Heart (22 page)

“So, you’re back to playing
Romeo and Juliet
?” I smiled at Kema’s little dig, having spent enough time around her to know she couldn’t help her sarcasm.

“Don’t say that. They ended up dead!” Mickey cried, helping himself to another slice of pizza. We were supposed to be having a study party, but it had somehow ended up being more about gossip around the kitchen table than revision.

“Okay. Which story is it like then? All those stupid fairy tales we’re fed from birth where the only thing for a girl to do is get herself a prince and she’s guaranteed a happy-ever-after? They don’t even have a life after they get married, for God’s sake!”

“They’re not all like that,” Ruby said, quietly standing up to Kema’s strident feminism. “And those stories are hundreds of years old, from when girls didn’t have any life other than being a wife and mother. It’s different today.”

“So, tell me a story which ends differently then.”

“This isn’t a story. This is Neve’s life.” I could have applauded Ruby, but hugged her instead.

“Thanks, Rube. Look, I don’t know how it’s going to turn out. But who does? Life throws shit at you sometimes. I just know I want to be with Jake when it does. That’ll do for now. I’m not naïve enough to expect it will be plain sailing to a happy-ever-after.” Of course, that was what I wanted, what I hoped for, but Kema wasn’t the person to admit that to. “More importantly, who wants ice cream?”

After we had shared the tub of chocolate deliciousness, Kema left and the three of us moved to Ruby’s room. Sitting on her bed, surrounded by candles and incense, we again pretended to study. Ruby was the first to admit defeat.

“I’ve had enough. I know I’m doing well enough to pass these courses and that’s all we’ve got to do this year.”

“True. I’m thinking about swapping to just American Studies at the end of this semester,” I shared.

“Really? But I thought you loved English Lit? Don’t get me wrong, it’ll be great to have you in more of my classes, but don’t rush into anything. There’s a few weeks until you have to confirm next semester’s choices.” Mickey surprised me with his sensible advice.

“Why do you want to swap?” Ruby asked.

“I’ve just been thinking about it and I prefer those classes. The only thing I’m not sure about is the year in the States. You have to do that if it’s your major.” I knew it would be difficult to spend a year in America without Jake. But I also knew we could survive it.

“So, it’s nothing to do with Garrett, then?”

“No. Not really. Not much.” I knew the real answer to Ruby’s question, just as much as she did. It was a hopeless lie.

“If it is, you can sort that out. You shouldn’t change your course just because he’s being so vile.” Ruby’s comment had me intrigued. We hadn’t talked much about him after I ignored her initial warning.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know, with the things he’s saying.”

“
The things he’s saying
? What the hell is he saying?” I had taken his silence as a positive thing. It turned out he wasn’t being so silent after all.

“Oh, God. I thought you knew.” She looked at Mickey, whose face gave away his lack of surprise.

“
You
knew? Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to mess up the weekend for you… and I’d hoped it would just go away. That
he
would go away,” he admitted.

“What would? What has he been saying?” I needed to hear it, however bad it was. And it was bad.

Garrett was spreading rumours,
lies
, about me. Both Mickey and Ruby had heard them via friends of friends. Apparently, I was a sleazy tramp of a girl: we’d even been caught almost having sex by the seafront. Apparently, I sought out rich boys for rough, dirty sex and then made them buy me things: things like dresses from posh shops.
Shit
. The glimmers of truth to the rumours were enough to make the whole thing all too real.

“Why are people believing him? You said he’d spread rumours about that other girl. Don’t they know what a bastard he is?”

“Possibly. But he’s also charming. And rich. People want to be liked by him. So they side with him and play friendly. At your expense.”

“What do I do?”

“Nothing. They’re rumours. As soon as people see that you don’t have anything to do with him, or any other guy here, they’ll forget it. What are your other options? Take him on? The girl never wins in a slut-shaming contest, Neve.” As pissed off as I was by what he said, I knew Mickey was right.

I needed to lay low and that fitted in with my plans for the next couple of weeks. I wanted to clear all of my work so I could spend some undisturbed time with Jake when he came down. I’d go to classes and stay close to my room. Things would calm down.

Yeah, right
.

Three days of self-imposed isolation later, my Victorian Literature tutor asked me to stay after her seminar. As the other students left the classroom, I was nervous. I’d never been someone to get into trouble at school, and the serious tone of her request made me anxious.

She took a seat at right angles to me and took out the essay I had handed in a couple of weeks earlier. I breathed a sigh of relief, believing it was just a personal feedback session.

“I’ve had to grade this a Fail, Neve.”
What
? I’d never failed an English assignment in my life. My horror must have been clear on my face. “I know that is hard to hear, but you must have expected this could happen. It was a calculated risk, after all.”

“What? I don’t know what you mean? What risk?”

“Colluding on an essay. We know that many students study together, but the university made it very clear in the induction programme that all assignments must be completed individually. You’ve had clear information on the regulations around collusion and plagiarism.” I knew that. But I didn’t know why she was telling me that.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Are you suggesting I’ve colluded on this essay?”

“I’m not suggesting it, Neve. We know it has taken place.” The calm, utterly-patronising tone of her voice riled me.

“But it hasn’t. It was all my own work. I slaved over that essay. How can you say this?”

“Now, there’s no point getting angry. What’s done is done. What we do need to do is talk about the consequences of your choice.” What choice? I was still completely unaware as to what I had done, but I needed to calm down before I made the situation worse.

“I’m sorry, Hillary, I don’t get it. That essay was all my own work. Honestly.”

“I spoke to Garrett yesterday and know what you’ve been going through,” she said quietly, her voice laced with false sincerity. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear his name mentioned as part of the next crappy turn my life appeared to be taking.

“What has this got to do with Garrett?”

“Well, I showed him the similarities between the two essays and he admitted it straight away. He told me about helping you. I wish you’d come and spoken to one of us about, you know, the problems with your boyfriend. We understand what it can be like in your first few months here. We would have listened. As it is, once you’ve submitted the work, it has to be awarded a Fail. I don’t know if you thought changing seminar groups would make it less likely to be found out, but—”

“Helping me? Sorry… I still don’t understand what is going on. Garrett hasn’t helped me at all with the essay. And, if it’s about my so-called problems, well, he’s it.
He’s
my problem! And that is
my
bloody essay!”

“Now, calm down, Neve. You need to face up to what you’ve done. Both you and Garrett get the same sanction. This doesn’t mean you’ve failed the course, but you have now got an academic misconduct warning. The next time you get one,
if
there is a next time, you will be issued with a final academic warning. That would put you at risk of having to leave.”
Having to leave?
The bastard had now managed to put my university place in jeopardy? I have never regretted anything in my life as much as speaking to him that first time.

“Do you have a copy of the two essays?” I needed to see how he had managed to do it.

“I’ve attached a copy of Garrett’s to your work, as per the regulations. I’ve highlighted the evidence of collusion. As Garrett has admitted to it, there is a very limited right of appeal; the process is outlined in this letter. What I suggest you do, Neve, is learn from this. If you’re struggling or need help, ask. Don’t think this is the answer.” Knowing I wasn’t going to get any support from her, I took the essay and left. Seething.

Me:
Where are you?

Mickey:
About to go in to lecture. You OK?

Me:
NO! Come to my room after? Please?

Mickey:
Course. With coffee?

Me:
With a gun?

Mickey:
You’re kidding right?!

Me:
Not sure. :(

Mickey:
I’ll be there xxxxx

He arrived less than fifteen minutes later.

“I thought you had a lecture?”

“Yeah, well, I thought you had a burning desire to kill someone and I didn’t want to end up a prison widow.” He hugged me and handed over a large mocha. “So, what’s up?” I told him what had happened with my tutor.

“Let’s look at the essay. Maybe it’s just a coincidence?” His good intentions were not what I needed.

“It can’t be. I wrote it by myself. Most of it whilst locked away in here. The only other people involved in writing it are Lorde and Tom Odell.” I handed it over, certain of what he would find, whilst I re-read the university warning letter, cringing that such a thing even existed with my name on it.

“So?” I asked, concerned that he was so quiet.

“It
is
really similar, Neve. Well, chunks of it are.”

“What? It can’t be? It’s my fucking essay!”

“Look,” he said, pointing out a section from each. Shit. They
were
almost identical. “And here.” He pointed out another of the highlighted paragraphs in Garrett’s essay which had the same quotations, the same line of argument, even some of the same phrasing as a paragraph in mine.

“I don’t get it. How could he do this?”

“Revenge? Because he’s a shit-faced bastard?”

“No, I mean,
how
could he do it? He wasn’t around when I was writing it.”

“Has he borrowed your notes? Had access to your laptop?”

“No. He copied some of my notes from a lecture, but that wouldn’t have given him access to this. I don’t get it.” I thought back through the time I had spent with Garrett. I’d never left him alone in my room so he wouldn’t have taken anything then. I would have noticed it missing anyway.

“What about your folder? Could he have taken that?” Again, I was sure he couldn’t. It was either in my room, with me, or in my bag. My bag. My heavy, book-filled bag.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid, so naïve.

“What?”

“I left my bag with Garrett in the library a couple of times. He must have copied them then.” I remembered the first time. It was raining and he’d lent me his umbrella and offered to guard my things when I went to an American Studies class. I’d thought he was being chivalrous, a gentleman, like he always claimed to be. The bastard. I’d gone along with it a couple of times, looking after his things in return when he went to a film screening. But I hadn’t gone through his stuff, had I?

“But he must have known he would get caught out? Uni has gone on and on about collusion and everything.”

“Maybe he wasn’t bothered about getting caught. Maybe that’s what he wanted.” I struggled to get my head around what Mickey was implying.

“You think he did this wanting to get caught?”

“I’m the last person to criticise your choice of friends, but he does seem a bit, well, mad. A bit prone to making very strange decisions to get what he wants. Just look at that whole Ritz thing. He’s not right in the head, Neve.”

“But he’s in trouble as well for it. She said we get the same punishment.” It just didn’t make sense.

“Yeah, but he can charm his way out of anything. If that doesn’t work, he gets Granny to pull a few strings. And if
that
doesn’t work, he moves to a university back home. He’s a rich kid with options. Remember, life’s not fair. Now, has he got anything else he can hold against you?”

I ransacked my brain, replaying every time I spent with Garrett, every conversation we had and found myself increasingly repulsed by the duplicity. But I couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe that was my only consolation: I was sure that there were no more things he could share, could do to mess up my life.

“How could I have got it so wrong? I thought he was a friend. I thought he was being nice.”

“He
was
being nice. It just changed when he realised you didn’t want what he did. And you were lonely. You’d just broken up with Jake. You hadn’t met yours truly yet,” he said with a grin. “And he was a sexy, charming American who paid you a bit of attention. There’s no point beating yourself up about it. Anyone would have fallen for it.” I wanted to do nothing more than believe he was right. But I knew better.