I've only been on campus for about two minutes when I almost kill a freshman.

Slamming on the brakes of my on-its-last-legs Volkswagen, I quietly curse at the kid carrying a hamper full of his crap across the street without looking both ways.

"Son of a bee . . . tlejuice," I censor the expletive as the car stalls, remembering that I'm surrounded by impressionable young minds. They aren't exactly paying tens of thousands of dollars per year to see one of their brand new professors acting like one of them, now are they?

I smile at the thought. It was only a few years ago that I was in that teen's shoes as I similarly made the big and scary move into college. But now, seven years later, I'm literally sitting here with a doctorate in anthropology, ready to face the other side of the classroom. And I still can't believe my luck to have my first teaching job be as part of the faculty at one of the most prestigious universities in the United States.

As a bunch of other students take advantage of the stopped traffic and scurry across the road while towing suitcases and mini fridges, I turn my head to the left. There, the wrought iron gates that have stood at the entrance of this hallowed institution since its founding almost two hundred years ago loom overhead. With the university's crest at the top framing the name Packard University, the gates stand open to welcome the new arrivals.

Beep. Beep.

An impatient horn draws my attention back to the clear road ahead, so I scramble to get my car restarted. "Sorry!" I yell out my window at the cars stuck behind me and wave an apology as the engine finally sputters to life again.

The GPS tells me that I'm only a few blocks away from my rental house, but the general chaos of move-in day leads to a detour that extends my trip by another ten minutes. Having driven nearly non-stop since early this morning all the way up from Maryland, I'm more than ready to stretch my legs. I'm also very conscious of the time since I'm supposed to be getting the keys and house tour from the rental agent by no later than five.

I pull up to the curb in front of the adorable Art Deco-meets-Snow White inspired cottage with just a couple of minutes to spare. Grabbing my phone to notify Audra from Woodhurst Realty and Rentals of my arrival, I see a text that had come in five minutes ago.

Audra WRR: Running a little behind. Hang tight and see you in a bit.

Relief floods over me that I haven't missed her. I can't afford to spend the night in a hotel for going three minutes over schedule. It's one of the reasons that I made the drive in one-go instead of comfortably breaking it up into two days. Since the house came pre-furnished, I could also sell or give away my furniture to not only make a few extra bucks, but also not need to pay for professional movers.

I can't wait to start getting a steady paycheck and no longer live like a perpetually broke grad student.

As I count my luck and wait for Audra, I get a chance to catch my breath and look around.

The university built all of the buildings in this area in similar styles, which makes it feel even more like a community. The bigger, multi-level houses with dramatic gables and fancy towers are occupied by students, while smaller cottages like mine are reserved for faculty. Every building is either weathered stone or brick, while old-fashioned street lamps light the narrow, cobblestone streets that run through the neighborhood. Coupled with the crisp, fall weather that has turned the leaves every shade of orange imaginable, the place practically screams fairy tale.

My phone buzzes and still lost in thought, I swipe to accept before even checking the number.

"Hello, this is Barlow," I say, totally expecting Audra on the other end.

But it turns out that I'm wrong. "Dr. Milligan, this is Patty from Dean Ward's office. How are you today?" asks the woman in a heavy upstate dialect.

"Oh. Uhm. I'm good, thank you," I stammer, not quite used to being called by my professional title yet since being awarded the degree just a few months ago.

"Good. Good," Patty says robotically. "Well, I'm calling because Dean Ward was wondering if you'd be able to make your meeting today earlier than we'd previously arranged."

"Earlier?" I repeat as I recall the details of the original plan. I was going to arrive at the rental, get the keys and move in my meager belongings with plenty of time left over to get ready to meet the head of the College of Humanities at seven. If Audra gets here soon, I'd have to scramble, but I could probably make up a little time.

"What are we looking at? Six-thirty?" I ask for clarification.

Patty takes a deep breath. "Actually, it would have to be as soon as possible. Dean Ward had an unexpected event come up and he won't be returning to the office until Monday."

There is absolutely no way that I can meet the man who hired me, a respected molecular biologist and current head of the College, without a shower. He'd probably revoke my contract on the spot based on my smell alone.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to change and I haven't gotten access to my residence—

"Dr. Milligan, the dean would have you come regardless," Patty interrupts before I can postpone the meeting until Monday. "It wasn't a request."

Thankful that she can't see my eyes widen at the overtly blunt statement, I sigh and clear my throat. "Of course. I'll be there in ten minutes?"

"Very good," Patty says. "See you then."