Page 45 of The Academy
She’s our third,Ruby Banerjee said.Maybe not forever, but for now.
It was evident from her parents’ tone that they expected Davi to handle this announcement withequanimity(“mental calmness and composure”). After all, the Banerjees were fashion people, constantly on the lookout for new creative inspiration. That’s all this was, really, Davi’s father assured her. An outlet for their artistic personalities. Out of Office’s brand tagline was “where cutting edgemeets comfort,” and though a third person added to their romantic and sexual relationship might seem odd at first, Davi would grow used to it.
Davi was repulsed by what she witnessed in the house the days before she returned to Tiffin. She had hoped Saylem (the name alone made Davi shudder) would slip in and out of the house discreetly, but she was everywhere all the time—in the kitchen at six a.m. completely nude, preparing a pot of tea that she then carried on a tray to Davi’s parents’ bedroom; kissing Ruby’s neck while Ruby checked her email, which would then turn into a full-blown make-out session. The house suddenly had a musky, nearly fishy odor, and Davi would hear her father moaning behind the closed door of his office. Davi fought back images of lips and tongues and engorged genitals, her parents intertwined with this alabaster foreigner like slippery eels. Saylem was like a siren who was luring Davi’s formerly cool and aloof parents to the underworld. (Davi had chosenThe Odysseyfor her summer reading.)
It might have been more palatable if Saylem had been interesting, but she was nothing more than a very pale, extremely affected mynah bird who repeated Davi’s parents’ thoughts and views back to them in a way they must have found seductive.
The day before Davi flew back to school, she cut off all her hair. Her parents barely noticed.
Davi started puking the first week of school, though not all the time, not after every meal—just when she felt the urge to be empty. To be cleaned out. To be in fucking control.
Now she’s familiar with every out-of-the-way bathroom on campus, though her preference is this one, on the third floor of the Sink. No one is ever here.
Davi rinses out her mouth, washes her hands, regards herself in the mirror. She has scoured both Meditation TikTok and Mindfulness TikTok, but neither helped.
As she leaves the Sink, she receives a text from Willow Levy:Charley Hicks’s stepfather is a total daddy. Come see.
It figures,Davi thinks. It figures that Charley Hicks, who is too arrogant to care what anyone here thinks, would have a hot stepdad while Davi has her parents’ human sex toy to contend with.
She can’t wait for this weekend to be over.
By the time Simone Bergeron reaches the top of the fifth flight of winding, wrought-iron stairs that lead to the roof of the chapel, she’s sucking wind—but not so for Mr. Stringfellow, Royce’s father, who informs Simone that he rises every morning at five to ride his Peloton, then goes for a three-mile run along the Charles, no matter the weather. He checks his Fitbit as Simone catches her breath.
Mr. James, who leads a tour to the chapel roof only during Family Weekend, pushes open a heavy metal door and Simone and the parents step out into mellow sunshine.
There are oohs and aahs as the parents move toward the crenellated walls and gaze out at the campus, spread below them like a patchwork quilt. They have a bird’s-eye view of the playing fields, the Pasture, the long drive lined with white horse fencing, the Schoolhouse, the Manse, the Paddock, the Sink, and the Teddy. They can see the white tent where everyone else is gathered for the reception. (Simone should be there, but Cordelia Spooner assured her that the tour was a better use of her time.Just don’t stand too close to the edge!Cordelia said, in a voice that made it sound like that was exactly what she wanted Simone to do.)
For some reason, Simone thinks, Cordelia Spooner has it out for her.
The parents whip out their phones and Simone does as well, but there’s a bottleneck at the best vantage point, so she ventures to the adjacent wall, which overlooks the dorms.
She sees someone—a student? A faculty member?—heading down the outdoor stairs in the rear of Classic South, the stairs that lead to the cellar. Simone zooms the lens of her phone in. It’s East.
Simone waves to Mr. James. “Thank you so much for this, but duty calls.” She tries to pull open the metal door, but it won’t budge, so she’s forced to accept help from Mr. Stringfellow.
Mr. James calls out, “Be careful going down, missy. Watch your step.”
As Simone hurries down the staircase, she considers bringing a complaint against Mr. James for the inappropriate way he addresses her (first “sweetheart” and now “missy”?), though Simone knows she won’t do this because she is far from innocent herself.
She race-walks over to the dorms, praying that nobody from the chapel tour sees her the way she saw East. And also, what is she doing? The sun is starting to set, and she’s expected at the Paddock for the steak dinner; she’ll go straight there as soon as she figures out what East is up to.
She descends the outdoor stairs and yanks open the cellar door. She turns on the light of her phone, though this time she knows where she’s going—to the door in the far back corner. She opens it and descends the stairs until she’s in the brick tunnel.
“Hello?” she calls out. “East?”
She hears nothing so she moves forward andbam! Out of nowhere, there he is in front of her. She nearly drops her phone.
“Merde!”she says. “What are you doing down here again?”
He gives her a lazy grin. “What areyoudoing down here again?”
Does she need to remind him that she’s the teacher and he’s the student? He has one hand behind his back; he’s hiding something—an unlit joint, a flask of Jim Beam? Simone grabs his arm.“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”she asks.
“Keska say,” he mimics, switching whatever he’s holding into the opposite hand, laughing.
“What is it, East? Hand it over, now.” But Simone’s voice is more playful than it should be, and East keeps switching hands until Simone backs him up against the brick wall. She gazes up at him. “I’m serious. Give it.”
He holds out something shiny and made of metal. It’s a… tape measure?
