Page 1 of Campus Muscle

1

Dakota

I waited until the last student drifted out of the lecture hall before I made my move. Notebook tucked neatly under my arm, pen clipped to the spiral, and the pages flagged with color-coded tabs. Neat and tidy, exactly as I always was.

The only difference was the nerves.

I took a deep breath, hoping it would help, but it was just as pointless as the last three I’d taken. I’d spent three weeks on this think piece. Three weeks of refining every single one of my arguments, tightening every paragraph, and making sure there wasn’t a single weak claim buried between the lines. It was the best thing I’d ever written. I was sure of it.

Professor Adler was busy gathering his notes at his desk. His movements were unhurried, as if the day could wait for him. But I couldn’t. With a last steadying breath, I made my way over. Composed and steady.

“Professor?” I sounded timid. Shy. I was neither of those things.

He looked up and already had a faint smile. “Dakota. I was hoping you’d come talk to me after the lesson.”

Of course he was. It had been over a week since I handed in my progress check for review, and he hadn’t said anything about it. That was concerning, since I usually couldn’t hold him off from telling me what he thought.

I gently rested my notebook against the desk, hoping there wasn’t anything wrong with my work. “I wanted to hear your thoughts on the draft I handed in last week.”

“I read it twice,” he said with an unreadable look.

His words should’ve been reassuring, but there was something in his tone that made my shoulders tense up.

“And?” My mouth was inexplicably dry.

“It’s strong, thoughtful, and polished,” he said, and this time his voice was confident. “Your argument about post-feminist rhetoric on college campuses is compelling and relevant. Your sources are solid. It’s the kind of work I’d expect from you.”

I gave him a curt nod and waited, knowing that he wasn’t done. The more he tried to compliment me, the more his tone gave him away, and I instantly knew I wouldn’t like where this was going.

“But,” he eventually added, and everything inside me went stiff. “You didn’t challenge yourself.”

My brow furrowed, giving my thoughts away before my words could. “I don’t understand.”

“You wrote exactly what I expected you to write and in the exact way I had gotten used to as well.” He sat down on his leather office chair and leaned back slightly as he studied me. “You’re comfortable in this realm of journalism. You like analytical pieces and cultural critique. It’s a space where you know how to sound authoritative and certain.”

“That’s because I am. I’ve spent years refining my voice.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he said evenly. “And it’s not what’s concerning me. The problem is that you’re staying in a space where you already know how to succeed. You’re constantly being safe.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m focusing on the serious topics.”

“You’re focusing on familiar ones,” he corrected with a raised finger. “A strong journalist doesn’t just cover what feels important or what’s easy for them. They make any subject worth paying attention to. Right now, you’re failing in that aspect. Writing for the school paper might be able to help.”

I held his gaze as irritation settled in my chest. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think writing about makeup trends on campus is going to improve my work.”

“I didn’t say anything about makeup.” He tapped a finger on the top page of my paper. “You have a distinct voice, Dakota. You just haven’t tested whether it holds up outside of topics you already care about.”

“And you think I should prove that by writing for the school paper?”

He gave me a knowing smile. “I know you should.”

“You can’t be serious.” A quiet, disbelieving breath left me.

“I’m as serious as I’ll ever be. I want you to meet Penny Donovan. She’s the editor.”

I shook my head in protest. “I’m not interested in writing fluff pieces. I’ll just be wasting—”

“And I’m not interested in hearing the excuses that ultimately prove you’re avoiding growth,” he said calmly. “This will be your next assignment. A season-long project with the paper. And before you get any ideas, it will be graded.”