Ibite my bottom lip, focused intently on the chemistry exam in front of me. I don’t allow myself to think of Ben, or the fact that I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. And I refuse to let my thoughts wander to a silver-eyedandsilver-tongued devil.
In my peripheral vision, I catch the student next to me angling his body toward me. More specifically, my paper. He glances repeatedly between his exam and mine, his pencil scratching away furiously.
Frustration has me gritting my teeth at his obvious cheating. I shift in my seat to conceal my paper, but that doesn’t work. If it did, this wouldn’t be the second time this guy has copied me.
I clear my throat loudly and cover my answers with my arm. The student pauses, his brow furrowing, before he leans forward even further than before. I shoot him a pointed glare, which he promptly ignores.
With a sigh, I do my best to rush through the test, hoping he’ll be too slow and get the last section wrong. I worked hard last night studying the binary ionic compounds instead ofjoining Raven and June at a club. Not that it’s my scene, but anything is better than chemistry.
I make a mental note to speak to Professor Ames about this during his office hours. Integrity matters to me. Also, I can’t afford to lose my scholarship because of some random twat waffle cheating off of me.
As soon as I finish the test, I gather my things and give the student one final dirty look. He has the grace to look sheepish, but I don’t care. He’s still a liability.
I place my test on Professor Ames’s desk, avoiding his gaze. Ever since day one, I haven’t been able to look this man in the face. There’s a coldness in his eyes that chills me to the bone, like he’s one manic episode away from becoming a psychopath.
“Wait a moment, Miss Scott.”
His voice stops me cold. I turn back to meet his gaze and immediately regret it. His eyes are bright with anticipation, similar to the way I look at a spider before smashing it. Repeatedly.
He leans forward and lowers his voice. It takes everything inside me to hold my ground and not take a step back.
“I couldn’t help but notice some concerning behavior this morning,” he says. “I’ll be reporting your academic dishonesty to the Integrity Board. Today.”
“What?” I cringe at the volume of my voice. It wasn’t a screech per se, but it wasn’t far off. “I didn’t do anything wrong.Hecheated off ofme. Today isn’t the first time either.”
Professor Ames tilts his head. “And yet you haven’t mentioned it. This means you were assisting him.” He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “I understand this is upsetting, but we take integrity very seriously here. I suggest you speak with your student advisor as quickly as possible.”
With my mind spinning, I leave the room and head straight to the administration building. My panic over this unjustsituation has my stomach tying in knots, and by the time I’m sitting in Mrs. Shipley’s office chair, I’m close to fainting.
“Delilah,” she says, her forehead wrinkling with concern, “what’s wrong?”
It takes me several deep breaths to clear the spots from my vision and to steady my racing pulse. I grip the armrests to ground myself and to keep from falling on the floor.
“I was just accused of cheating during Professor Ames’s exam, which is complete and total horseshit, bullshit, and pigshit.”
The woman delicately clears her throat and tucks a gray strand of hair back into the bun at the base of her head, before adjusting her glasses. In their reflection I can see myself, my expression borders on hysteria. So opposite of her professionalism.
She laces her fingers and sets them on the desk. “Start from the beginning.”
I tell her everything about the other student and my attempts to discourage him from copying. “Now I’m in danger of losing my scholarship. I can’t stay here without it.”
“This is very serious, my dear.”
I cover my face with my hands and groan. “I know.”
“Accusations like this can have severe consequences.”
“I know,” I repeat. I drop my hands into my lap and hang my head. “Is there anything I can do? I mean, there has to be a way to prove my innocence.”
She nods slowly, her gaze narrowing in thought. “Let me look into this.”
After reaching for the phone on her desk, she dials an extension and engages someone in a brief conversation. I watch her like she’s going to disappear if I so much as blink. My heart rate skyrockets again, and I have to concentrate on breathing evenly to avoid passing out.
Mrs. Shipley hangs up the phone. “Professor Ames is willing to reconsider the situation, but he still believes that you are at fault for failing to report the other student. To resolve this issue without escalating it to the Academic Integrity Board, he’s proposing an alternative.”
“What is it? I’ll do anything.”
The woman nods. “Instead of facing a formal investigation, he suggests you sign a contract.”
