He was halfway to Katy’s house when his phone rang again. This time, it was a number that he didn’t recognize. But since it was a local Cambridge area code, he answered.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello. David?”
David stopped walking in surprise. “Professor Bell?”
“I apologize for bothering you on a weekend,” Bell replied. “I got your number from the student profile you filled out at the beginning of the semester.”
“Of course. How can I help you, Professor?”
“Well,” Bell replied slowly, sounding uncertain. “I was actually hoping I could see you in person for a meeting in my office. I’ve got the department head here. It’s about the internship.”
What horrible timing. He wanted to be with Katy. She needed him. When David didn’t immediately reply, Bell went on.
“It should only take a moment of your time, David.”
David looked up the street in the direction of Katy’s house. Whatever Bell had to say, it must’ve been important for him to call on a weekend. And with the department head in attendance, no less. Besides, he said it would be brief. And then he could get to Katy and what was even more important.
“I’m on my way,” David replied.
He hung up the phone and texted Katy.
“Bell needs me for something. Said it wouldn’t take long. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you.”
He turned and reluctantly headed in the direction of the Old Yard instead. Katy texted back shortly thereafter.
“I understand. Love you, too.”
David walked briskly. The gray and brown of winter had slowly begun to melt into a soft, verdant green. The grass was growing again, and the tall, stately trees of the Old Yard were beginning to bud with new foliage. The sight improved his mood.
I still have Katy. And I’ve gotten the internship that I wanted. I have great friends, and now I even have family again. I’m still the luckiest man in the world. And it’ll all be okay.
David made it up the stone steps of the economics building and turned toward the department’s hall. Professor Bell’s door was open. He walked in to see Bell standing beside a man that David had only ever seen in passing: Dr. Bonnar, the department head.
“Good morning, Professors,” David said as he walked in.
Neither man smiled at him or offered any greeting at all. Bell looked almost morose.
“Shut the door, David,” he said, his voice dull and hard.
David felt his stomach sink. Was something wrong?
“You can take a seat, Mr. Rosen.” Bonnar’s tone was sharp.
Anxiously, David took a seat to stare back at the professors from across Bell’s desk. He waited.
“Mr. Rosen, we’ve brought you in to talk about your application essay,” Bonnar started.
David nodded wordlessly, but his head was spinning with thoughts. Why? The internship entries are closed, and I got it. Didn’t I?
Bell spoke next. “David, is there anything that you would like to tell us about the essay?”
David was drawing a blank. He sat dumbly, wondering how to reply. Tell them? About . . . what? He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Professors. I don’t understand.”
“I see we won’t be taking the route of integrity today,” Bonnar inserted admonishingly. “Which is a shame. Professor Bell here had many good things to say about you and your work ethic.”
David balked. If he hadn’t understood what was happening ninety seconds ago, he definitely had no clue what this was about now. He was smart enough to realize that he was being insulted and accused of something. But . . .
“What?” David asked. His heart had begun to thud madly in his chest. What exactly are they accusing me of?
“David, the department was impressed by your essay. Very impressed, in fact. But we have since come across some fairly clear evidence that large portions of your paper were plagiarized, almost verbatim, from a third party,” Bell said gently. “And I’m afraid that the department has zero tolerance for this type of behavior.”
Bell turned his computer monitor around to show David a web page. It was the personal blog of an economics professor, from the looks of it, and it was open to a blog post dated from January. David looked up briefly at Bell and Bonnar, who were looking down at him expectantly, and then began to read the post. Most of it he didn’t recognize. But, looking closer, several lines stuck out as very familiar.
He had written them himself. They had been in his paper. How were they here . . .?
David felt sick. He had never been accused of cheating in his life. Because he had never once cheated. Not even as a child. And he wouldn’t dare do it in university. Not only was it against his values and everything he had been taught, but it was pointless to him. He wanted to learn and earn his grades. Not have them handed to him. So he couldn’t understand how this blog seemed to prove otherwise.
“Sir, I . . . I didn’t cheat. I wrote that essay on my own. I don’t know what this is.”
Bonnar shook his head. “Honestly, Mr. Rosen, you shouldn’t test your luck. I have a mind to ask you to leave the program entirely.”
David’s eyes bulged. Leave economics? After two years working toward his degree at Harvard? Over a false accusation? Even if it appeared to provide credible evidence against him, he wasn’t going to stand for something like this
“Professor Bonnar, I’m not sure how this happened. I swear that I wrote that essay without any help or any cheating. It must’ve been a coincidence.”
“That’d be quite the coincidence, Mr. Rosen. A professor posts something just the day before you turn in your essay, containing many of the same lines—verbatim. How would you explain that?” Bonnar countered.
He had a point. What could explain that? A malicious prank pulled by someone who didn’t care for him? Had this other professor somehow plagiarized him? It was all preposterous. How would this blogger have known what David was writing before he’d even turned his application in?
And how likely was it that they could’ve written several of the exact same lines separately? One in a billion chance? One in a trillion?
There was nothing David could say. And these men knew it.
“In any case,” Bonnar went on condescendingly, “Professor Bell insisted that this was a one-time mistake for you. So you will be able to continue, but consider this your only warning.”
David sat in confusion, trying to process what was happening. But words failed him in his stunned, embarrassed state. He couldn’t argue more—it would only make him look foolish unless he had some kind of proof. But he was still stuck on how. How could something like this happen?
Bonnar straightened his tie and made to leave. “The market internship is for a class of student that values honesty and hard work, Mr. Rosen. As such, we are rescinding your offer. It’s a terrible shame, but I hope you learn something from this experience.”
And with that parting shot, Bonnar strolled out of the room.
David turned to Bell in shock and unease.
“I’m sorry, David,” Bell said. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.”
“Professor, I didn’t cheat,” David stammered in reply. “I’ve never cheated. I don’t understand. I can show you my internet search history. I can provide witness statements.” You’re just grasping for straws now. “Anything that could prove my innocence. Please. There has to be an appeals process.”
But Bell only shook his head. “I know you’re upset, but I’m not sure appealing will do you any good. The original source of those quotes is very strong evidence. Besides, the appeals process only covers academic, university-sanctioned work. The markets internship is considered a third party.”
David breathed out in defeat and disappointment. If there were a way he could appeal to prove his innocence, he would, but it seemed that in this case there might not be. Which meant that his last hope for proving his innocence and retaining his internship was gone. He gritted his teeth, looking down at the fl
oor.
Bell looked at him, his eyes disappointed. “I would’ve hoped that you could’ve at least been honest with me. I know you’re under a lot of pressure this semester, so, while I can’t tolerate cheating, I could’ve empathized with your position, David.”
David sighed, keeping hold of the part of himself that just wanted to repeat the truth over and over, to beg Bell to believe he was innocent. There was no reasoning with anyone, it seemed. It just made him look like more and more of a liar. And what was the point if there was no process to appeal?
“Keep your chin up, David. Bonnar was right: this is simply a lesson to learn.” Bell picked up a stack of papers from his desk and began to straighten them. “I’ll see you Monday.”
He was being dismissed. But as he walked out of the room, David felt more like he was being cast out. As a liar and a crook.
As a cheater.
21
Katy
Cassie had asked Katy several times if she was sure she’d be okay alone. Even though she’d made breakfast plans with a girl from Abnormal Psychology, her cousin had assured her, she could always cancel them. But every time, Katy had answered in the affirmative.
“Yes. Of course. I’ll be fine.”
But that wasn’t exactly the truth, was it?
Katy didn’t want to hold Cassie back, but, in all honesty, she really didn’t want to be alone. The gravity of what happened in the park had begun to sink in. If the photo files were still out there and intact somehow, then Katy’s whole life was about to change. The press would have a field day with the news. The “Ice Princess” no more—she’d soon be called “wild” or “party girl” by the press, “corrupted” by her people, and by her parents? She didn’t even want to think about it.
She’d been through this type of scandal before. As hard as their PR had tried, news of Alexei’s betrayal had leaked, and the media firestorm that it caused had sent Katy into hiding for a while. It was the whole reason she had wanted to get away from Lorria and the public eye, to blend in with normal people for a change.
Won’t it be ironic if that decision leads to an even bigger scandal?
Sitting on her bed, Katy checked her phone again. It had only been a few minutes since David had redirected his course, telling Katy he needed to go in for a meeting with Bell first. And of course Katy understood. But it didn’t make being alone any easier.
She tossed the phone beside her and sighed. Then she looked at her laptop, sitting open on the desk.
Are you really going to do this again, Katy?
She stood and walked to her desk. Hovering over the laptop, she refreshed the top stories on Lorria’s official news site. A fluff piece on a young Lorrellian Olympic gold medalist. A favorable report on the Queen’s charitable donations. Weather. Stocks.
Nothing on Princess Katerina’s sexy romp in the woods.
In another tab, she refreshed a popular royalty gossip site. There was nothing about her there, either. Yet.
Perhaps the camera and photos really had been destroyed. Or . . .
Maybe the pap was commissioning someone to extract data from corrupted files at this very moment. Maybe they were past that, simply lightening and retouching photos. Maybe they were already being shopped. Or, most horrifying of all, perhaps they had already been extracted, retouched, sold . . . and now some journalist’s computer cursor was hovering, just about to hit “publish.”
Katy felt her blood chill at the thought. What happened with Al had been embarrassing, more than anything. But to take a moment of private intimacy and splash it across world news? It would be a trauma Katy couldn’t really imagine, even after everything she’d grown up with. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She’d never been this vulnerable to the press.
Next she pulled up her Harvard email address, her breath catching in her chest, hoping not to see a frantic message from the royal PR team. But after miserable seconds of buffering, she was relieved to see no such message. Just a few classroom reminders from the university’s online portal, a coupon code from the bookstore, and a message from an unknown address.
Wait. Katy looked at that last one again, feeling her pulse quicken.
From: Marty Elgin. Subject: Broken Camera.
The photographer.
She clicked the email, bracing herself for whatever may lie within.
“Princess, I am consulting with lawyers now regarding my destroyed camera and bodily assault.”
Katy could’ve screamed. You’re lucky that the camera was all David broke, Marty!
She read on. “But, since I think it’s in your family’s best interests, I’d like to offer a truce: pay for my camera and I won’t pursue the matter.”
She couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. He’d snuck up and taken compromising photos of Katy to sell to the highest bidder—and now he was asking for money?
“My number is below. Please call at your earliest convenience, or I will see you in court. Best, Marty.”
A local number was listed beneath. Katy grabbed her phone with trembling hands. She could wait and do this when David got here, of course, and then she probably wouldn’t feel so upset and anxious. But then again, she had a question that she wanted answered at this very moment.
And there was only one way to do that.
Marty picked up quickly. “Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Elgin?” Katy asked. Her voice trembled, but she cleared her throat and tried to sound strong. She didn’t want this jerk to know how much he had gotten to her.
“Princess? I’m glad you called. I have my account numbers right here for an electronic transfer. Unless you want to do this the hard way.”
It was awful to hear demands from someone so vile. But, as hard as it was to hear his nasal voice, Katy wasn’t new to scandal. And she knew exactly what needed to be negotiated. It was one good thing that came from being the daughter of the Queen.
“You’ll be compensated for the current value of the camera,” Katy replied coolly, feeling her voice strengthen, “but on one condition: you’ll sign over the rights for the photos.”
It seemed like a good start to the conversation, even though Katy knew that the paparazzi would start to demand payment for the photos as well. Anything to keep them from being published.
Marty scoffed. “Princess, if I had those photos, I wouldn’t even be talking to you right now. I would already have them sold for a lot more than whatever you’re about to offer.”
A kind of shock passed through Katy; she couldn’t quite believe it. David had been right. The files must’ve been ruined outright. Which meant . . .
“So the photos are gone? The memory card was ruined? Either way, I want the physical card in return for the payment.”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” came the reply.
Katy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t understand. If the memory card is ruined, then why won’t you release it to me?”
The pap’s voice got petulant. “It’s not ruined. It’s missing.”
Katy’s stomach turned a different direction this time. Missing?
The photographer went on.
“Believe me, I checked before I even got out of the park. Your ‘friend’ must’ve snatched it when it was on the ground. There’s no other explanation.”
David. The photographer thought David had stolen the memory card? What purpose could David possibly have for taking it—and not telling her? The very idea was absurd.
Unless, of course, the memory card had just fallen out in the park. After all, it had been quite dark when the two men scuffled. If that was the case, maybe it was still there. A treasure trove of her worst nightmares, waiting for anybody to pick up and use against her.
Katy knew what she needed to do.
She kept her voice terse. “I’ll have my lawyer draft a nondisclosure agreement. As well as exclusive rights to those photos, should they ever see the light of day. You’ll get your payment upon signature.”
Marty
started to say something in return, but Katy had zero interest in any rebuttals or renegotiations. Besides, now she had other things to attend to. She hung up the phone.
She was shell-shocked from the call, her body shaking, but the important thing at the moment was to continue thinking logically. She’d have to phone her family lawyer and give him some of the details so he could send the photographer an NDA. Katy wasn’t too worried about that; the lawyer was loyal to the family and wouldn’t betray her trust unless absolutely necessary. Which meant her parents didn’t need to know anything. And the cost of the camera would be nominal.
But she needed to go back to the park. If the photographer had been telling the truth about the memory card, and if he truly had checked for it before he got out of the park, then it was still there somewhere.
And Katy didn’t intend to let anyone else find it.
A short rap sounded on Katy’s open bedroom door, announcing David’s arrival.
Katy turned to see David standing there, tall and handsome, and felt a surge of relief overwhelm her. Whatever happened, at least I still have David.
She took the few steps to the door and wordlessly threw her arms around him. She pulled him close, her arms stretched up around his neck, and pressed her head to his chest. After just a second, David’s arms enveloped her, curling around her waist.
They hung there in the doorway, clinging to each other without speaking, for long seconds before Katy pulled away.
“I’m so glad you’re here. You’re not going to believe what just happened.”
* * *
“It’s a little less romantic this time,” Katy joked as they walked through the park, though she couldn’t help that her voice still felt a little bit flat.
David managed a low chuckle, but Katy wasn’t convinced that he saw any humor in the situation. In fact, he seemed particularly morose that morning. More so even than her.
He must be taking the invasion of privacy pretty hard. And who can blame him? He didn’t sign up for any of this.
They were on their way to the scene of the incident. Katy had explained everything about the photographer’s reappearance, except for the bit where he’d accused David of theft, since it was merely a baseless insult, and now they were going to search for the memory card. Perhaps if they could find it, all of their worries could be put to bed.
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