I might kill someone over that….
I screenshot the spreadsheet and text the image to Ethan.
I found what Emma was hiding. SAT scam. I have a new theory.
The Instagram logo winks up at me. I tap in, navigate to my DMs and to the thread with Kaila. She dropped every hint, I realize. That it was odd that Emma had been at the February ACT exam to poison Jason Wang. And she was dating Tyler, she’d said. I type a message.
Emma was running an SAT scam and Tyler was her male test-taker, right? I found her secret spreadsheet, and she had a copy of my key for the room with the ID maker at the office in Austen. Is that why she became friends with me?
I have to stop myself before I word-vomit more of my thoughts and feelings into the thread. A door slams shut. Shit. Someone’s out there. Hastily I hop up, flip the light switch to stop light from spilling through the crack under the door. With nothing but the screen’s illumination to guide me, I download a copy of the spreadsheet and email it to myself, making sure to delete the sent email from the cloud, just in case.
I think about Cataldo finding Emma’s tracker. The FBI. Should I delete it, protect Emma’s memory and the college admissions chances of everyone involved? Does Emma even deserve it? Do any of the cheaters on her list?
My finger hovers over the delete command. I do have a copy of the spreadsheet now….
Deleting evidence echoes in my mind. I can’t. If I’m lucky, the FBI will miss it. Assume Emma was really into charity.
My phone vibrates, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Ethan’s texted back: Are you sure? Meet me in the atrium ASAP.
I slam the laptop shut and shove everything back onto the shelf. Peek my head around the corner and see that Cathy is blessedly not back yet. I make a break for the main door and walk on autopilot. I text Ethan.
Here early. I’ll grab a table.
I don’t notice the hush that has fallen in the atrium. I look up to find a few dozen eyes on me. What the—?
And then I see the Ivies. What’s left of us, anyway. Avery, Margot, and Sierra are holding court in front of the dining hall, arms folded over their chests. They’re a human chain of grim disapproval. Avery breaks form, reaching to retrieve something from the table behind her. She whips it forward, pulling the pages of the Claflin Ledger taut so I can see the front-page spread. A story about Emma is above the fold. And below that is the college acceptances feature that throws to an inside page for the full list.
“Uh, hi?” I say, even though my every instinct is telling me to turn tail and run.
“So, Harvard. Congrats.” Avery’s words crackle with barely contained rage.
Shit, fuck, dammit. How?! I want to grab the paper from her, but my hands are shaking.
“It’s complicated” is all I can manage.
“You lied.” Avery’s teeth are clenched tight. Margot and Sierra shift almost imperceptibly, but I see it. They angle in tighter to Avery. Margot’s eyes go hard. Bear trap activated. Sierra bites her lip and avoids eye contact. It’s them against me.
“I can explain.” My voice is getting smaller. Quieter. I don’t want everyone to see this, to hear it. It’s lunchtime, and what’s left of the student body seems to all be here, heading toward the dining hall. My shoulders itch under their stares. I know all eyes are on me. I’m gripping the straps of my backpack so hard that my knuckles have gone white.
“Go ahead. Explain,” Avery’s challenge rings out.
And suddenly, years of frustration and not speaking my mind, kowtowing to Avery and the Claflin status quo and what everyone else wants and expects, rise up inside me. They lied straight to my fucking face. Excluded me at every turn. I burst.
“Harvard was my dream school, too, you know. You don’t own it. I always wanted to go there, which I told you. But you made me pick another school. Because everything, always, is about you.”
“You were totally fine with Penn,” Avery says in defense. “You acted like you were okay with it. How was I supposed to know? I can’t read your mind.”
“You didn’t notice because you didn’t want to. You are myopically selfish.”
“Ooh, SAT word,” Avery snaps back. “Too bad that didn’t help you get a higher score.”
Sierra sucks in a breath, and Margot looks at the floor.
“Do you really want to be bringing up SAT scores with me, considering…? Emma even gave you a discount.” I let it hang. I’m vague enough that everyone here doesn’t know the big secret, but Avery and Margot know I’ve got their number. Avery appears unshaken. She smirks.
“Jealous? But then again, you clearly didn’t need a good SAT score to nab that spot at Harvard. I’m betting you gave them a sob story in your essay. How hard it is to go to school with so many rich kids. Break out the tiny violins.”
I snort. A literal snort. “Like you wrote about all those inspirational Haitian children?” That has her bristling, cheeks going red. Sierra shifts beside her, just so. Away. “Maybe I got into Harvard because I’m good enough and you aren’t.” Cards are out on the table now. “And you don’t get to be upset that I didn’t tell you. Look what happened to Emma when she told you. You acted like a psycho bitch. Are you really surprised I kept it a secret?”
“Fine.” Avery’s mouth is tight. Her eyes flash with heat. “I’m a bitch. Okay. But lying to my face about Penn, working on RD essays with me—that makes you the bad person.” She jabs her finger in the direction of my chest. I rock back on my heels even though she’s feet away from me. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am applying to other places RD,” I shoot back. Avery can call me a lot of things, but not a liar. “Unlike all you rich assholes, I have to. There’s no college fund for me. I need to compare scholarship offers. Harvard gapped me.”
“Oh, boo-hoo, you’re poor.” She mimics drying her eyes. “God, you never stop complaining about that.”
“Is that why I was left off the Rich Bitches group text, then? By the way, great job deleting that off a dead girl’s phone. Evidence tampering is such a good look.”
My words are a tsunami, knocking back every single Ivy a step.
It all comes to me in a rush, that Sierra must have grabbed Emma’s phone and deleted the text. She was the only Ivy who had access to the body before the cops got there. Probably did it while I called 911. And the backup only gave me older messages. Who knows what texts she deleted? Evidence against one of them, or all of them.