My Ride to Nowhere

I’d ditched my shot at a tenure-track position to bike across the country.

My advisor, Professor Davies, was blowing up my phone, demanding why I’d tried to sabotage Brittany Miller by plagiarizing her research paper.

Last time around, Brittany and I had been battling it out for that coveted university job.

Professor Davies had said whoever published first would get the position. I'd practically lived in the lab, grinding away day and night.

Brittany submitted her paper first, and it was identical to mine. I became the campus pariah, a total copycat.

When I tried to explain, Professor Davies shut me down, declaring I’d ripped off Brittany. End of story.

Then, my roommate, Sarah, claimed I’d cheated her out of scholarship money with my plagiarized papers and poisoned me with Paraquat.

And now I was back, waking up on the day I was supposed to compete for the job.

1.

“Look, the job market’s brutal, and this position is tied to the department. You and Brittany are both graduating, so it's a fair fight, right? Whoever gets published in a top journal first gets the job.”

Professor Davies was talking at me, all righteous and just, holding a steaming mug of coffee. He patted me on the shoulder, pulling me back from the horror show of memories.

He smiled at me, waiting for my agreement. When I started to speak, he quickly added, “Okay, great! Since you're both cool with it, I'll supervise to ensure everything is fair."

Last time, Professor Davies had been a mentor to me, guiding my research and offering support. He had been like a second father. But he was also the one who had ultimately pushed me over the cliff.

I adjusted my glasses on my nose, the weight of the frame reminding me this wasn’t a dream.

I’d been given a second chance.

Professor Davies, leaving me speechless, called Brittany out to “discuss her paper."

Last time, Brittany didn't seem close to Professor Davies. She rarely discussed her research with him. It never even crossed my mind that they might have had something going on. Apparently, Brittany was his secret daughter from back home.

Back in my dorm, Sarah was chomping down on some wings as I broke the news. “That Brittany girl? She's a nobody,” she said, licking sauce from her fingers. “She'll never beat you. What could a third-year grad student possibly produce? You’ve been working on this for eight years, and how many papers have you published?”

Her buddy, Jessica, piped in: “Yeah, your advisor loves you. He practically worships the ground you walk on. He just has to make this look fair for the others. You’ve totally got this. We’ll celebrate when you get the position.”

They were so confident, while I felt this knot of anxiety growing in my chest.

My family owned a business, and I didn't need this job. But my parents were against me doing that, so they encouraged me to get a stable University job instead.

Last time, after the plagiarism accusations went public, I had tried to explain.

But Professor Davies himse...