Page 91 of Pucking Good Girl

They’re going to escort Victor to the Dean’s office where the Dean is waiting with the sheriff and a few other members of the university’s board.

“Let’s go home. I’m tired.” Talia sighs once Victor is out of our sight.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she melts into my side. “What about Gen? Is she going to suffer any consequences for cheating? If Victor told the truth, she has been doing it for a while and not just with your class, Professor.”

A look passes between Professor Cantucci and Talia. “Don’t worry about that,” the professor says. “We’ll deal with Victor first, get his full statement to assess Miss Bergen’s full involvement, and then deal with her accordingly. It might take a few days, so in the meantime, can I trust you all not to say anything that could tip her off? I don’t want her to use her father’s influence to try to get away scot-free.”

“I doubt Brett will interfere with any disciplinary action,” Mack muses. “After the way she embarrassed him last summer during training camp, he cut her off financially. He isn’t impressed with his daughter’s behavior.”

Professor Cantucci’s tone is still cautious. “Good to know that. But I foresee the Dean wanting to press charges wherever appropriate. You never know what a concerned parent might do, given the circumstances. So, being on the safe side, please behave like you always do in Miss Bergen’s presence.”

“You got it, Professor,” Mack nods. “Believe me when I say that Gen deserves anything karma has in store for her. And I won’t lift one finger to help. If anything, I’ll bring some popcorn and enjoy the show.”

With that settled, we go home. Talia and Tucker are now in the clear with the cheating investigation, and we should celebrate.

CHAPTER 22

SOMETHING FISHY

Talia

It’s the day of the presentation of our group project.

An extra table has been added to Professor Cantucci’s desk so that we have enough room to set out all the food we have prepared for today’s banquet. We’re going to party like we’re in Ancient Rome.

Each group was assigned one dish to replicate and to research. In addition to the actual dish, we were all asked to provide a visual reference of the way our assigned dish was portrayed in the art that has reached us from ancient Rome.

Easels have been set out to display printouts of mosaics and paintings that have survived the test of time.

But the students aren’t the only ones who prepared food for this unconventional feast. Our professor contributed a whole table of delicacies made following Apicius’ famous recipe book.

There’s a dish of mushrooms with honey, one with soft-boiled eggs and pine kernels, and a plate of venison with caraway seeds. Next to all those dishes, there’s a card that instructs us to “add liquamen before eating.”

There is “puls” the Roman version of our modern oatmeal, platters of cheese, olives and grapes. Sausages and other meats and seafood, including oysters. A whole dessert section with all sorts of cheesecakes, with fruit and often poppy seeds, and sweet wine cakes baked with cinnamon draws the eye. The whole spread is completed by a selection of fruit tarts with figs, blackcurrants, apples, pears and strawberries.

“Ew,” Gen pinches her nose closed as I set the pot with the garum on the first table. “Homelessness doesn’t suit you, Talia. You should take a shower sometimes. You smell like rotten fish.”

I open my mouth to inform her that the smell doesn’t come from me, but Macklin is faster than me to respond.

“That’s the garum,” he bites out, setting a jar of equally malodorous allec near the garum. “And you should be one to talk about smelling fishy. Or did you forget that you waited for me in my room covered in nasty smelling sushi? Worst seduction attempt ever, if you ask me.”

“You’re such an asshole, Mack,” Gen snaps. “I can’t believe I was so hung up on you. After all, you and Homeless Barbie are a match made in heaven.”

Macklin doesn’t let his ex-girlfriend ruffle his feathers. “You keep saying that Talia is homeless.” He says calmly, “First off, people become homeless for many reasons, and you should be more compassionate rather than cast judgement. Secondly, Talia isn’t homeless. Becks and I were planning on asking her to move in with us eventually and when we realized that she wasn’t tied down anywhere, we jumped at the chance.”

The look on Genevieve’s face at the news is priceless. “You asked her to move in? In my daddy’s apartment?” Her voice goes up a few decibels as she becomes more upset with every word she utters. “You can’t do that! I’m going to call Daddy and get him to kick you out.”

Becks arrives at that precise moment. “I’d love to see you try, Gen. Our father paid the rent for the whole year. And I’m pretty sure Brett won’t put a two decade friendship at risk just to help you with your personal vendetta.”

“God, Becks. I can’t believe I considered dating you. You’re just the lesser brother. Less talented, less popular, less intelligent. Your verbal barbs are just like your slapshots. Weak and not as good as Mack’s.”

Becks ignores her, focusing his attention on me. “Let’s go take one last look at our presentation. We’re so getting an A for this project.”

Just as I turn around to follow Becks back to our seats, Gen leans in to whisper into my ear. “Do they know what you had to do not to be kicked out of school? I bet they wouldn’t be looking at you with adoring eyes if they knew that you’re fucking Victor.”

I smile at Genevieve. “I think you’re right. They’d probably look at me the same way they look at you.”

“You’re such a bitch, Talia,” she hisses, so that only I can hear her in the crowded classroom. “You’re fat, ugly and a disgusting charity case. I can’t wait to tell them that you’re also a whore.”