The Never List

school in a state where no one they knew even had a vacation home. But somehow Christine managed to prevail and even got a full tuition scholarship to the University of Oregon, thanks to the wonders of the Brearley exmissions office. Though her parents relented, they must have secretly hoped that after one semester she’d realize her mistake and transfer to the hallowed halls of Yale, where she belonged.
    Once at school in Oregon, however, Christine felt enormous relief. She was exhilarated being on her own. She had managed to extricate herself gracefully from her protected world, and now she was embarking on a journey of total reinvention.
    That first semester, though, despite her best intentions, she was forced to dip into her trust fund. She took as little as possible, living frugally, determined to repay it as soon as she could. She looked for her first part-time job. She lived on ramen noodles and canned tomato soup. And all the while, slowly and steadily, she turned herself into just another kid on campus, in jeans and a sweatshirt, living in a dorm room with linens from Target.
    There in Oregon she was able to return to the blissfully anonymous state of her youth, before all the trouble broke out. No one there seemed to have read the Wall Street Journal articles about her father, or at least they didn’t recognize her last name. She never volunteered information about where she’d come from or who she really was. If asked, she said she was from Brooklyn and that her parents owned a retail shop.
    It all might have turned out perfectly for Christine had she not developed an interest in psychology in her second year and, in particular, in her brilliant and dynamic psychology professor, Jack Derber. She had enrolled in his class by chance, to satisfy a social science requirement. But after the first day she was hooked.
    She would tell us, her voice still bearing traces of that initial awe, how he’d virtually cast a spell over the classroom, how the students would sit rapt with attention, as he made Psych 101 sound like a new religion or at least a profound calling. He was charismatic, in a calm, hypnotic way, his voice soothing everyone into accepting ideas they’d never even considered sane before.
    At the start of each class, he’d pace back and forth slowly in the front of the room, his hands clasped behind him, lifted only occasionally to stroke his thick, dark hair, as he formulated histhoughts. The hall was full—visitors sat cross-legged in the aisles, and faculty from other departments stood in back. Several minicassette recorders had been placed near the podium. In any normal lecture, the students would have spent this time chattering, shuffling papers. But for Professor Jack Derber, they sat in a respectful silence, waiting for his smooth, full lips to speak, for his powerful voice to echo in the air. When he finally began, turning to face the crowd as his penetrating crystal-clear blue eyes squinted out above the tiered stadium seating, his words were inevitably polished, succinct, brilliant. His acolytes took notes furiously, not wanting to miss a thing.
    Christine, in particular, was thrilled by him, staying after class to ask questions, working on special projects, meeting with him during office hours. She’d pull all-nighters on papers for that course, struggling to bring her text to life, to do justice to the overpowering phenomenon of his lectures.
    He, in turn, had noticed Christine right away. She sat in the front row, and even though she’d worked hard to shed the gloss of her luxurious upbringing, something must have made her stand out. Something that revealed her high pedigree, that showed her exceptional breeding and poise. Something that suggested a certain delicacy of feeling from being cosseted her entire life. Something that he wanted to break.
    Jack’s instincts were finely tuned, indeed, and he must have noticed she was trying too hard, that she was flustered in his presence. He must have felt that she was more vulnerable than even the freshmen. Maybe he could see she didn’t fit in with the others, that she was looking for a place in life different from where she’d come. And as a matter of fact, he had just the spot.
    So midway through the semester, he offered her a highly coveted position: his research assistant. Christine was elated. Not only would she be working with one of the most admired professors oncampus, but the job’s stipend meant that she could stop taking