by Lauren Kunze
Clearly, thought Callie. But why?
“I didn’t transfer here from USC,” Alessandra said finally.
“What?” said Callie.
“I took last semester off, but the year before that I was enrolled at Harvard…as a freshman.”
Callie glanced at Gregory, who also seemed too shocked to speak. Alessandra went on. “My full name is Alessandra Garcia-Constantine. Growing up, I thought Alessandra was too flashy—too much of a ‘hot girl’ name—so I always went by Alessan instead. And shortly before I came to Harvard, my father made a rather large—rather public—donation; so I decided to drop the second half of the hyphenate in order to make a fresh start in college. Even though my mother—and her last name—had been the bane of my existence growing up, there were…reasons it was a lot less likely that people would put two and two together.”
“Yes?” Callie encouraged, though she was starting to get a sense of where this was going.
“During the fall of my freshman year someone did put two and two together—and that someone was in the Pudding. They figured out that the famous supermodel had a daughter enrolled, and so, without ever having met me, they punched me.
“That first event was a disaster,” Alessandra recalled, glancing at the now nearly empty box of tissues like she might need another one at any moment. “Even in a brand-new dress I stood out like a…whale in a wading pool. Literally. Nobody could figure out who I was, or why I was there, so I spent the second half of the evening hiding in the coatroom with a tray of cupcakes…which is where I was when I overheard two members laughing about me: saying how they wouldn’t have ‘enough room’ to describe ‘that mistake’ in the Punch Book.”
Callie stole a peek at Gregory, expecting him to look uncomfortable. “I remember you saying that in high school you used to be ‘curvier,’” he prompted, ever so gently.
Alessandra nodded glumly. “As you probably both guessed by now—that was a major euphemism. I was the world’s fattest, ugliest supermodel’s daughter, and even though people weren’t usually mean about it, everyone always looked at me—and my mother—like they were just so sorry I’d gotten the short end of the genetic stick.”
She cleared her throat. “I spent the rest of my freshman year trying to stay as invisible as possible. And it worked: I made almost no friends—and no enemies to make soul-crushing comments about my weight either. But by the end of it I was seriously depressed. Something had to be done. So I asked my parents to send me away to one of those ‘camps.’ It took more than six months, but afterward I looked like—well, like I do today. I even started using ‘Alessandra’ again.
“Before coming back to school, I decided to test-drive the new me at a New Year’s party at the Ritz—where we met,” she said, turning to Gregory. “A bunch of other Pudding people were there that night, too. I couldn’t believe it—not one of the upperclassmen recognized me, and they all couldn’t stop gushing about how I ‘just had to join’ their club. So I told them I’d just transferred mid-semester—from USC, which was easy enough to post online along with recent photos—and that I would be just thrilled to consider their society. That’s when the idea for the Insider articles first came to me. And from then on, everything went according to plan for a while…until I started falling for you,” she murmured to Gregory.
“I guess I wasn’t a very good boyfriend,” he said. “If I’d been better, you might have felt like you could tell me more…about you.”
Alessandra shrugged. “I could see that you were trying. And I knew you didn’t have a lot of practice, so I was flattered that I was the one who’d finally inspired you to make an effort.”
Callie tried to keep her expression neutral.
“But I also eventually figured out that you didn’t love me—that you were in love with someone else. It was those texts on your phone that did it. ‘I think about you every day. It’s like I’m going crazy. I know you think I could never change but maybe, for you, I could.’” Alessandra frowned. “The fact that you never sent them only made it worse somehow. It made them seem more honest: obviously you weren’t just using a line to coax some girl into bed. I’m talking about you, by the way,” she said, grimacing at Callie.
“I’m sorry,” Gregory said to Alessandra again. “I didn’t know I—felt that way. Or maybe I did know but had given up and was trying to move on because I didn’t think my feelings would ever be returned….”
Callie wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him exactly how she felt—over and over and over again—but instead she sat on her hands.
“I forgive you,” said Alessandra. “I only hope…that maybe one day you can forgive me?” She looked at Callie.
“I’m sorry that you had such a terrible experience at the Pudding, and about…everything else,” Callie said eventually. “And as for the Insider thing: I’ll forgive you in the morning if I’m still around to do it.”
“You will be,” Alessandra affirmed. “I’ll tell the board everything—that it was all me.”
“And let Lexi get away with it?” Callie yelped. “No way!”
“What choice do I have?” asked Alessandra. “I can’t exactly prove her involvement, and if I implicate her, I’m positive she’ll make good on her threats: to publish in the Crimson the whole story of who was really behind the Ivy Insider and why—complete with an old photo she managed to track down.”
Callie’s eyes went wide.
“What?” asked Alessandra.
“Stay here,” Callie cried, leaping to her feet. “I’ll be right back!” she yelled over her shoulder before dashing out into the hall. Running into her bedroom, she grabbed the photo that she’d tacked onto the right-hand side of the bulletin board. Then, she threw open the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out the USB flash drive labeled C, A—INSURANCE. In thirty seconds she was back inside the common room of C 23, panting, thankful that she didn’t have to stop and explain anything to anyone since they were all out at various libraries, studying for exams.
“What is it?” Alessandra asked again.
“Is this the photo, and is this the flash drive?” Callie said, shoving both onto Alessandra’s lap.
“How did you—”
“I broke into her office during the Lampoon break-in and I took them,” said Callie.
Gregory raised an eyebrow at her.
“What—like you never did anything wrong in your life?” she asked him.
“This is my ‘impressed’ face,” he deadpanned.
Callie held back a smile.
“No wonder she didn’t tell me that other items in her office were missing when I wrote that Crimson article,” Alessandra mused. “What a sneaky little b—”
“Text her,” Callie interrupted. “Find out where she is and tell her that you need to talk, right now.”
“She’s in her office at the Crimson,” said Alessandra a moment later, looking up from her phone.
“Yeah, well, it won’t be her office much longer,” said Callie. “Come on,” she added, compelling the other two to stand. “And Alessandra: make sure your iPhone has a working recording app.”
FOURTEEN
Insider Ousted
“I’m sorry, but I’m quite busy today—oh…it’s you,” said the clear, high voice from where its owner sat in a regulation wooden chair. Callie smiled, wondering where Mimi had so successfully hidden the coveted, ergonomic ‘throne’ of their campus’s about-to-be-overthrown queen bee:
Alexis Thorndike.
“Both of you together,” Lexi corrected herself, looking from Callie to Alessandra. Gregory was waiting just outside the offices so he could fill Grace in when she arrived. Lexi smirked. “I guess that means you think you’ve got it all figured out,” she said, sounding altogether unconcerned. “And I guess you,” she addressed Alessandra, “no longer care if the entire school learns that you’re a lying, name-faking, former little fatty with a revenge streak and a flair for penning anonymous FlyBy blog posts.
�
��Then again,” Lexi continued, kicking back in her chair, “I don’t suppose you’ll be here for much longer, so maybe you won’t mind.”
Alessandra glowered. “Is that so? What do you suppose the chances are of me getting kicked out for an article that was your idea in the first place?”
Callie’s pulse thundered and she forced herself to avoid looking at Alessandra’s purse.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lexi said sweetly. “Sorry. I really wish I could have helped. But like I said, I do have a lot of things that need to get done today, so if you could please just see yourselves out—”
“No.” Callie shook her head. “We’re not going anywhere until you admit that you were responsible for the final two Ivy Insider installments. You called the cops on that Pudding party, and you leaked the club’s password so that the Punch Book would be published. And you blackmailed Alessandra to force her to do your dirty work!”
Lexi laughed. “What a delightful little story!” She clapped her hands. “But I’m afraid I did no such things. Though that bit about the blackmail is especially creative. I wonder, whatever gave you that idea?”
“How about these?” said Alessandra, holing up the photo and the flash drive.
Lexi’s expression momentarily darkened. But then she smiled. “If I was using those items to coerce you somehow, as you say, then why do you have them instead of me?” Her brown eyes danced. “Unless of course one of you admits to breaking into my office? I’d hate to think it was you,” she said to Callie, “and while you were strictly banned from the building, too. I wonder if that’s enough for the Ad Board to reconsider your expulsion even if Alessandra isn’t just covering for you with regard to the Insider articles. Or maybe the two of you broke in together, just like you’ve been collaborating this entire time?”
“It’s over, Alexis.” Grace shut the door and smiled grimly at Callie. “Too many people know too much for you to get away with it this time.”
“As if it wasn’t already crowded enough in here already,” Alexis muttered, finally appearing, for the first time, unsettled. “Although I suppose being packed into a room full of girls is kind of like your dream come true?”
“That’s right,” Grace agreed. “Keep bullying me about my sexuality. It’ll make a great addition to all of your e-mails from freshman year. You know the ones I’m talking about—where you told me to give up my seat on the Crimson or you’d out me to the student body?” Grace glanced at Alessandra. “She might not have any written documentation of your efforts to blackmail her,” Grace continued to Lexi, “but you weren’t always so careful, were you? Even up until last semester you still put a few things in writing that you maybe shouldn’t have….” Grace turned to Callie. “Isn’t that right, Andrews?”
“Um…right!” said Callie. “She e-mailed me just before I left for Thanksgiving break with a certain video file in the attachment and then implied she’d see me if I ever came back!”
Grace nodded. “That sounds a lot like something that happened in a widely circulated article I read at the start of this semester. It was called ‘Sex, Lies, and Videotape,’ and in it an exceptionally brave freshman girl admitted not only to having her privacy violated when her ex-boyfriend filmed her in secret but that a certain unnamed upperclassman had been using knowledge of the tape to harass her all year and coerce her into doing various tasks.”
“What’s your point?” said Lexi icily.
“My point,” said Grace, “is that the administration’s main concern with the Punch Book going public and the final Insider installment is harassment. Bullying. Students picking on other students based on gender, physical appearance, socioeconomic status, and yes, sexuality.”
“Isn’t it too bad, then,” Lexi replied, “that you were the one who published it.”
“And yet you are the one with a proven record of harassment,” Grace countered, “and a long history of forcing other students to do your bidding with threats—from giving up a rightfully earned spot on the Crimson to giving up a guy or giving up on staying in school.”
Lexi stared Grace down for a full thirty seconds before declaring, “A few old e-mails taken out of context still won’t prove that I had any involvement in the Ivy Insider articles. Now please leave my office immediately before I am forced to call Dean Benedict and tell him that you three are threatening me.”
“By all means, make the call,” said Callie. “We were going to suggest that anyway. And while you have the dean on the phone, you can tell him the truth. How you caught Alessandra working on an Insider article here at the Crimson. How you told her that instead of quitting, like she offered, she should keep on writing about the topics you gave her. How first you were plotting to have only me kicked out of the Pudding, but then you eventually decided to give Alessandra the password to HPPunch dot com and have her publish the Punch Book, knowing full well that both Grace and I would go down for it. Ready?” Callie finished, picking up the phone on Lexi’s desk.
“It’ll be her word against mine,” said Lexi, looking from the landline to Alessandra.
“Actually,” said Callie, “it’ll be your word against Alessandra’s—and Clint’s.” Callie swallowed. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but they needed that confession. “That’s right,” she continued. “Guess who had one too many drinks last night and came over to my place? He couldn’t wait to tell me all about how he was through with you because he’d caught you blackmailing someone else and—figured out all the other things that you’d been up to…. Oh—my bad!” Callie cringed, pressing her advantage. “Did he forget to let you know that it was over before he started hitting on me? That does kind of sound like him, though, doesn’t it?”
Lexi finally cracked. “Clint would—never betray me to the Ad Board! He doesn’t have a clue why I was blackmailing Alessandra or that it was my idea to publish the Punch Book, and even if he did sense that something was up, he’d never turn me in because he’d be too afraid of losing his summer internship with my uncle!”
“Gotcha!” Alessandra exclaimed, pulling her iPhone out of her purse and hitting Pause. “Just in time, too,” she muttered, noticing that the available recording space had almost maxed out. “In some ways you really were a great mentor,” Alessandra said to Lexi, quickly saving the recorded file and e-mailing it to Callie and Grace. “I learned a lot of things from you. Like how to record a conversation without the other person noticing. And how it’s always so important to back up your work,” she finished, tossing her cell into her bag as Grace’s and Callie’s beeped with the incoming message.
Lexi stared from one girl to the other, speechless. Finally her eyes settled on Callie. “Clint didn’t actually—”
“He did,” said Callie. “But you’ll have to get him to tell you exactly what happened—if he can remember. I hope you’ll manage to work things out,” she added wryly. “You two really do deserve each other.”
“You seem confused,” Grace jumped in, surveying Lexi’s stupefied expression. “So why don’t I tell you how it’s going to go down from here. First you’re going to recuse yourself from the Student-Faculty Judicial Board. Then you’re going to propose to Dean Benedict that, based on my exemplary behavior while on probation, he ought to restore me to my position as managing editor.”
Callie nodded. “You will go to the hearing tomorrow morning with Alessandra and explain that the final Insider installment was never her idea. And if you don’t—well, now we have our own ‘insurance.’ You can quietly tell the Ad Board what you did or we can publish the whole story publicly, so everyone at the paper will know how you achieved your hostile temporary takeover and everyone in the Pudding will know that you betrayed them. The choice is yours,” she finished before Lexi could protest.
“And,” said Alessandra, “just in case you ever get the urge to blackmail someone else again, we’re going to be hanging on to this.” She patted her purse. “We hope it will inspire you to remember to be nice to COMPers in th
e future.”
“So—you’re letting me stay on the magazine?” Lexi asked, recovering her powers of speech.
“That’s not up to us,” said Grace. “It’s up to the administration. My guess is that the punishment will be less severe, though, because no one individual was responsible: it took all of us, with the obvious exception of Callie, to make this mess.”
“What about the Pudding?” Lexi turned to Callie.
“What about it?” asked Callie.
“Will you tell them that I was responsible for the publication of the Punch Book?”
“You can tell them yourself,” said Callie. “Or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me, because I’m not a member anymore. I quit.”
“You what?” said Lexi sharply.
“I quit,” Callie repeated. “I finally realized Alessandra was right: I don’t want to belong to a club with people like you in it, even if not everyone in it is like you.”
Alessandra smiled.
Lexi seemed to be biting back the urge to inform Alessandra that the only club that would accept her when Lexi got through telling everyone about the Insider articles was Weight Watchers.
In the meantime Grace had been eyeing all the new décor on the desk and walls. “Right,” she said, clearing her throat. “Well, then, since the hearing is tomorrow morning, I’ll expect all of your stuff to be out of here by noon. Feel free to take the chair, too, since I seem to recall hearing something about how your Eames is missing.” Grace smirked, opening the door to the office. “Shall we?” she asked the other two.
Callie trailed after her and Alessandra and was almost out of the office when Lexi called to her, “I don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?” asked Callie, turning to face her.
“Why not expose me to the Pudding or try to have me expelled?” Lexi seemed genuinely confused. “I would destroy you with half as much.”
Callie shrugged and stepped out of the office. “Because I’m not you.”