The Ivy: Scandal (32 page)

“But I have some new—crucial—information to these proceedings. You see, Callie”—his smile faltered—“is
not
the author of the Insider articles. In fact,
I
—”

“STOP!” Callie screamed suddenly, leaping to her feet. Her heart, which felt as if it had ceased beating the moment he entered the room, began to beat violently.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Lexi’s clear, high voice cut through the air. “I’m sorry, Gregory—I’m sure we can all appreciate that you’ve
been through a lot—but this interruption is simply unacceptable. Disciplinary hearings are supposed to be private proceedings between the accused student and the board.”

“Now, wait just a moment, Ms. Thorndike,” Dean Benedict intervened. “If, ah—Mr. Bolton, isn’t it?—has uncovered some new piece of evidence, then perhaps it would behoove us to hear what the young man has to say?”

“Actually,” Gregory started slowly, appearing confused at the expression on Callie’s face, “I would like to…er…formally request that this board reconvene tomorrow.”

“Reconvene tomorrow?” a faculty member repeated. “When she’s already had six weeks to build her case? Forgive me, but I fail to see how allowing her a little more time could possibly contribute to anything other than to waste our own.”

Callie turned back and saw Lexi nodding fervently.

The professor from the English Department cleared her throat. “Actually, I don’t see the harm in granting what you point out to be simply a
little
more time,” she said. “Especially if, as this Mr. Bolton seems to be saying, new information has come to light.”

Callie stared at the manila folder in front of her, paralyzed by indecision. Slowly she reached to open it as the students and faculty members continued debating, painfully aware of Gregory, who stood only a few inches away. What if this was all a trick? What if he had only pretended to be on the verge of confessing in order to prevent her from showing them her solitary piece of proof?

“Ms. Andrews?”

Her hand froze, hovering over the unpublished draft of the Insider installment.

“If we vote to reconvene here tomorrow,” Dean Benedict continued, “can you affirm that you will attend, ready to argue your case and accept our judgment as final even if you and Mr. Bolton fail to present any compelling additional evidence in the interim?”

She grabbed the article. But what if, a tiny voice pleaded in the back of her head, Gregory had never meant to frame her and had returned, with a plan, to somehow make it right? Meeting the dean’s eyes, Callie started to nod. “Yes,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then it’s settled,” the dean announced a moment later, counting four hands including his own. “You are all free to go, but we will expect you to return again this time tomorrow.”

Much shuffling of papers and scraping of chairs could be heard as the members of the board stood and started gathering their things.

Alexis was the first one out of the room, brushing past Gregory without a word.

After the last faculty member had left, Gregory double-checked the hall and then quickly shut the door. Crossing over to where she still stood, leaning against the table and clutching the Insider installment, he cupped her face in his hands.

He looked too good to be real. His cheeks were flushed; his dark brown hair tousled as if he’d just taken the stairs up to University Hall two at time. Or as if she’d just run her fingers through it. Those blue eyes sparked like an electric current as they held her
gaze, refusing to let go; that tiny crescent-moon-shaped scar stood out white against the line of his jaw, right below his lips.

A full thirty seconds passed as he continued just to stare at her, his smile gradually expanding into a delirious grin.

It was almost enough to make a girl forget all of the terrible things he’d done.

And then he kissed her.

She was melting. The hand that held the article fell limply to her side. Nothing mattered anymore—not the hearing, or his absence, or even that he had been behind the entire mess to begin with. As long as he kept kissing her, she could go on giving in to the impossible fantasy: that in spite of everything, it would all work out in the end.

Breaking away, Gregory started to laugh. “Hi,” he said eventually, still laughing—presumably at her inability to speak.

“Hi?” she echoed, finally finding her voice and pushing him away. “‘Hi’? Is that all you have to say—AFTER EVERYTHING?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, instantly somber. He reached for her hands, but before he could grab the article, she yanked it out of reach.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, dropping his arms in alarm.

“
What’s the matter?
” she cried. “Are you KIDDING ME? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “But it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“Of course you had a choice!” said Callie. “You didn’t have to do any of it! You do realize that I almost got expelled today?”

“Yes, I do.” He stared at her with a funny look on his face. “I got your letter. And clearly you got mine. So then why…?”

“You got my letter?” she blurted.

“Yes.” He continued to watch her closely. “I never stopped checking the PO Box.”

How dare he look like
he
was the one who’d been hurt in all of this? “Well, obviously,” she said, her fists clenching around the article, “things have changed since then.”

“What do you mean, ‘things have changed’?” he demanded. “Are you saying that you
are
with that Bryan guy now—”

“I was never
with
Bryan!” she exploded. “In fact, if you knew how many hours—entire nights, even—I
wasted
thinking about you”—she flushed, silently cursing her phrasing before continuing—“wondering
when
you were coming back,
why
you didn’t bother to leave me with more than a Post-it note, how you still seemed to have a
girlfriend
—”

“I said I was sorry!” he bellowed. “The Post-it—the way I left—that I believed the rumors—that I ever gave up trying to contact you—
I apologize for all of it
! What more do you want?”

“I want to know why,” she said after a beat, her voice deadly quiet. “
Why
did you do it?”

Exhaling angrily, Gregory ran a hand through his hair. “Look,” he started. “By the time I realized the potential ramifications of what I’d done—it was already too late anyway. And then the paper went to press and I had to leave before I had a chance to explain. Again—I’m sorry Callie, okay?
I’m sorry
. I never thought anyone was going to get hurt. And, in the end, I think I’m the only one who really lost anything—”

“What do you mean you’re the only one who really
lost
anything?” Callie practically screamed. “How can you act like what you did doesn’t affect me?
I
almost lost everything—my position, my—”

“Wow,” Gregory interrupted. His expression had turned to stone. “You’re the last person I thought I’d hear that from. Who knew that the trust fund—and the
position
—meant so much to you?”

“What,” said Callie through gritted teeth, “does your stupid
trust fund
have to do with the fact that you
framed me
, cost me my position at the paper, and might still get me kicked out of school?”

“What are you—you don’t think…Oh no—you do! You think I’m the one who…wrote the Insider articles?” His eyes twinkled, almost like he was amused.

Callie’s head was spinning. “Yes,” she said, though she felt far from certain now, “and I have proof.” She held up the article. “Last night I found
this
at the bottom of your trash.”

“What is it?” asked Gregory, reaching for it.

“The unpublished draft of an article that
you
wrote,” snapped Callie, refusing to yield the piece of paper, “but never had a chance to publish like the rest of the Insider installments that you posted using my log-in name and password.”

“I see,” said Gregory. “And you say you found that in my…oh. Yes. That makes sense.”

Callie watched—stunned and infuriated as he, once again, began to laugh. Doubling over, he grabbed his side, saying in between gasps, “If that’s the only reason you’re upset right now—then everything—us—
we
—are going to be—okay!”

“How is everything possibly going to be okay?” Callie cried, hopelessly confused. “I’m about to be expelled!” Either he was more evil than Lexi—hence the laughter—or Callie had seriously missed something. “Are you prepared to tell the judicial board that
you’re
the Ivy Insider?”

“No,” said Gregory, straightening and wiping his eyes. “I’m not.”

“But—”

“I’m not going to tell them it was me,” he continued, “because I didn’t write that or any of the articles.”

“But…” Callie sputtered as he seized her hands, still grinning like this was the best day of his life. “If you didn’t write them—then who did?”

Alessandra was waiting in the common room of C 23 by the time they returned, having responded immediately to Gregory’s text. Her face fell when she saw Callie walk in after him, her arms frozen in midair. “You’re back,” she said after a beat, continuing on course as if to give him a hug.

He held up his hand to stop her. “Alessandra,” he said, “I owe you an apology. Because my father’s lawyers have had me on lockdown, I was unable to do what I should have done, in person, long before I left.” He took a breath. “It’s over,” he said on the exhale. “I think you already knew that, but I’m sorry just the same that it got dragged out under the circumstances.”

Alessandra seemed less surprised and more hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar, avoiding Callie’s eyes.

“Now I believe it’s your turn to apologize,” he said, “to Callie.”

“Why should I apologize to
her
?” Alessandra demanded, looking half-indignant, half-afraid.

“How about for framing me and trying to have me expelled?” asked Callie. “Or lying to make me believe that Gregory had called you? Or pretending to be nice to me and Matt so that you could steal my password when I helped you set up your account on the first day of COMP?”

“I—you…” Alessandra appeared stricken. “Can’t—prove anything…”

“Actually, Alessandra, we can,” said Gregory. “I can’t believe I never gave a second thought to the way you were pumping me for information after every Pudding event. I assumed it must have been because you wanted to belong so badly or were genuinely interested in how I’d spent my day. But that wasn’t the real reason, was it?” he asked. “Just like you never really cared about me either.”

“I do care about you!” Alessandra cried, bursting into tears. “I completely fell for you! I wasn’t supposed to, but I did!”

Gregory seemed stunned into silence. Callie couldn’t help but wonder exactly how many teary love confessions he’d endured in his eighteen years. No doubt this wasn’t the first.

Practically sobbing now, Alessandra sank onto the couch. Eventually Gregory sat down next to her, keeping about a foot of space between them. Callie stayed where she was by the door, regretting that her mission for a quick confession had somehow landed her smack in the middle of a nasty breakup.

But not all of Alessandra’s tears were for Gregory. “I didn’t
know,” she managed between cries, “that you were—could have been—expelled!”

Callie stared at her. “Yes…you did!” she declared, suddenly remembering something. “That’s why you told me—at the Spee—that I should enjoy my time here while I still could!”

Alessandra shook her head. “Didn’t know—at first—when I agreed…” She let out a wail. “She
made
me!”

“
Who
made you?” Callie asked. “What? Are you saying that somebody else was involved?”

Alessandra continued to shake her head, dissolving into hysterics.

Callie looked at Gregory. Wordlessly he got up and went to the bathroom, returning momentarily with a box of Kleenex.

“Alessandra,” he said, handing her several tissues, “we need you to calm down.”

“Yes—stop crying,” said Callie. “Please.” Alessandra’s tears were only making Callie feel sorry for her and feeling sorry for the girl who had gone to such great lengths to ruin her life was, in turn, only making her more furious.

They waited in silence while Alessandra tried to get a hold of herself. She seemed to go through at least half of the tissues before the steady stream of water leaking from her eyes gradually slowed to a drip.

Callie came and perched on the other couch opposite Alessandra and Gregory. “Why me?” she asked quietly.

“It wasn’t personal,” Alessandra murmured. “Not at first, anyway. I needed someone who was in the Pudding and had access
to the
Crimson
just in case…well, something like this happened.”

“And you saw an easy way to learn my password on the first day of COMP by pretending to be late and then asking for my help getting set up on the computers?” Callie prompted.

“I
was
late that day,” Alessandra replied. “You typing in your password right in front of me was just luck—or stupidity, depending on how you look at it.”

Callie bristled. “So when exactly did you decide that instead of just impersonating me you would try to have me expelled, too?”

“It was never…a decision,” said Alessandra. “When I started writing the articles, I didn’t think that I would get caught, meaning that you would never get in trouble. I actually did like you, that is until I found out that you’d lied to my face about—” She blushed. No point in stating the obvious, since he was currently sitting next to her.

Callie glanced at him, wondering if she would ever go to such insane lengths—like trying to have someone expelled—just to eliminate the competition. Immediately answering no would be a lot easier if he would just stop smiling every time he caught her staring.

“Why target the Pudding?” asked Callie, shaking herself. “Maybe you didn’t have anything against me in the beginning, but it seems like you definitely had it out for the club.”

Alessandra scoffed. “If you read the articles, then you should know why.”