Scandal

by Lauren Kunze

  “If they reject it,” Vanessa corrected, throwing an arm around Callie’s shoulders.

  Callie sighed. Given all of her failed attempts at journalism, she highly doubted her foray into fiction would fare any better. But of one thing she was certain: that Vanessa’s journey to Eat (with the hipster), Party (with the hipster), and Love (the hipster) was sure to provide an excellent source of material.

  “Shall we?” said Vanessa, starting for the door.

  “Sure, let’s…Hey, hang on just a second.” One of the flyers on the wall that Callie hadn’t noticed before caught her eye.

  IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO SIGN UP

  For

  INTRAMURAL ATHLETICS!!!

  The spring season for the following IM sports

  starts April 15:

  Basketball

  Volleyball

  Soccer

  E-mail froshIMsports@fas for schedules and to sign up!

  “You coming?” asked Vanessa.

  “Just a sec!” Callie called, flexing her knee. Then, with a smile, she pulled out a pen and copied down the e-mail address at the bottom of the flyer.

  “What were you doing back there?” Vanessa asked when Callie caught up with her.

  “Just taking your advice,” said Callie, walking out onto South Street.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep,” said Callie. “I think I may have found another extracurricular activity.”

  “Something new?” asked Vanessa.

  “Actually,” said Callie, grinning, “something old.”

  FIVE

  I Love You, Grace Lee

  * * *

  The Harvard Crimson

  NEWS OPINION FM MAGAZINE SPORTS ARTS MEDIA FLYBY*

  * * *

  Administration to Cancel Introductory Latin

  Students organize a campus-wide protest even as enrollment in the (former?) “Universal language of academia” reaches record lows

  By GRACE LEE, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER

  Published: Thursday, April 14

  Latin enrollment has reached a record low on campus, according to a recent report from the Department of the Classics. The subject that was once a requirement and, up until 1961, was the language in which all undergraduate diplomas were written, continues to attract fewer and fewer students every year.

  In response, the administration has elected to cancel all introductory Latin courses starting in the fall of the next academic year. Advanced offerings will still exist for those who have enjoyed the opportunity to engage in previous study of the language.

  And now a look back on some of the most famous Latin phrases that have shaped both the community at this university and our society at large.

  VERITAS: Truth

  If you learn only one thing in Latin, learn this. It’s Harvard’s motto and appears on the school’s crest.

  DIVIDE ET IMPERA: Divide and rule/conquer

  Niccolo Machiavelli famously proposed this military strategy in The Art of War, still a popular read among Harvard students, though perhaps today the theory is more relevant to cutthroat social situations than to combat.

  ALEA IACTA EST: The die is cast

  Just like Julius Caesar, so you can use this phrase, perhaps when deciding to go out on Thursday night instead of finishing a problem set. (Veni vidi vici, another of Caesar’s phrases, means I came, I saw, I conquered—useful if you did stay home with that problem set, went to class, and then aced the exam.)

  COGITO ERGO SUM: I think, therefore I am

  How do you know that you exist? This was the answer of René Descartes, the father of Western Philosophy.

  CARPE DIEM: Seize the day

  Life is short, and you shouldn’t waste a single minute of it.

  DEUS EX MACHINA: God out of a machine

  In ancient Greek plays when a plot grew too twisted or complicated, the author would often drop (literally, using a crane machine) an actor playing a god onto the stage to solve everything in the final act.

  Curious to learn more? Then join fellow students in a protest on the afternoon of Friday, April 15, outside the Science Center to Salvum Latinae (that’s Save Latin).

  * * *

  “Grace, Grace, Grace!” Callie exploded suddenly over salad at the Science Center’s Greenhouse Café. “Do you ever talk about anything else?”

  Matt’s face turned bright red from where he was seated across the table. Callie instantly regretted her outburst, staring down at her lettuce. “Uh, sorry,” she mumbled, prodding a tomato with her fork. “I know I’m not one to talk about obsessing,” she confessed. “But don’t you think it’s time to admit your feelings? If not to Grace then to yourself at least?”

  Matt sputtered. “I’m not—I mean—I was just saying that she seems to be—relying—on me a lot more—at the Crimson, I mean, now that, you know…she needs me…I mean, needs my—”

  Callie placed her hand over his. “You’re right. It definitely sounds like she’s developed a great amount of professional respect for you. The truth is,” she said, spearing a crouton and popping it into her mouth, “that I’m only being bitchy because I’m jealous. Of the way Grace respects you and your work!” she added quickly. “She totally hates me now.” Frowning, Callie took a sip of her triple-shot latte, hoping it would reinvigorate her after a particularly grueling hour of Science B-29, The Evolution of Human Nature.

  “Hate is such a strong word,” Matt said. “I’m sure she’ll come around. You were her favorite COMPer, after all, and her mood seems to be improving these days now that she’s publishing again. Granted, she’s still on probation and Alexis is assigning her the last pick of all the articles.”

  “Ugh,” Callie groaned at the sound of the name. “If there’s one reason I’m grateful for my suspension from the paper, it’s that I’m able to avoid Lexi’s Reign of Terror.”

  Matt chuckled. “No one’s been beheaded—yet. But there’s definitely been a huge shift in focus regarding the types of stories we’re encouraged to pursue. You hear a lot of whispering among the older staff members: that pretty soon the paper is going to look more like the magazine. That Alexis ran a tight ship at FM, but now she’s in over her head. That sort of thing.”

  “Dissention among the ranks,” Callie murmured. “Excellent. Maybe her ‘interim’ as managing editor is going to come to an end sooner rather than later.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Matt. “Though it doesn’t seem likely while she has Dean Benedict’s ear, and this Insider matter is unresolved—”

  Callie groaned again. “Sorry,” she apologized.

  “No progress?” Matt asked, his brown eyes earnest with concern.

  “None whatsoever,” Callie replied.

  “I’ve been keeping my ears open at the paper like you asked,” he said, lowering his voice. “But I haven’t noticed anyone acting strangely.” He tilted his head. “Or at least no one person is behaving any weirder than anyone else right now, given the administrative changes and the whole…thing.”

  Callie scanned the room, but most of the nearby tables were empty. “Does everyone think I did it?” she whispered, leaning in.

  Matt cringed. “Let’s just say that your sudden absence hasn’t gone unnoticed. But the official position is that you quit, and neither Lexi nor Grace seems to be contradicting it. Plus, the administration made it clear that we are not to pursue any stories speculating about the Insider until they’ve personally identified and disciplined the individual responsible.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s something,” Callie muttered. “How ironic that the person who’s really responsible is still hiding in their midst, if she isn’t actually running the paper as we speak—oh, um, hey, OK!”

  Matt’s roommate, who had just rounded the corner where the cash registers were, recoiled in surprise, nearly spilling the two coffee cups he carried in his hands. “Er, hi there, you two,” he said, approaching slowly.

  “Hey, man,” called Matt, turning. “What are you up to?”
>
  “Nothing!” OK cried, glancing over his shoulder. “I mean, nothing except getting coffee.”

  “Are you meeting someone?” Callie asked.

  “Why would you—oh.” He stopped, glancing down at the second cup. “Yes. Kind of. Well, no, not really. It’s complicated, see. These are both…for me,” he finished lamely, setting the coffee on a nearby table.

  Matt raised his eyebrows at Callie. “We won’t bother you if you need some privacy,” she said, kicking Matt, who had probably also overheard OK’s nighttime visitor.

  “Privacy?” OK repeated, hovering above Matt’s chair. “Well, I’m not sure that will be necessar—Mimi!”

  Callie’s roommate had just exited Science Center C, heading for the café.

  “What are you doing here?” OK demanded once she’d approached.

  Yawning, Mimi rubbed her eyes. “It seems that I have fallen asleep during the class.”

  “No!” Callie cried, feigning shock. “Really?”

  “I am afraid it is so,” Mimi affirmed, smirking. “Is that for me?” she added, pointing at the extra coffee on OK’s table.

  Eyes wide, OK shook his head. “No. It’s for…me.”

  Matt stared at him. “Dude. Why are you acting so weird?”

  “Why are you, dude, acting so weird?” OK shot back.

  Mimi started to giggle.

  “Fine—take it!” OK snapped, handing her the coffee. “I really ought to be getting home anyway.”

  “Merci, monseigneur,” Mimi thanked him. “Veux-tu une escorte a Wigglesworth?”

  “I guess,” OK said sourly.

  He is acting odd, Callie thought, watching him closely. Normally he’d be screaming, “How high?” before Mimi had even said, “Jump.” He must actually like the new girl—whoever she was.

  “If some…girl shows up looking for you,” said Matt, “should we tell her that you couldn’t make it?”

  “A girl!” yelped Mimi, appearing, yet again, on the verge of giggles. “Ooh la la, qui est-elle, cette femme mystère?”

  “Yes,” Callie echoed. “Who is this mystery woman?”

  OK glared at Mimi. “You know very well”—he eyed Matt and Callie—“that I am not meeting anyone! There’s no mystery! None! Good-bye!” he cried. “Mimi?”

  Laughing, Mimi followed him down the ramp that led out of the Science Center, turning back at the bottom and pressing a finger to her lips.

  “Well,” said Callie, watching them walk away through the enormous glass window overlooking the front entrance to the Science Center. “That was weird.”

  “No kidding,” Matt agreed.

  “Any idea who…?”

  “No,” said Matt. “But OK has definitely been entertaining a regular guest recently, based on the—er—noises coming from his bedroom. You would think, what with Gregory gone, that all the crazy hookup—sorry.”

  “Maybe it’s that senior who bid a thousand dollars on him at the date auction?” Callie said quickly.

  “Good call,” said Matt. “But I can’t see what’s so embarrassing about that or why else it would be worth hiding.”

  Callie shrugged. “Maybe it’s the weather.” Stretching, she continued to gaze out the window. Outside under the April sun, the stone fountain flowed merrily, splashing onto the surrounding grass as people strolled up and down the cement walkways. A small group of students clustered around the stone benches farther away toward the back entrance to Harvard Yard, some bent over what looked like a bunch of butcher paper and cardboard.

  “What do you suppose they’re doing?” Callie asked. Squinting, she watched a girl attach one of the sheets of cardboard to the edge of a large stick and then lift it above her head. A sign! Callie couldn’t read it from so far away or make out any of the students’ features, but still, it had to be: “A protest!” she cried. “Any idea what for?”

  “Uh,” said Matt, staring at the table. “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” Callie demanded, rounding on him.

  “Well, we did publish an article yesterday that briefly referenced a protest scheduled to take place outside the Science Center this afternoon…you know, to save introductory Latin?”

  “Ooh,” said Callie slowly. “So that’s why you wanted to meet at the Greenhouse Café.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Matt muttered, going scarlet. “I happen to like the coffee here. And, you know, while we’re on the subject, I like Latin, too!”

  “You know who else likes Latin?” Callie asked. “Grace! Come on, Matt. Just admit it. You’re obsessed. And besides, nobody likes the coffee here. It’s terrible.”

  “That’s not…entirely…Fine,” he conceded suddenly. “You win! I like her! A lot! At least as much as any man can…like a woman…who barely knows he’s alive.”

  “She knows you’re alive!” said Callie. “Weren’t you just saying how much she’s been relying on you lately?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the same thing as wanting to date me.”

  Callie chewed her lip, unsure how to proceed. She could take the Vanessa approach (i.e., “OMG _____ totally looooves you, you have to go for it!”), or try to discourage him the way Dana might (i.e., “Don’t you have a project due tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on that?”), or refuse all involvement by feigning ignorance with the Mimi route (i.e., “Wait—who are we speaking of again?”). In truth, she had no idea whether to encourage or dissuade, having never known Grace to even so much as speak about any romantic interests.

  “I guess,” Callie started, “that things are slightly complicated by the fact that she is—or, uh, was—your boss, so making a move could lead to potential awkwardness around the office.”

  “I know.” Matt moaned, burying his face in his palms.

  “On the other hand,” Callie continued, “if you don’t tell her how you feel, you might never know if those feelings are mutual.”

  Pausing, they both turned to stare out the window. Callie could just make out Grace now, marching in a circle and carrying a sign with the rest of the protesters, some of whom wielded megaphones, which they were probably using to chant Latin phrases.

  “To be honest,” Callie started gently, “I don’t know if you’re her type—but that’s only because I don’t know if she even has a type! She always seems so strictly business that I’m having a hard time picturing what she’d be like on a date.”

  “Oh god,” said Matt, who’d been inadvertently gnawing on his knuckles. “Do you think she’s already seeing some other guy? Of course she is! How could I be so stupid! She’s so much smarter than I am and her hair is so shiny and she always smells like freshly printed newspapers and—”

  Callie reached for his hands, pulling them away from his mouth and slowly setting them on the table.

  “Regardless of whether or not it works out with Grace,” she said firmly, “you are a great guy and a total catch, and even if it doesn’t happen today, or tomorrow, someday soon you will find that someone who is perfect for you.”

  “So you don’t think she’s already dating someone else?” Matt asked, transfixed by the protesters outside.

  Callie sighed. “I think that if you really want to know, you should probably just ask her—maybe before trying to tell her how you feel?”

  “So I should tell her?” Matt asked, tearing his eyes away from the window.

  “Um…” Callie faltered. “I can’t make that decision for you. But I think what it ultimately comes down to is this: are you willing to take that risk? Are you prepared for any outcome even if it doesn’t end up being the one that you’d hoped for?”

  Slowly Matt nodded.

  Callie started to smile as his head continued to bob up and down with increasing vigor—until all of a sudden he started shaking it violently from side to side.

  “Nope!” he cried. “Can’t do it!”

  “Matt,” said Callie, watching him leap to his feet.

  “Just forget this whole convers
ation ever happened. Hey, you finished?” he added, reaching for her nearly empty salad container and coffee cup.

  “Um, sure, but—”

  “We should probably get going, then,” he called, tossing their garbage in the trash.

  “Matt,” Callie repeated standing. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no, no, it’s fine,” he reassured her, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Really. I’m sure we both have a lot of work to do.”

  “Okay, yeah,” said Callie, grabbing her book bag. “Let’s go.”

  Matt still seemed highly agitated as they pushed their way through the double doors leading outside the Science Center.

  “We could sneak around the back if you want,” Callie suggested, tilting her head toward a path that would allow them to bypass the protesters. There appeared to be about forty of them in total, plus roughly fifteen other students who had stopped to stare.

  “Don’t worry,” Matt muttered, striding in the direction of Grace and the rest of the group. “It’s not like I’m going to grab her and announce my love right here and now—”

  “Matt?” Callie turned, realizing he was no longer walking beside her.

  A dreamy look had passed across his face as he watched the protesters march, waving their signs and chanting in Latin.

  Callie glanced back at the crowd, where Grace stood out despite being brief in stature, holding one of the largest signs of all, which read, in huge purple lettering, CARPE DIEM.

  Oh no, thought Callie, turning. “Matt, what are you…?”

  “Hey!” he cried suddenly, dashing past her toward the guy closest to them on the outskirts of the group. “Can I borrow that?”

  “Matt!” Callie cried, running to catch up. She couldn’t hear the guy’s response, but she did see him shrug and hand Matt his megaphone.