The two of us weren’t getting along, and a prank war had escalated to the point of disaster. Savannah’s father, Senator Sinclair, tried throwing his weight around and demanded she be assigned another roommate; my father got offended and it was all just a big mess.
This time around, of course, it was different—there were no pranks, and no Senator Sinclair. But it was still a big mess.
After Mrs. Adler and I each had our chance to speak that afternoon, Mrs. Duffy looked down at my file—or what I assumed was my file, since it said JESSICA DELANEY on the label—then regarded me with what looked like a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. At least I’d hoped it was a glimmer of sympathy.
“Jess,” she said, “in the two and a half years you’ve been here at Colonial Academy, you’ve made a wonderful contribution to our student body. You excel at your studies, you’re involved in numerous extracurricular activities, and we all know and admire your wonderful volunteer work with the local animal rehabilitator. Additionally, several of your teachers have come forward to give you glowing character recommendations. In light of all that, I’ve decided to have this issue remanded to our Community Justice Board.”
“What?!” exclaimed Mrs. Adler.
“What’s the Community Justice Board?” my mother had asked.
“CJB is Colonial Academy’s student-run judicial system,” the headmistress explained.
Mrs. Adler was obviously unhappy that her word alone was not enough to convict me. “I hardly see the need to draw this matter out,” she’d huffed. “I think it’s entirely clear what transpired. Colonial has never coddled cheaters.”
“Nor will it,” Mrs. Duffy replied mildly. “But this is a grave charge, one with potentially grave consequences, and Jessica deserves a full and fair hearing, and the complete support of our institution’s due process.”
The Battleaxe pursed her lips. “You never were one for simple math, Betsy,” she said waspishly, and Mrs. Duffy’s face reddened. I gaped at them both—Mrs. Adler had been the headmistress’s math teacher, too? Unbelievable! “Two plus two equals four. It always has, and it always will. This girl is guilty as charged.”
“Now see here—” my father started, but my mother laid a warning hand on his knee.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Adler,” countered the headmistress calmly, “even in academia one is innocent until proven guilty, is one not?”
The Battleaxe grunted.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” The headmistress had turned to me then, and this time I was sure her gaze was sympathetic. “I’ll contact the Community Justice Board on your behalf, Jessica, and a hearing will be scheduled. Given the timing of this incident, I’m afraid it will have to wait until after our break, and in the meantime I have no other choice but to place you on probation.”
“What exactly does that mean?” asked my mother.
“Early curfew, closed campus, supervised study halls, no weekend passes—”
Great, I’d thought glumly. There go my dates with Darcy. I wouldn’t even be able to meet him at the library anymore.
“How about her involvement in MadriGals?” my father asked. “They’re heading to New York in a few weeks for the national competition, as I’m sure you know, and Jess has worked hard to earn herself a solo spot.”
The Battleaxe made a dismissive noise, but Mrs. Duffy nodded. “I’m well aware of the competition, Mr. Delaney,” she replied. “It’s a very exciting time for our school. This will all be settled one way or another before then, but in the meantime, Jessica will need to obey the probation requirements.”
And that had been that. Well, almost.
“I’m fully confident that my daughter will be cleared of these charges,” my mother had said as we were standing up to leave. “But I’m curious what would happen if she were not.”
“You mean if she’s found guilty of cheating?” Mrs. Duffy replied.
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid she’d lose her scholarship. Mrs. Adler is quite right—Colonial Academy doesn’t condone cheating.”
“I should think not,” Mrs. Adler said smugly.
“She really is an old Battleaxe, isn’t she?” grumbled my mother afterward as I walked my parents to their car.
“Yeah.”
My father gave me a hug. “Chin up, kiddo. It’s only a few weeks.”
“We’re rooting for you, sweetheart,” my mother added.
After they left, I drooped back to my dorm room, where Savannah was lying on her bunk, reading the Cliff Notes to The Scarlet Letter. I couldn’t blame her—it’s a horrible book. Even Emma doesn’t like it. I don’t know why every tenth grader in this entire country has to get stuck reading it.
Savannah took one look at my face and put the book down. “Didn’t go well, I take it?”
“Mrs. Adler tried to get me expelled, but Mrs. Duffy is sending me to the Community Justice Board. Meanwhile, I’m on probation.”
“Bummer. I thought for sure you’d be cleared on the spot. The charges are so obviously bogus.”
“Not according to the Battleaxe. Who, by the way, was the headmistress’s teacher, too, back when she was a student here.”
“No way.”
“Yes way!”
“Wow. So she really is, like, a hundred, then.” Savannah sat up. “Community Justice Board isn’t such a bad thing, Jess,” she told me. “In fact, it’s probably a good thing. You’ll get a fair hearing.”
“You think?”
Savannah was the only underclassman to get elected to the CJB. It was a big deal when it happened. Some of the juniors and seniors who were running against her were pretty upset. But even they had to admit that Savannah knocked it out of the park during the debates.
“Definitely.” She passed me a tissue. “Wipe your nose. We’re going for a ride. Not much that fresh air and horses can’t cure.”
She was right, of course. An hour down at the stables with her, putting Blackjack and Cairo through their paces, had me feeling a whole lot better. Savannah loves horses as much as I do, and she’s an awesome equestrienne—she won our school’s Silver Spurs Award two years in a row, and will probably win again this year. She’s a great riding partner.
As the two of us started back up the path toward the dorms when we were done, she looked over at me.
“Hey, do you remember back in eighth grade when we got into trouble for those pranks, and you helped tutor me afterward even though I wasn’t very nice to you?”
I laughed. “Yeah. I thought about that earlier today, actually. Sitting in Mrs. Duffy’s office reminded me.”
“I’ve never forgotten that, Jess. I know Mrs. Duffy made you do it and everything, but still.”
I shrugged. “No big deal.”
Savannah bumped her shoulder against mine. “Yes, it was a big deal—I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for you. I was on academic probation, remember?”
I nodded, still not sure what she was getting at.
“Anyway, I think it’s my turn to return the favor. I’m going to call my father.”
“Really?” I shot her a skeptical glance. I didn’t see how Senator Sinclair could help, unless she was going to ask him to pay for a new building or something in return for letting me off.
Savannah grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask him to pull any strings or anything. Not that he could, anyway. But he was a lawyer before he was a senator, you know. He was the one who suggested I run for the CJB.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “He said it would be a good way for me to learn how the legal system works. And maybe get a taste of what it might be like to practice law someday.”
I looked over at her in surprise. Savannah, a lawyer? I’d always thought of her as doing something with horses, a trainer or a breeder, maybe. “So, what’s the verdict? Sorry. Bad pun.”
She grinned again. “No kidding. But yeah, maybe. It’s been really interesting so far.”
Suddenly I pictured Savannah in
a power suit, standing in front of a jury. She’d be a formidable opponent, and anybody with any sense would want her on their side. She’s smart—not a straight-A student yet, but her grades have improved a ton, plus she has what Emma calls street smarts. And she’s quick on her feet and has yards of confidence. Which is probably why she was the only underclassman to be elected to the Community Justice Board in about a decade.
“I could totally see that,” I told her. “You’d make a great lawyer. Or Supreme Court judge, even.”
She laughed. “Thanks.”
That conversation was weeks ago, though, and Savannah’s not laughing now. She’s at the other end of the table, looking very far away and very serious. She wouldn’t tell me what she’d discussed with her father, just that he’d given her a few suggestions and helped her strategize. For a brief second, though, I spot a flicker of a smile on her lips, and it gives me hope.
The gavel comes down with a bang on the table and I flinch.
“This hearing will come to order,” says a senior named Susan Biltmore. “Each party will have the opportunity to speak, after which we’ll ask questions and reach an agreement as to the outcome.”
Mrs. Adler gets to go first again. She says pretty much the same thing she did in the headmistress’s office—that I was always late to class, skipped the review sessions, and therefore wasn’t ready on the day of the test, which led me to cheat. Which she caught me doing, red-handed.
And then it’s my turn. This time I’m feeling a little more prepared. I stand up and take a deep breath. Emma’s been lecturing me on backbone for the past few days—she calls it “getting my Jane on,” in honor of Jane Eyre—and mine is feeling a lot stronger than it had.
“First of all, I was only late to class once, when I overslept,” I state as loudly and clearly as I can. “I apologize for that; it was rude.” I try not to look at the Battleaxe, who is glaring at me. Instead, I focus on Savannah, who like her fellow CJB members is taking notes. “As far as the review sessions are concerned,” I continue, “I told Mrs. Adler ahead of time that I wouldn’t be able to attend, because of prior commitments.”
Emma helped me with that wording, too—“prior commitments” has a solid ring to it, she said. Very adult.
“On Monday afternoon I had an audition for a MadriGals solo that I’d spent weeks preparing for”—Savannah looks up from her notes and again I catch that flicker of a smile—“and then on Tuesday I had my regular voice lesson, which I didn’t want to cancel, and on Wednesday I went to see the Crandalls’ new baby. There was a sign-up sheet, and slots were going fast.”
Mrs. Adler sniffs. “Frivolous ‘commitments.”
“You’ll have another chance to speak in a moment, Mrs. Adler,” Susan Biltmore tells her crisply. “In the meantime, please refrain from any further remarks.”
The Battleaxe sniffs again.
“Maybe in retrospect I should have postponed visiting the Crandalls,” I admit. “But the fact is, I did prepare for the test. I studied on my own every night, and with my—with a friend. Someone from Alcott High.”
The board members confer amongst themselves for a moment.
“Is this friend willing to vouch for that fact?” Susan asks.
I nod. Darcy would be more than happy to help me out. Of course, if he does, my visits to the Concord Library might come to light. But it’s better than getting kicked out.
Time to get to the heart of the matter. I take another deep breath. “As for the cheating, it’s simple: I didn’t.”
“Nonsense,” cries Mrs. Adler, smacking the table with her hand. “Of course you did! I saw you with my own eyes.”
“You saw me bend over to pick up a pencil that I dropped, Mrs. Adler,” I reply as calmly as I can. “That’s all. I didn’t cheat.”
Susan Biltmore starts banging the gavel, but Mrs. Adler barges on ahead. “No one finishes a calculus test in half the allotted time without making a single mistake! Of course you cheated.”
“I didn’t,” I repeat, resisting the urge to raise my voice. Emma told me that keeping my cool would boost my credibility. Backbone, I remind myself, taking another deep breath. “I didn’t cheat.”
The Battleaxe starts to sputter again, ignoring the gavel. Finally, the headmistress is forced to step in.
“Bernice, please,” she says. “You’ll have another opportunity to speak in a minute.”
Savannah raises her hand, and Susan turns to her in relief. “The chair recognizes Savannah Sinclair.”
Savannah rises to her feet. She’s not quite as tall as Cassidy Sloane, but she’s tall, and she’s dressed today like all the other CJB members, in matching navy blazers over white shirts. From where I’m sitting, she looks every inch Supreme Court material.
“This would seem to be a case of she said/she said,” she tells her fellow board members. “It’s Jess’s word against Mrs. Adler’s at this point, with no witnesses, except a possible study partner of Jess’s. But no witnesses to the actual alleged cheating incident.”
“Go on,” says Susan.
“It seems to me that if Jess cheated—and in the spirit of full disclosure here I have to say that she’s my roommate and a good friend and that’s a very big if, as I find it inconceivable she’d ever do something like that—but if she did, the only possible reason she would have done so would be because she hadn’t mastered the material, right?”
Her fellow board members look at each other and shrug, then nod slowly. So do the faculty advisors and Mrs. Duffy.
“Well then, isn’t there a simple way of proving the validity of this charge?” Savannah continues. “What if we were to give Jess another calculus test right here and now? If she passes it, clearly she understands the material and would have had no reason to cheat. If she doesn’t, then we pursue the matter further.”
There’s another round of nods, and Susan Biltmore looks over at the Battleaxe. “Would that be acceptable to you, Mrs. Adler?”
“How am I to know that the two of you haven’t cooked this up between you?” Mrs. Adler replies suspiciously. “She’s your roommate, after all, a fact I might add was kept from me until now. Perhaps Jessica knew you were going to suggest this, and has simply studied the test and memorized the answers.”
“We’ll give her a different one,” says Savannah quickly.
It suddenly occurs to me that she’s planned this all ahead of time, and a second later, when Mr. Crandall walks in, I’m sure of it. Savannah gestures to him. “In fact, I’ve asked Mr. Crandall to prepare a new exam.”
Mrs. Adler frowns. “If you’re going to undermine my authority—”
“We have no intention of doing anything like that,” Mr. Crandall says smoothly. “Our intention is simply to determine the truth regarding one of Colonial Academy’s star students.” He glances briefly in my direction, and I think I detect a wink. My pulse, which has been clocking along at prestissimo, slows to moderato. “When Savannah came to me with this solution, I instantly saw the genius and practicality of it. Our goal here at Colonial is to see that our students master their subjects, and if Jess completes this exam as accurately as she did the other—on which she scored a hundred percent, by the way—”
“Because she cheated,” mutters Mrs. Adler.
Mr. Crandall ignores her. “—then it seems logical that this would give us our answer. If there’s no motive, after all, why would there ever have been a crime?”
“Shall we put it to a vote?” asks Savannah, pressing the point. Susan Biltmore nods, and at the other end of the table the board members confer for a minute with Mrs. Duffy and the faculty mentors. The result is unanimous: I’m to be given an impromptu exam.
I take my seat. My pulse picks up its tempo again but for entirely different reasons this time. Can I pull it off? So much is riding on the outcome!
Mr. Crandall walks down to my end of the table and hands me the test. His back is to the Community Justice Board and he smiles at me, then mouths the words good luck.
Aloud he says, “Take your time, Jess. There’s nothing more important than the welfare of one of our students, and we will all sit here quietly”—he glances down the table at Mrs. Adler, whose mouth is pinched into a thin line—“quietly,” he repeats, “while you complete the problems on the exam to the best of your ability.”
He passes me a calculator and a pencil, then takes a seat beside the headmistress. The minutes tick by. The problems are hard, and it doesn’t help that everyone is watching me. I can feel the Battleaxe’s eagle eyes practically boring holes in my shirt. I will myself to ignore her, along with everyone else in the room. It’s just me and the page of problems. My focus finally kicks in, and I start scribbling answers.
Twenty minutes later I’m done.
“You can’t be finished,” says Mrs. Adler, glaring at the clock as I stand up. “Don’t you want to double check your work?”
“I did,” I tell her, sliding the piece of paper down the table. Mr. Crandall scoops it up, scanning the first problem as he hands it to Mrs. Adler. He smiles.
The Battleaxe, however, isn’t willing to give up that easily. “It will take me some time to grade this,” she says, looking as if she just bit into an apple and found half a worm.
Time is the one thing I don’t have. I’m supposed to leave for New York first thing tomorrow morning with the rest of the MadriGals.
Mrs. Duffy leans forward in her chair. “Surely we could persuade you to at least take a preliminary look?”
Mrs. Adler grunts, but she glances down at the paper in her hand. A minute ticks by, and then another. “She got the first one right,” she finally admits.
Mr. Crandall gives me another sly wink, and I feel a huge weight lifts off my chest. “I think you’ll find that the next two are correct as well,” he tells her.
The headmistress nods. “Right, then. In light of Miss Sinclair’s excellent common-sense solution, I feel confident in recommending that the board cancel Jessica’s probation,” she says. “Unless the remainder of the test results prove otherwise, I fully expect she will be cleared of all charges.”
Wish You Were Eyre Page 12
