Page 126 of Ruthless Court

Her research is strong. Her argument is aggressive. She has highlighted three places where she thinks my position collapses and filled the margins with comments that read like insults dressed for academia.

Unsupported assumption.

Circular logic.

This sentence uses twenty-eight words to say nothing.

At the bottom of the email, she adds:

Insert your sections and return by Thursday. That should eliminate the need to meet.

I read the last sentence twice, find her number in the seminar contact list, and text her.

Me: We need to meet in person.

The typing bubble appears, vanishes, then returns.

Hannah: How did you get my number?

Me: I have connections.

Hannah: That sounds like something a criminal says before the police search his basement.

Me: Library. Tomorrow. Seven.

Hannah: I’d rather fail.

Me: You’re too competitive to mean that.

Three dots pulse across the screen.

Hannah: I’m capable of accepting a lower grade to preserve my peace.

Me: No, you aren’t.

Hannah: You don’t know me.

Me: I know you corrected my citations before finishing your own argument.

No response.

Me: I also know you checked the grading rubric four times during class.

Hannah: You were watching me?

Me: You sit beside me.

Hannah: Against my will.

Me: Seven.

Hannah: Two hours. Not a minute longer.

I smile at the screen.

Me: See you there, Endnote.

Hannah: Lose my number.