You square your shoulders and smile inwardly at your foresight in recording every second of your vehement denial of the outrageous charge against you.
But first, you make your voice contrite. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Dean Green, Professor Throne. It was thoughtless of me, and I won't try to justify it."
Your words are met with stony silence from all quarters, which unsettles you.
"Look, I've made some mistakes in my life," you say. "What college student hasn't? But cheating isn't one of them. You see, time travel is my dream, and I've found a way to make it real."
Dean Green's face twists into scorn. Holding up your temporal-physics lab book for dramatic effect, you forge ahead. "I owe my key conceptual breakthrough to Professor Thorne." You turn all your charm on her. "Dr. Thorne, you've been instrumental in guiding my thinking as to the very nature of time and space."
She looks genuinely touched. Darien crosses his arms defensively.
On you go with your big opening for your docudrama. You're pitch-perfect in the leading role. "I've also nearly completed constructing a working prototype of a time machine."
They all trade skeptical glances among themselves.
"I have no intention of revealing my trade secrets to any of you," you continue. "Nor do I care if you believe me or not. You'll have no choice when I bring back my irrefutable proof from 67 million years ago. I'll be content to let the body of my scientific achievements speak for me."
Dean Mean cuts you off with a haughty "Enough. I've made my decision. It's not open to debate."
Dean Mean rises to his full six feet four inches and presses both fists into the blotter on his desk. His knuckles go white. "Do you think this is a joke?" he roars. Your mind blanks on any possible response. You stare down intently at the ornate carpet in front of your feet. "Well, do you, Lokua Sale?"
You can barely manage to get out two words. "No, sir."
He points a beefy finger at you. "I am hereby expelling you for cheating, effective immediately. My decision is final."
Gulp