Sources Say

by Lori Goldstein

  “No.” Angeline’s voice trembled. “You don’t understand. I signed a confidentiality agreement when I sent in the deposit. This violates it.”

  This cannot be happening.

  How can this be happening?

  She opened her eyes. Leo was heading straight toward her.

  Leo, who’d just been accused by The Shrieking Violet of creating the Frankengirls.

  Accused by Sammy?

  This didn’t make any sense.

  Neither did seeing Cat trailing Leo, who had his green sweatshirt balled up in one hand.

  Riley dismissively flicked her eyes at him. “Didn’t take you for a perv. Your mom really print the Frankengirls posters for you?”

  Leo’s only response was his solemn face turning even graver. He addressed Angeline. “We need to talk.”

  Maxine stepped between them. “Think again. Whatever she says to you winds up in print, so not going to happen.”

  But then, Cat set her hand on Maxine’s forearm. “It’s okay. I’ve got her.”

  It was such a strange, unexpected comment from Cat that Maxine automatically moved aside. It was equally as strange and unexpected that Angeline’s throat ballooned upon hearing it.

  Cat led Angeline and Leo to the newsroom, and though they only numbered three, the space felt even more claustrophobic than usual.

  Leo tossed his sweatshirt onto the table with the ski pole leg. “It’s not me,” he said with resigned defeat.

  “Of course it’s not,” Cat said. “What would you have to gain by writing such things about yourself?”

  “I meant in that video,” Leo said. “At the party. I’m not sure I even went in the living room. First time I saw my good bud, Tad, who just ran me over with a semi, was in the screening room.”

  Cat snatched up the notebook Leo had given her. “Did you take the sweatshirt off? Where might you have left it? Did someone ask to borrow it?”

  Leo shook his head. “I didn’t even wear it to the party. It was humid as hell.”

  “He’s right,” Angeline said. “It was super hot, then freezing in the . . . the screening room. I remember wishing he’d worn it. I can vouch for him. On that . . . and on him being afraid of heights! Leo would never go to the top of the bleachers to tape down photos. And the hand in the video . . . skin tone’s all wrong for Leo. That’s it, Cat. We’ll just go tell Principal Schwartz and—”

  “No one’s going to believe you,” Cat said flatly.

  Her tone set Angeline’s teeth on edge. “Because of those ridiculous stories? Then how about you write something to defend me, for once?”

  “I have to remain objective.”

  “You didn’t just say that.”

  Leo shoved his chair back. “Stop. Just stop. Whoever did this wants to get us in trouble—real trouble. My brother would never . . .” He looked at Angeline with a heaviness that pressed on her chest. “Once the media picks this up, they’re going to be all over my mom. Again. And, turns out, I care about that. Actually, turns out, I feel really, really shitty about that.”

  A sharp rap on the door preceded the appearance of Principal Schwartz, his face lined like a discarded gum wrapper. He thanked Riley, who mouthed a “sorry,” and Angeline nodded in understanding.

  “Small fishing town, they call us, did you know that?” Principal Schwartz bounced his clasped hands against the buttons of his ill-fitting suit jacket. “Boy, do I love it. That first tug on the line, so slight that you could almost miss it. But it’s the only warning you get, and you’ve got to act fast, planting your feet, gearing up for a good fight. Every day until the boats get pulled from the harbor, I try to get out there.” He drilled his eyes into each of theirs. “That is, before you all decided to turn this school into a circus. Now, instead of the ting, ting of the ropes swaying against the mast, I’m deafened by the ting, ting of email after email arriving in my inbox, screaming at how we could be so inept. That sound’s going to haunt me until next spring.”

  Cat cleared her throat. “The inability to find the culprit is hurting all of us. Does the administration have any leads?”

  Principal Schwartz smiled. “Leads? Why, we have our responsible party. Mr. Torres, we’ve already called your parents. Probably best if you come with me to the office.”

  “That’s not fair.” Angeline looked to Cat, who immediately stepped forward.

  “Principal Schwartz,” Cat said. “I’m confident that Leo is being set up. If we put all of our resources into finding out who is behind this sham of a newspaper, I’m sure it’ll lead us to not just the person spreading these rumors but the actual perpetrator behind the Frankengirls.”

  “Uh-huh.” The principal bent a finger toward Leo. “Let’s go, Mr. Torres.”

  “You can’t—” Angeline started.

  “I can. And I can also do this: you’re both disqualified from the student council race.”

  The air whooshed from Angeline’s lungs. She sputtered an unintelligible response while searching Leo’s already sucker-punched face.

  Principal Schwartz continued, “Obviously this business with the Frankengirls takes you off the table, Mr. Torres. But you and Miss Quinn also managed to violate the honesty pledge by lying about your motivations for running in your campaign speeches at a school-sponsored event. In addition to breaking election rules delineated in the student handbook: Mr. Torres by having an outside professional service contribute to the production of campaign material and Miss Quinn by offering bribes in exchange for votes. So you’re both gone, but you’re leaving a legacy nonetheless. Congratulations on taking this election out of the hands of your fellow students.”

  Cat’s brow creased. “But you can’t cancel the election. Students have signed up to run for other positions. That’s in the handbook too.”

  Angeline filled with pride.

  Principal Schwartz cracked a smile. “You are entirely correct. But that handbook also states that if the student body proves unable to act within the behavioral guidelines of this school, the administration can step in. No more vandalizing and stealing posters. No more unsanctioned debates in the lunchroom. No more news vans and retweets and angel wings. We will choose the proper students to lead, because this student body cannot handle the responsibility that goes with participating in an election this year.” He stood in the doorway. “And you can quote me on that, Editor Quinn.”

  Acedia Confronts Its Inner Sloth:

  Controversy Surrounding Student Council Unprecedented in Charter School History

  A SPECIAL REPORT

  Part 5 of 6

  But Acedia did trust a jock. In fact, it trusted many of them. Following the accusations against Torres, the administration interviewed the football players pictured in the now viral video in which Tad Marcus conceived of the Frankengirls. Marcus maintained his innocence pertaining to the enactment of his idea. With the two witnesses on Maxine’s couch backing up Marcus that it was Torres in that infamous green sweatshirt, the guilty party seemed to have been found. Though Torres denied culpability, the administration, which had taken quite a bit of criticism from parents, social media, and the local news, seized on him, suspending him pending a complete investigation. A guilty finding might lead to him being expelled, but the fallout from the accusation reached great heights without it.

  Media attention expanded outside the Boston metro area when CNN picked up the story, which sparked the usual copycat rounds on the rest of the twenty-four-hour news channels, morning talk shows, and even late night. Soon, “Acedia” and “Frankengirls” were rolling off tongues across the country.

  For Torres, his reputation and impending acceptances to colleges were at stake, but reports also suggest criminal charges of child pornography were being contemplated. Such an outcome would fuel the mob already swarming around Eliza Torres. With her son accused of creating something that was such an affront to
women, supporters of her far-left campaign struggled to defend her, while those already opposed pounced on her as a hypocrite. With the election mere weeks away, Mrs. Torres’s team had a new battle on its hands. Yet she was not the only one.

  The Frankengirls and the rights of female students had become a rallying cry. And Angeline Quinn, the once hero, was now tainted, believed to be a villain. What had started as a position on a charter school student council now threatened to derail the budding influencer’s career before it truly began. She’d given a voice to many—a voice that, at least in her own backyard, was being suffocated.

  That, some say, is what led to what happened next.

  Baker, who had a prime position on the front lawn of the school that day, said this: “Man, it was like a box of red and blue Crayolas was dumped on the lawn and left in the sun—wall-to-wall reds and blues and ones melted all together into violet. Wicked scene, man, wicked.”

  Click for more: 5 of 6

  32

  When Cat Makes a Plan

  2 DAYS TO THE (NOW CANCELED) ELECTION

  Cat had been up before the sun, crunching on dry cereal at the round dining room table.

  When they’d gotten home the night before, Angeline had been uncharacteristically quiet. Together, with Gramps and their mom, they’d watched the report that hit CNN. Acedia had gone national. Take a candidate for Congress, mix in a bad-boy son, add a dash of sex and a twist of misogyny, and the media had a gift-wrapped package it would tear open and exploit until the next scandal took over the news cycle.

  Last night, as they watched, Ravi had texted.

  You ok?

  Was she okay? Vicious comments on social media were accusing Angeline of using the Frankengirls as stepping stones, but he wanted to know how she was doing. It was nice, knowing someone was thinking of her.

  Too bad it had to come because of all this.

  As much as Cat loved journalism, she hated this. Hated that this was a story. Her sister, Leo, her school. All because of The Shrieking Violet.

  She hit play on the video from the party for what must have been the twelfth time. Using last year’s yearbook, she’d identified two kids on the fringes and was working on a third. The football players weren’t worth her time. They’d already decided to stick to their Leo story. Implicating him took the focus off of them. But someone else, someone new, might be able to prove that the hand sticking out of that sweatshirt didn’t belong to Leo. If she could give another viable option, maybe she could at least slow down the school’s inquiry long enough to conduct her own.

  “Got ’em!” she said, pegging the third student at the edge of the video as Andreas Costa based on a glimpse of his lacrosse jersey.

  Her heart pumped with adrenaline, just like it had when she’d hunted down the student selling the school’s Wi-Fi password last year. This was the type of reporting she was good at, that she’d somehow let get lost in her rivalry with The Shrieking Violet.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Leo and his mom on the television in the living room. The local news had rolled into one of the national morning talk shows. She didn’t need to unmute to know what was being said.

  She returned to her computer. By the time Angeline, still in her yellow-flowered sleep jumpsuit, came into the living room, Cat was ready. Though not for the red lining her sister’s eyes.

  Angeline yawned. “How long have you been up?”

  “Long enough to have come up with a plan. I could use you, if you’re up for it.”

  Angeline pulled out a chair beside Cat. “I’m all for helping Leo.”

  “And you.”

  “Me? I’m not the one about to be expelled.”

  “No, but you are the one who violated your confidentiality clause. Unintentionally, but still. Let’s get ahead of it.”

  “It’s too late, Cat.”

  “Maybe not.” Cat spun her computer around and clicked on the email she’d drafted when she’d first gotten up. “You just have to send it from your account.”

  Angeline started reading. “Wait, you want me to admit to Evelyn’s Epic Everyday that I let the boot camp slip?”

  “Keep reading. You tell them the truth: that an invasion of your privacy led to the information being released. This way it looks like you aren’t hiding anything. You’ll provide definitive proof or you’ll excuse yourself.”

  “Just drop out? And”—she pointed to the screen—“invite them to keep the deposit?”

  “They were going to anyway. Offering it up shows how genuine you are.”

  Angeline scanned the email again. “You really think I should send this?”

  “I know my judgment hasn’t been entirely spot-on lately, but I think it’ll help. At least I can’t see how it hurts.” She grabbed the television remote and hit rewind, pausing on the photo of Leo and his mom at that event in the harbor. “Not anymore.”

  Angeline’s eyes clouded. “Imagine them watching this. After all his mom’s done to get here, this is the thing people are going to be talking about. Even if you manage to clear Leo, it won’t matter.”

  Cat tried to respond. The words filled her mouth, but releasing them felt silly, childish even. But she believed what she believed. And she wouldn’t let this take it from her. “It will. The truth always matters. Even if it’s not reported, it matters. And it won’t be me who clears Leo, it’ll be us.”

  Angeline smiled with an unexpected warmth. “Where do we start?”

  33

  When Angeline Encounters a Green Ghost

  2 DAYS TO THE (NOW CANCELED) ELECTION

  Angeline’s thumb cramped, and she took a break.

  She’d been sitting at the small white table in the frozen yogurt shop scrolling through photos and videos from Maxine’s party since school let out. Fortunately many of her classmates had used the #LastSummerBlastOnTheCliffs hashtag that Maxine had coined in her text invites. For each pic or video using the hashtag, Angeline noted who posted it and worked her way through that person’s account from the night of the party through the current date to catch any later or throwback posts. As she went, she also marked who else was tagged in those posts and began running through their social media accounts too, finding more posts that didn’t use the hashtag.

  She still hadn’t found anyone wearing a green sweatshirt.

  Angeline flexed her thumb and returned to her phone. She didn’t even realize Cat had arrived until her sister handed her a spoon to share what looked to be blueberry topped with granola.

  “No luck yet,” Cat said. “I spoke to all three, but none of the other students I identified in Tad’s video remember seeing anyone in a green sweatshirt.”

  “And Tamara?”

  “Waiting for her to text me back. What about you?”

  “Never thought I’d say this, but social media is totally failing me.” Angeline dug into Cat’s yogurt. “Kid’s a green ghost.”

  Cat grabbed Angeline’s phone and began to scroll.

  “Do me a favor, check my DMs,” Angeline said. “I reached out to a few people who seemed to be in Maxine’s living room the whole night. See if anyone wrote back. And ignore what the trolls are saying.”

  The haters that had come along with Angeline’s potential involvement in the Frankengirls had turned her off reading comments for whatever was left of her influencer lifetime.

  “Hmm,” Cat said. “Yeah, I can see how ‘You are an inspiration. Never give up!’ is a tough one to swallow.”

  “Real funny, Cat,” Angeline said.

  “I’m serious.” Cat began reading out loud:

  Saying good-bye to twenty years of yo-yo dieting and hello to healthy eating because we are all #MoreThanOurParts. I believe in you!

  I’m applying to med school because #MoreThanOurParts means #GirlPower and #BrainPower! My wings are fluttering!
r />   My school’s adopting my peer jury proposal. Because of you! xxx

  Angeline’s heart lifted, then fell. Because these had to be the exception. “So a couple don’t hate me.”

  “It’s more than a couple. Haven’t you seen all these heart emojis and prayer hands and—”

  “It’s corny as hell, I know.” Angeline jabbed her spoon back into the frozen yogurt. She knew what Cat thought of Ask an Angel.

  “Maybe . . . but people posted them. Your followers seem to care.”

  “In the way that can only exist in the vortex that is the internet, right?” Angeline reclaimed her phone. “It’s fine, Cat. You don’t have to pretend you believe in all this.”

  “But I don’t have to believe in this to believe in you. I didn’t treat this with enough respect. I’m sorry, Ang.”

  Angeline twisted toward her sister, surprise sending a tiny electric shock up her spine. “I . . .” She nodded slightly, a warmth spreading across her chest. She then read the comments for herself. Her followers did seem to care about her, and for maybe the first time she wasn’t stretching the truth when she said she cared back.

  Then, her phone dinged as a text arrived from Tamara.

  Tomorrow. Lunch. You both owe me.

  “So, looks like we’re on,” Angeline said.

  “That’s great. Though it’s strange that she texted you when I’m the one who reached out to her.”

  “She texted us both.” Angeline showed her the chain, then looked at Cat’s phone. “No cell service. You need to get on the Wi-Fi.”

  “There isn’t any in here.”

  “But I’ve been working all afternoon.” Angeline opened the Wi-Fi settings. “See?”

  Cat read the list of available Wi-Fi. “You’re connected to Torres Extension. No froyo shop, so you must have been on Torres Extension the whole time. Leo’s house is basically behind us, right?”