The Ivy: Scandal (20 page)

A thin line of light scattered across the floor as her flashlight rolled away. Callie closed her eyes. This was it. Someone had stayed late to work in one of the conference rooms or managerial offices. Now she’d been caught, and if her fate hadn’t been certain before, it was certainly inevitable now: she was going to be expelled. What
other punishment could there possibly be for breaking and entering into an organization that the administration had explicitly banned her from ever setting foot in again?

The backs of her eyelids suddenly turned bright yellow. Blinking, she found herself momentarily blinded. The beam of another flashlight shone down on her, making it impossible to see anything but blackness behind the circle of light.

“
Qu’est-ce l’enfer…Callie?
” a familiar voice demanded.

“
Mimi?
” Callie replied in disbelief.

“Callie!” Mimi answered, finally pointing the flashlight elsewhere and bending down.

Callie allowed Mimi to help her to her feet. “What the—what are you doing in here?”

“
Shh!
” Mimi silenced her, scooping up Callie’s flashlight and then pulling her down past the rows of computer desks. “In here,” she continued, pushing Callie toward Grace’s old office. “
Rapidement, s’il vous plaît!
”

Callie hurried through the door, closing it as Mimi clicked on the desk lamp. Dim light flooded the room. Callie could now see Mimi, clad in an all-black outfit quite similar to her own.

“What are you doing here?” Callie demanded in a whisper.

“What am
I
doing here?” Mimi repeated incredulously. “
Qu’est-ce que tu fais ici
?”

“Looking for answers,” said Callie, unfolding the log-in records and holding them up. “I thought if I could come back here and get a sense of which computers the Insider used, then I might suddenly remember seeing Lexi—or whoever else—there that day.”

Surveying the log-in records, Mimi nodded slowly.

“Now tell me why you’re here,” said Callie.

Mimi made a face. “It is technically the business of the
Harvard Lampoon
that must remain most top secret,” she began. “May I trust that your loyalty to me is greater than to the
Harvard Crimson
?”

Callie almost smiled. “They did kick me out, you know. And I think you also know by now that you can trust me. Nothing you say will leave this room.”

“I do know,” Mimi replied with a grin. “But it never hurts to triple-check.”

“Double-check?” asked Callie, smiling now.

“Why double when you can triple?
Tout cas
, I have come here
dans l’obscurité de la nuit
to make the
Crimson
full of loose screws.”

“Huh?” said Callie. “You’re trying to make everyone here crazy?”

“Not
crazy
.” Mimi shook her head. “I am speaking literally of loose screws,
pas l’expression américaine
.”

“You mean…you’re in here”—Callie suddenly remembered the way that the desk had toppled over when she had leaned against it—“Loosening all the screws in the building?”

“
Exactement!
” affirmed Mimi.

Callie laughed, struggling to stay as quiet as possible.

“You will not tell, will you?” asked Mimi.

“No,” said Callie, still laughing. “I won’t. I wish I could be here to see the look on Lexi’s face when…” Callie turned, realizing exactly whose office she stood in now. Framed issues of
FM
decorated the walls. Grace’s old newspaper articles and photos of
female journalists she admired had all been removed. A picture of Lexi and Clint stood on the desk; a Missoni scarf was strewn casually over the back of that familiar, ergonomic chair. Callie let forth an involuntary shiver.

“They stole our ibis again,” Mimi implored, mistaking the meaning of Callie’s anxious expression.

“Your
what
?”

“It is our…What is your word for
girouette
?”

Callie drew a blank.

“
C’est la
copper-colored bird
au sommet de notre
castle.”

“The…weathervane with the bird on top of your castle?”

“
Oui!
” Mimi looked relieved. “
Un
weather-vane
c’est la girouette, en français
.”

“Got it,” said Callie.

“Last time they stole it was in the year 1953,” Mimi explained. “They presented it as a ‘peace offering’ to the Soviets during the Cold War for the newly constructed
Université de Moscou. Il a été un désastre!
”

“Yes,” said Callie, “I can see how that would be a disaster.”

“The Lampoon president and the treasurer are upstairs on the second floor looking for it now,” Mimi confessed. “We doubt they would be so stupid as to keep it here in their offices, but even if we do not locate it…”

“You’re still pranking them back,” Callie finished.

“
Oui
,” said Mimi. “So be
très, très
cautious not to touch any of the desks while you are checking the computers. Otherwise…
kaboom
!” she whispered gleefully, pounding her fist into her palm.

“Okay,” said Callie.

“
Après réflexion
,” Mimi started, “I had better take that,” she pointed at the log-in records, “and examine
les ordinateurs
on your behalf.”

“Why?” asked Callie, handing her the sheet of paper nonetheless.

“If the bosses upstairs were to catch you, there is no telling what they would do,” Mimi said gravely. “Kidnapping, at the very least, I am thinking.”

“All right,” Callie consented.

“Returning momentarily,” said Mimi, slipping out of the office.

Callie felt even more on edge now that she was alone in Lexi’s lair.

Several hair-raising minutes passed until finally Mimi returned.

“Monitors seventeen, twenty, twenty-two, and twenty-five are all located in the back of the office on this floor,” Mimi whispered, shutting the door behind her.

“Are you sure?” asked Callie, crestfallen. She had been praying that at least one of the computer stations would be located upstairs on the second floor offices that housed
FM
, where Lexi had spent the majority of her time prior to her promotion.

“
Positif
.” Mimi nodded.

“Crap,” said Callie, frowning and chewing her lip. Closing her eyes, she struggled to picture what the office had looked like on a typical day during COMP. Try as she might, she could not call to mind any specific individual who spent the majority of his or her time in the back—especially since she and Matt had always done their work in the front, facing away from the rows and rows of
computers behind them. And, while COMPers had been known to lie low at the rear computers so as to avoid marauding editors in search of an errand runner, Callie had never, not once, seen Lexi use a computer on the first floor.

Callie sighed heavily. “Is it safe to sneak out the front door?” she asked. “I mean, are the other two Lampoon people still upstairs?”

“
Pourquoi donc quitter maintenant?
” Mimi appeared puzzled. “Oh,
désolé
,” she added in response to Callie’s equally confused expression. “I have said, ‘Why in your right mind would you leave
now
?’”

“Because breaking in was a total bust,” said Callie. “I don’t know why I thought being back here would help me.” If anything, it had made things worse: reminding her of what she had lost—and everything else she still stood to lose.

“Have your screws come loose?” Mimi cried in hushed tones, grabbing Callie by the shoulders. “
Regarde ça!
Where better to find the proof you seek than in the office of your prime suspect?”

Callie stared at her. “I couldn’t…I mean, I shouldn’t…should I?”

“But of course you should!” Mimi replied. “Now, before we are discovered!”

Callie felt perspiration begin to form along her brow. Slowly she scanned the surface of Lexi’s desk, from the photo of Clint to the telephone to the container full of pens. “But there’s nothing here!” she whispered in a panic.

“
Ne sois pas une un idiote!
” Mimi admonished her. “Open the drawers!”

“Oh,” said Callie. “Right.” Cringing, she pulled open the top
drawer of Lexi’s desk. Inside she found more pens and what looked like a day planner. Seizing the little red leather-bound book, she opened it and began to read. It was, indeed, a day planner.

A tiny bead of sweat trickled down Callie’s temple when she looked up at Mimi. “Do you know how to use a Xerox machine?”

“‘Do I know how to’—yes, of course I do!” Mimi snapped. “
Dois-je ressembler à une idiote?
”

“Good,” said Callie, gesturing at the copy machine in the corner. “Then can you please make copies of the entries for February third and nineteenth, March eighth, and April fourth?”

“It would be faster just to steal it,” Mimi muttered.

“Yes, but then she’d notice that it was missing,” said Callie.

“Fine,” Mimi mumbled, taking the organizer and turning on the copy machine. “If you are insisting.”

While the copy machine whirred to life, Callie busied herself with the other drawers.

“Any luck?” Mimi asked after a few minutes had passed, presenting Callie with the Xeroxed pages from Lexi’s organizer.

“I can’t seem to find anything else that looks relevant,” Callie said, shutting one of the drawers a little more loudly than she had intended in frustration. “Although I’m sure this locked drawer must have something,” she said, pointing to the bottom of the desk, “if only I had a key.”

Mimi’s eyes lit up. “Did somebody say…
keys
?” she asked, pulling a wrench out of a duffel bag that Callie hadn’t noticed earlier in the corner.

“Uh, Mimi—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Mimi insisted, taking several other items from the duffel, including a screwdriver, a pen knife, some rubber bands, a handful of nails, and an enormous plastic bag filled to the brim with screws. “Ah-ha!” she cried. “Voilà!” She dangled in the air a huge silver ring with an assortment of approximately thirty keys.

“Where did you get these?” Callie asked, accepting the key ring.

“Trust me: you are not wanting to know where, how, or when.”

“Point taken,” said Callie, trying to fit one of the smaller keys into the bottom drawer’s lock. It refused to turn. “Do you really think that one of these is going to work?” she asked, trying the next one.

“We at the Lampoon have power you could not even begin to dream of,” said Mimi. Callie, as always, had no idea if she was kidding.

“Well, if there’s any proof at all,” said Callie, still bent by the desk trying key after key, “then it’s going to be here in this drawer. I’ve seen it open once before when her desk was still upstairs, that day she gave me a copy of the old sex tape in exchange for my breaking up with Clint—”

“
Hush
!” Mimi cried, looking stricken. “Did you hear—”

There was no need for her to finish her sentence: the footsteps were now audible, rapidly approaching the office of the managing editor.

“Under the desk, now,” Mimi hissed at Callie, who dived under as the door creaked open.

“What’s taking you so long in here, Clément?” a male voice asked.

The muscles in Callie’s shoulders relaxed just the teensiest bit: from the sound of it, the intruders were the Lampoon members who had been upstairs and not the administration, the
Crimson
staff—or the police.

“I thought I might stop and pick some daisies,” Mimi deadpanned.

A second voice followed the sound of the initial speaker chuckling. “Pack up your bag. It’s time to go.”

Callie listened to Mimi throw the items she’d removed back into her duffel.

“Did you finish loosening all the screws in here?” the first guy asked.

A pause.

“
En fait
,” said Mimi slowly, “I have had an even better idea.”

“Oh yeah?” asked the second guy.

“
Oui
,” said Mimi. “I am thinking that we should steal her chair instead. Special treatment for a very special editor.”

The silence seemed to drag on forever.

“Brilliant. I love it.”

“Please, allow me,” Mimi insisted, intercepting footsteps that appeared to have been headed for the desk.

Callie spotted Mimi’s ankles move into view. Bending, Mimi pretended to grip the bottom of the chair. Now face to face with Callie, she widened her eyes, staring at the keys.

“
But
,” Callie mouthed, “
I haven’t
…”

Lips pressed together, Mimi shook her head and held out her hand.

In desperation, Callie mimed sliding one of the smaller keys off the ring.

Mimi nodded, grabbing the ring and doing it for her. Then, tossing the key at Callie, she straightened. “Whoopsie-daisy,” she said, holding up the ring. “Almost forgot these.”

“Come on,” said one of the guys. “We need to leave, now.”

“
Je comprends, je comprends
,” said Mimi, dragging the chair behind her.

Craning her neck, Callie saw Mimi grin and throw the Missoni scarf over her shoulder. “
Un souvenir
.”

“Great,” said a voice. From the sound of it, the owner was retreating toward the door. “Go time.”

Someone switched off the desk light, and then a few seconds later Callie heard the door to the office click shut. She forced herself to count to thirty before crawling out from under the desk. Her hand that held the flashlight was shaking, but she didn’t dare turn on the desk lamp again. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she picked up the key and inserted it into the lock.

It slid in easily.

Then it turned.

“Gottcha,” Callie murmured, yanking open the drawer.

There were only two items inside.

The first was a USB thumb drive labeled C, A—INSURANCE.

“You bitch,” Callie said, pocketing it. Months ago Lexi had mentioned having another copy of the tape, but until now Callie hadn’t known whether or not to believe her.