Page 52 of The Academy
She clicks on the email, steeling herself, but quickly realizes she misunderstood. The “pandemic” in question seems to be something called the Zip Zap app, which popped up at the Excelsior School over the weekend “and has likely spread to other boarding schools in the coalition.”
The Zip Zap app is designed for closed communities such as high schools and colleges, with a “geo-fence” of five miles. That would mean only Tiffin, Audre thinks. The nearest town, Haydensboro, is six miles away. The danger with the app is that posts are anonymous and, in past incarnations of similar apps, there have been strings of abuse, cyberbullying, racial and sexual harassment, and bomb threats. Users can vote “up” or “down” on the posts and comment anonymously.
Lots of room for damage and distraction,the email says.I encourage all Heads to be vigilant in quashing student use of Zip Zap. I would suggest a no-tolerance policy. Here at Northmeadow, students who are discovered to have downloaded the app will be disciplined immediately.
Audre scoffs. Isn’t it just like Douglas Worth to tell them all how to do their jobs? He’s a Nervous Nellie, and an alarmist. He led Audre to believe there was something to actually worry about—and instead she’s being fed this nonsense about something called Zip Zap.
As Audre clicks out of the email—she’s certainly not going to respond, nor will she read the reply-alls that will inevitably clog her inbox, thanking Doug for the “heads-up” and his hypervigilance—there’s a knock on her door.
“Yes?” Audre says.
Cordelia Spooner enters holding her cell phone, her eyes as round as plates. “Audre?” she says. “You need to look at this.”
Tiffin somehow has its own Zip Zap app and there’s already one anonymous post.
It reads:“Mrs.” Cordelia Spooner (who, for the record, has never been married) admits students to Tiffin based on their appearance.
Audre laughs out loud, though she can see Cordelia isn’t amused.“Surely you’re not concerned? Really, Cordelia, do you think anyone is going to believe you admit students based on appearance?”
Cordelia’s hand wavers a bit as she holds up the screen. “It’s gaining traction,” she says. It has thirty-seven “ups” and one comment:I can think of a few Tiffin students who prove this theory wrong. Has anyone checked out the third-form boys?
“Aw,” Audre says. “I think the third-form boys are cute.”
Cordelia frowns. “I can’t believe you aren’t taking this seriously.”
“That’s been a rumor for years,” Audre says. “Everyone always jokes about how attractive our student body is.”
Right,Cordelia thinks. She feels an itchy warmth prickling the skin of her chest and neck; she’s certain she’s splotching pink. It has been mentioned before, but nobody has ever connected her name with the phenomenon.
“What about the dig at my name?” Cordelia says.
“Name?” Audre says. “Oh, you mean the ‘Mrs.’? I’d hardly let that bother you.”
Cordelia checks her phone. “It’s at sixty-eight ‘ups.’ How did the kids find out about this?”
“I received an email from Douglas Worth.” Audre grimaces; the man’s name leaves an acidic taste in her mouth. “The app is apparently popping up at all the schools. It spreads like a virus… and you and I both know you can’t treat a virus, you have to let it run its course. The kids will grow bored with this soon enough. But let’s keep an eye on it to make sure no one gets hurt.”
Cordelia bursts into the college counseling office but has to wait because, through the glass wall, Cordelia can see Honey is in with… yes, Annabelle Tuckerman. As she waits for them to finish, she checks her phone: 112 “ups.” Another comment:Those third-form girls, tho.This is followed by the fire emoji. Then, to Cordelia’s horror, a third comment:Maybe “Mrs.” Spooner prefers girls…
Cordelia is about to suffer from full-on hives.
When Annabelle Tuckerman leaves Honey’s office and sees Cordelia, she beams. “Hey, Mrs. Spooner! If you need any help rating applicants, just let me know.” She nudges Cordelia’s arm. “That was a Zip Zap joke.”
“Good morning, Annabelle,” Cordelia says crisply. She enters Honey’s office, closing the door behind her.
“You know I don’t like it when you bother me at work, Cord,” Honey says. “But today, I owe you a thank-you. That child is relentless. I’m tempted to offer the Princeton rep a blow job to just let her in already.”
Cordelia pushes her phone across the desk. “Have you seen this? The Zip Zap app?”
Honey reads the screen and laughs. “On theirappearance?” She passes the phone back and studies Cordelia. “Why do you look like you need a cortisone shot? You’re notupsetabout this, are you? You’re the one who always says the kids treat you like a piece of furniture…”
Cordelia blinks. She has said this in the past, yes—since present Tiffin students have already been admitted, Cordelia is no longer of any use to them. They look right through her. (Except for her corps of tour guides, though this group isn’t the same without Cinnamon Peters’s big Tiffin energy.)
“… so you should be flattered they noticed you.”
“They claim I’ve never been married!” Cordelia says.
Honey lowers her voice. “Well, that’s the truth, isn’t it?”
