The Ivy: Scandal (12 page)

“Why are
you
, dude, acting so weird?” OK shot back.

Mimi started to giggle.

“Fine—take it!” OK snapped, handing her the coffee. “I really ought to be getting home anyway.”

“
Merci, monseigneur
,” Mimi thanked him. “
Veux-tu une escorte a
Wigglesworth?”

“I guess,” OK said sourly.

He
is
acting odd, Callie thought, watching him closely. Normally he’d be screaming, “How high?” before Mimi had even said, “Jump.” He must actually like the new girl—whoever she was.

“If some…girl shows up looking for you,” said Matt, “should we tell her that you couldn’t make it?”

“A girl!” yelped Mimi, appearing, yet again, on the verge of giggles. “
Ooh la la, qui est-elle, cette femme mystère?
”

“Yes,” Callie echoed. “Who is this mystery woman?”

OK glared at Mimi. “You know very well”—he eyed Matt and Callie—“that
I am not meeting anyone! There’s no mystery! None! Good-bye!” he cried. “Mimi?”

Laughing, Mimi followed him down the ramp that led out of the Science Center, turning back at the bottom and pressing a finger to her lips.

“Well,” said Callie, watching them walk away through the enormous glass window overlooking the front entrance to the Science Center. “That was weird.”

“No kidding,” Matt agreed.

“Any idea who…?”

“No,” said Matt. “But OK has definitely been entertaining a regular guest recently, based on the—er—noises coming from his bedroom. You would think, what with Gregory gone, that all the crazy hookup—sorry.”

“Maybe it’s that senior who bid a thousand dollars on him at the date auction?” Callie said quickly.

“Good call,” said Matt. “But I can’t see what’s so embarrassing about that or why else it would be worth hiding.”

Callie shrugged. “Maybe it’s the weather.” Stretching, she continued to gaze out the window. Outside under the April sun, the stone fountain flowed merrily, splashing onto the surrounding grass as people strolled up and down the cement walkways. A small group of students clustered around the stone benches farther away toward the back entrance to Harvard Yard, some bent over what looked like a bunch of butcher paper and cardboard.

“What do you suppose they’re doing?” Callie asked. Squinting,
she watched a girl attach one of the sheets of cardboard to the edge of a large stick and then lift it above her head. A sign! Callie couldn’t read it from so far away or make out any of the students’ features, but still, it had to be: “A protest!” she cried. “Any idea what for?”

“Uh,” said Matt, staring at the table. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” Callie demanded, rounding on him.

“Well, we did publish an article yesterday that briefly referenced a protest scheduled to take place outside the Science Center this afternoon…you know, to save introductory Latin?”

“Ooh,” said Callie slowly. “So
that’s
why you wanted to meet at the Greenhouse Café.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Matt muttered, going scarlet. “I happen to like the coffee here. And, you know, while we’re on the subject, I like Latin, too!”

“You know who else likes Latin?” Callie asked. “Grace! Come on, Matt. Just admit it. You’re obsessed. And besides,
nobody
likes the coffee here. It’s terrible.”

“That’s not…entirely…Fine,” he conceded suddenly. “You win! I like her! A lot! At least as much as any man can…like a woman…who barely knows he’s alive.”

“She knows you’re alive!” said Callie. “Weren’t you just saying how much she’s been relying on you lately?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same thing as wanting to date me.”

Callie chewed her lip, unsure how to proceed. She could take the Vanessa approach (i.e., “OMG _____ totally looooves you, you
have to go for it!”), or try to discourage him the way Dana might (i.e., “Don’t you have a project due tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be concentrating on that?”), or refuse all involvement by feigning ignorance with the Mimi route (i.e., “Wait—
who
are we speaking of again?”). In truth, she had no idea whether to encourage or dissuade, having never known Grace to even so much as speak about any romantic interests.

“I guess,” Callie started, “that things are slightly complicated by the fact that she is—or, uh, was—your boss, so making a move could lead to potential awkwardness around the office.”

“I know.” Matt moaned, burying his face in his palms.

“On the other hand,” Callie continued, “if you don’t tell her how you feel, you might never know if those feelings are mutual.”

Pausing, they both turned to stare out the window. Callie could just make out Grace now, marching in a circle and carrying a sign with the rest of the protesters, some of whom wielded megaphones, which they were probably using to chant Latin phrases.

“To be honest,” Callie started gently, “I don’t know if you’re her type—but that’s only because I don’t know if she even
has
a type! She always seems so strictly business that I’m having a hard time picturing what she’d be like on a date.”

“Oh god,” said Matt, who’d been inadvertently gnawing on his knuckles. “Do you think she’s already seeing some other guy? Of course she is! How could I be so stupid! She’s so much smarter than I am and her hair is so shiny and she always smells like freshly printed newspapers and—”

Callie reached for his hands, pulling them away from his mouth and slowly setting them on the table.

“Regardless of whether or not it works out with Grace,” she said firmly, “you are a great guy and a total catch, and even if it doesn’t happen today, or tomorrow, someday soon you
will
find that someone who is perfect for you.”

“So you
don’t
think she’s already dating someone else?” Matt asked, transfixed by the protesters outside.

Callie sighed. “I think that if you really want to know, you should probably just ask her—maybe before trying to tell her how you feel?”

“So I
should
tell her?” Matt asked, tearing his eyes away from the window.

“Um…” Callie faltered. “I can’t make that decision for you. But I think what it ultimately comes down to is this: are you willing to take that risk? Are you prepared for any outcome even if it doesn’t end up being the one that you’d hoped for?”

Slowly Matt nodded.

Callie started to smile as his head continued to bob up and down with increasing vigor—until all of a sudden he started shaking it violently from side to side.

“Nope!” he cried. “Can’t do it!”

“Matt,” said Callie, watching him leap to his feet.

“Just forget this whole conversation ever happened. Hey, you finished?” he added, reaching for her nearly empty salad container and coffee cup.

“Um, sure, but—”

“We should probably get going, then,” he called, tossing their garbage in the trash.

“Matt,” Callie repeated standing. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” he reassured her, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Really. I’m sure we both have a lot of work to do.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Callie, grabbing her book bag. “Let’s go.”

Matt still seemed highly agitated as they pushed their way through the double doors leading outside the Science Center.

“We could sneak around the back if you want,” Callie suggested, tilting her head toward a path that would allow them to bypass the protesters. There appeared to be about forty of them in total, plus roughly fifteen other students who had stopped to stare.

“Don’t worry,” Matt muttered, striding in the direction of Grace and the rest of the group. “It’s not like I’m going to grab her and announce my love right here and now—”

“Matt?” Callie turned, realizing he was no longer walking beside her.

A dreamy look had passed across his face as he watched the protesters march, waving their signs and chanting in Latin.

Callie glanced back at the crowd, where Grace stood out despite being brief in stature, holding one of the largest signs of all, which read, in huge purple lettering, CARPE DIEM.

Oh no, thought Callie, turning. “Matt, what are you…?”

“Hey!” he cried suddenly, dashing past her toward the guy closest to them on the outskirts of the group. “Can I borrow that?”

“Matt!” Callie cried, running to catch up. She couldn’t hear the guy’s response, but she did see him shrug and hand Matt his megaphone.

Before she could cry out again, Matt had climbed onto a stone bench, his head towering several feet above the crowd. Callie cringed as he raised the megaphone to his lips.

“GRACE,” he boomed. “GRACE LEE!”

The protesters paused, all eyes on Matt.

“I LOVE YOU, GRACE LEE!” he shouted into the megaphone, sounding almost drunk on his own adrenaline. “I’ve loved you since the moment you first yelled at me during COMP, and if you would just agree to go on one date with me, it would make me the happiest freshman that ever walked this campus!”

Callie could hardly bear to watch as Grace slowly lowered her sign.

The crowd drew silent. Grace grabbed a megaphone from a girl standing near her and yelled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Robinson? Get down from there!”

Some of the protesters cheered and others laughed, while a few appeared sympathetically dismayed. No one, however, looked worse than Matt, whose face had gone a nasty shade of gray. Tossing the megaphone back to the boy he had borrowed it from, he jumped off the bench and started walking rapidly in the direction of Wigglesworth.

Quickly weaving her way through the crowd, Callie followed him.

“And what are the rest of you doing standing around and
staring?” she heard Grace bark, still speaking into the megaphone. “Are we here to gawk, or are we here to save Latin?”

“
Salvum Latinae!
” several people cheered, waving their signs. “
Protestatione curriculum mutationes!
”

Callie had almost caught up to Matt when she heard someone call her name. “Andrews! Robinson! Just a minute, please.” As usual, that authoritative voice was impossible to disobey. “I’m flattered, Robinson,” the former managing editor continued bluntly as they turned to face her, “but I’m also gay.”

“Gay?” Matt repeated, his mouth hanging open.

“Yes,” said Grace. “As in I like girls, not boys.”

Callie stared at the trunk of the nearest tree. On the (long) list of her life’s all-time Most Awkward Moments, this had definitely just skyrocketed up into the top five, eclipsing that time she dropped a box of underwear in front of Gregory on the first day of school and then flashed the entire freshman class when she slipped in the dining hall a few days later.

Matt continued to gape. Grace watched him, waiting for a reaction. The silence lingered until Callie couldn’t take it anymore. “Thank you for, uh, choosing to confide in us,” she blurted, struggling to remember the contents of the “Coming Out” section of an LGBT pamphlet passed out on Diversity Day back in high school. “We, um, appreciate how difficult this must have been for you,” she continued, forcing herself to meet Grace’s eyes, “but we want you to know that we fully support you and…your lifestyle choices.”

To her great surprise, Grace started to laugh. “Don’t tell me you
thought this was my first time coming out!” she roared, throwing her head back. “And to you two, of all people!”

Callie glanced at Matt, who still appeared dumbfounded.

Grace wiped her eyes. “Ah,” she sighed when she had regained her composure. “Sorry. I’ve been out for over a year—two years to my closest friends—and so I just assumed that by now everybody knew.”

“Well, clearly not everybody,” said Callie, almost cracking a smile. She poked Matt in the ribs.

He jumped, looking like a lovelorn puppy torn between embarrassment and relief. “Are you…sure?”

“Quite sure,” Grace replied, patting him on the arm. “Otherwise, I’m quite sure I would have accepted your invitation. Though maybe next time you ask a woman for a date, you should consider doing so in a less dramatic fashion. I am, after all, still your…boss.”

The last word hung in the air, technically no longer true.

Callie stared at the pavement.

“I will take that under advisement,” Matt murmured, his features finally relaxing. “And, er, Grace,” he said, glancing between her and Callie. “There’s something you should know. Callie didn’t write those Insider articles.”

“Then who did?” Grace asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I don’t know yet,” said Callie. “But I strongly suspect that Alexis Thorndike is involved.”

Matt grimaced. “That’s just one theory. But we don’t really have any evidence—”

“
Yet
,” Callie interjected.

“And I for one,” Matt pressed on, “am having difficulty believing that any one person could be so…well, evil. I mean, blackmailing and boyfriend stealing are one thing, but trying to ruin careers and get people expelled?”

“I wouldn’t underestimate her if I were you,” said Grace. “I believe she is capable of all that and more. But the question isn’t whether or not she
would
do it. The question is
did
she do it and, if so, how to prove it.”

Callie stared at her. If there was one person in the world who hated Lexi more than Callie did, it was Grace, though the reason why remained a mystery. Callie knew they had roomed together their freshman year and that Lexi had transferred to a different dorm around the same time that the
Crimson
had cut her from their first semester of COMP. Grace, obviously, had made it through and gone on to become managing editor, but even though Lexi rose quickly in the ranks at
FM
magazine, the relationship between the two girls had remained, to quote Marcus Taylor, “one hair pull away from a cat fight to the death.”

“So you’ll help me, then?” Callie asked. She waited, holding her breath.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you believe me,” Callie said softly.

Grace sighed. “I believe…that there is more going on here than meets the eye. And I also believe that as long as Lexi continues to run the
Crimson
, the integrity of the paper is at risk.”