher without the most basic decency!"

"Cold-blooded, that's what this is. Fire her already!"

Countless phone cameras were trained on me, flashes going off nonstop.

My brother hurried over.

"Forget it, the girl can barely stand. I'll drive her—"

"Stay out of it. Get back in the car." I held him back hard.

"It's on the way, one trip. What could possibly happen?" His tone turned firm; he was set on helping.

My eyes stung, and for the first time in my life I snapped at my brother.

"I said no! You absolutely cannot drive her!"

He was stunned. Not once, growing up, had I ever raised my voice at him.

Beside us, Savannah was still crouched on the ground, crying her heart out.

That was when the dean called, and the moment I picked up, his furious roar came down the line.