Page 69 of The Academy
“All I could think about over the weekend was how much I wanted you to see this,” East says. “But we should probably go back up.”
“I’m sorry if I sounded territorial,” Charley says. “This is your project…”
“Ourproject,” East says. “Next I have to work on the bathroom, build a bar, create a template for the granite, and get some furniture down here.”
Even though Charley is impressed by the floors and the chandelier, she holds no expectations of these next steps happening.
“There was something else I wanted to ask you,” East says.
She cocks an eyebrow. Part of her is always waiting for East to ask her to write one of his papers or dig him out of his hole in history class.
“Do you know about the Kringle?”
Charley blinks. The only Kringle she knows about is the breakfast pastry filled with almond marzipan that they sell at Trader Joe’s over the holidays. Her father used to eat the entire thing by himself.
“It’s the night before we leave for break,” East says. “Evensong in the chapel followed by a party in the Egg. People dress up; it’s upperclassmen only. And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”
Charley stares at East, trying to determine whether or not this is a joke. She has never heard of the Kringle, though who would tell her? She has no friends. Is East asking her to attend a school function with him? This is a prank or a gotcha, or something crueler. This is Stephen King’s Carrie being crowned prom queen before they dump a bucket of pig’s blood over her head.
East takes a step closer and lays a hand on her cheek. “Just say yes.”
His expression is earnest. Either that or she’s the world’s biggest idiot. If that’s the case, so be it. All the girls on her floor are watchingLove Actually—but Charley is living it. This is love, actually.
“Yes,” she says.
Zip Zap alert:Royce Stringfellow turned in a Hawthorne paper that he wrote using ChatGPT.
When Rhode Rivera reads the post, he thinks,Shit.
He’s making himself a cup of instant coffee in his room because he’s trying to avoid bumping into Chef Haz at the Paddock; Rhode still owes him a balance of eight hundred dollars for the disastrous dinner date with Simone. Rhode goes to his laptop and brings up Royce’s essay, which compares Hester Prynne to Anna Karenina. Rhode had been so impressed by the choice of topic, never mind the essay, that he’d awarded Royce an automatic A. Rhode rereads the essay: Does it sound like AI wrote it? The vocabulary is impressive, the structure impeccable, the comparisons between the heroineselite—but these are hallmarks of Royce’s usual work. Does it sound like Royce’s voice? Rhode would have to go back and read Royce’s other essays, and who has time for that? Not Rhode. He has to wrap up Hawthorne this week and get throughThe Cruciblebefore Christmas break. (He has dedicated an entire semester to old white men at the board’s insistence, but next semester will be different!)
Rhode isn’t going to discipline Royce Stringfellow due to some baseless claim on Zip Zap.
Before Rhode’s C-period class begins, Royce comes skulking into Rhode’s classroom.
“Mr. Rivera,” he says, “I came to beg forgiveness. I did use ChatGPT to write my essay.”
Rhode stands up. Royce Stringfellow is aptly named—he’s tall and rangy with pale hair and pasty skin. Today, he has brown circles under his eyes and a mess of cowlicks. “You’re an exceptional student, Royce. Why would you do that?”
Royce sits on the Harkness table, letting his long legs dangle. “Woman trouble,” he says. “I’ve been hanging out with Tilly Benbow since the start of school and, as you probably saw on Zip Zap, she’s been sexting with someone off camp.”
Yes, Rhode saw the post, but he doesn’t want to know any of the particulars. “I can empathize with woman trouble,” he says. Rhode hasn’t had a meaningful conversation with Simone since their date; if he thought that being a good sport about her poor showing would win him points, he was wrong.
“I’ll rewrite the essay on a different topic,” Royce says. “Maybe compare Hester Prynne with Emma Bovary? I’ll write it in front of you.” Royce gives Rhode a beseeching look. “Just please don’t give me a zero. My GPA is basically my only friend right now.”
Rhode considers this request. The kid blatantly cheats, gets caught by the mysterious, omniscient eyes of Zip Zap, but instead ofdenying it (which is what Rhode himself might have done), Royce admits the truth and offers to correct his ways. Rhode thinks of Tilly Benbow sending nudes out into the scary world beyond Tiffin.
“That’s fine, Royce,” Rhode says. “See me after school and you can write a new essay in here.”
Royce blinks away tears. “Thanks, Mr. Rivera,” he says. “You’re a king.”
Zip Zap alert:Our beloved academy’s name has been dragged through the national mud. Clickherefor link.
Audre exhales. What isthisall about? She opens the link and is taken to an Instagram post of The Cut,New Yorkmagazine’s online style/culture/power brand. The headline reads: “Is Tiffin Academy’s #2 Ranking inAmerica Todaya Sham?” The caption goes on to describe ISNEC’s inquiry. “The coalition believes the number two spot may have been bought rather than earned, and they’re seeking answers from journalists atAmerica Today. How did the school jump seventeen spots in only one year?”
Audre clenches a fist. As if the inquiry itself isn’t bad enough, now the whole world knows about it. It doesn’t matter what the inquiry reveals, the mere suggestion of pay-for-play will be all anyone remembers.Well,Audre thinks,Worthless has exacted his revenge: Tiffin’s reputation has been effectively sullied.
Before Audre can call out for Cordelia, she appears in the doorway of Audre’s office. “There’s a reporter from theNew York Timeson the phone,” she says, “asking if you have a comment on The Cut’s post.”
