"Plagiarized from you? What proof do you even have?" one of them asked, smirking. "You couldn’t even get a scholarship. What could you possibly have written that’s worth copying?"
"Yeah, right. He’s rich. Why would he steal your work? Get over yourself."
"I think she’s just making it up to mess with him," another said. "People like her don’t deserve a diploma! Sir, you should kick her out!"
Before I could even respond, some of the students grabbed my crutches and tossed them out the door.
I hobbled over, the sound of laughter following me.
"Hey, Savannah, your problem isn’t your leg, it’s your brain!" someone laughed. "You walk like one of those characters with cerebral palsy!"
"She waddles like a duck!" another added. "How’s she even writing papers? She could barely make money selling herself!"
"And don’t forget last time," one of them chimed in. "I saw her when I tore her clothes off. She’s got a decent figure, maybe she can sell herself for something after all."
No one stepped in. The lecturer stood by, probably thinking this was all just some entertainment. He probably had orders from the university director to back Scott no matter what.