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P.M.
Subject:
Re: Jan Plan
    Brandon,
    Don’t worry too much—I wasn’t convinced the “Survivor” project was really up your alley. I do need your new proposal by 5:00 pm tomorrow, so please make haste. If it helps, one of my other advisees, Callie Vernon, is working alone on a project that could probably use two people, in case you’d like to get in touch with her.
    Look forward to reading your proposal!
    Best,
    MP

6
A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS THAT IT ALWAYS HELPS TO HAVE AN ALLY .
    B right and early on Tuesday morning, Jenny let the front door to Stansfield Hall slam behind her as she headed toward the dean’s office. As suspected, her adviser, Ms. Rose, had told her she needed to get permission directly from the dean if she wanted to work on her own. Now she just needed to convince him she was justified.
    The administrative building was silent except for the muffled sound of music and the hissing of the old metal radiators. The wet bottoms of Jenny’s dark green Wellies squeaked against the waxed wooden floors. For the first time, she wondered if teachers appreciated Jan Plan as much as students. After all, they didn’t really have to teach classes, just look in on their advisees and occasionally lead an independent study.
Did teachers have their own parties?
she suddenly wondered, trying to picture Ms. Rose standing around a keg with the anal Latin teacher, Mr. Gaston. Or doing body shots. Ew.
    Shaking that disturbing image from her mind, she marched toward the new dean’s door. Mr. Tompkins, Marymount’s secretary, was not at his desk—in fact, it was empty except for a Waverly pencil cup and a flat desk calendar. When a dean left, did that mean their secretary had to leave, too? Like with a presidential administration?
Guess I just go and introduce myself
, Jenny thought, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She glanced at herself in the reflection of the large, café-style mirror that hung in the waiting area. She’d chosen her black three-quarter-sleeve Banana Republic top and a pair of Seven jeans she’d found at a thrift store years ago and loved to paint in. The paint splatters, she hoped, would make her seem serious about her art project.
    Just as she raised her hand to knock on the door, it flung open. Jenny leaped back in surprise—and so did Dean Dresden. “Oh! Hello there.” He stepped back, dropping a stack of brightly colored paint samples to the floor.
    “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Jenny blurted out, bending down to pick up a handful of the small squares of paper. The office was a huge room with enormous bay windows that looked out over the quad. Over the outstretched bare branches of the trees, a tiny glimpse of the blue-gray Hudson River was visible in the distance. “I can come back if this is a bad time.”
    “No, no.” The dean grinned, grabbing the rest of the samples from the floor. “My wife’s just been hounding me to change the color of the office before I get completely settled. So excuse the mess. And please come in.”
    “She doesn’t like… beige?” Jenny asked, stepping into the office after him. She’d only had to meet with Dean Marymount once, but it was still strange to see his office almost completely emptied out. The only furniture was a big oak desk and two large armchairs, one of which was set behind the desk. The walls—painted a bland color that made Jenny think of a doctor’s office—were completely bare save for the nails where Dean Marymount’s various pictures used to hang. A stack of white cardboard boxes stood in the corner.
    The new dean’s face turned expectantly toward her.
    “I guess it does look a bit… blah.”
    “That’s exactly what she said.” Dean Dresden shook his head as he tossed the samples down on his desk and extended his hand out to Jenny. “Anyway. I’m Dean Dresden. And I’m always happy to meet one of my new students.”
    “I’m Jenny Humphrey.” Jenny smiled, feeling the butterflies in her stomach start to settle