The Ivy: Scandal (21 page)

The second was a photo of a girl Callie didn’t recognize.
With mousy brown hair and nondescript features, the girl, who appeared to be around Callie’s age, was incredibly overweight, her eyes averted shyly from the camera.

Callie froze, clicking off the flashlight. Tilting her head, she listened.

Silence.

Probably just my imagination, she decided, though she could have sworn she’d heard a sound. She waited another full minute just to be sure and then clicked the flashlight back on. She stared at the drawer for several seconds but then stuck the picture into her pocket along with the copies of her log-in records and Lexi’s day planner pages. Then she locked the drawer, praying that Lexi wouldn’t be struck with the urge to blackmail anyone, or store any other contraband inside of it, soon.

In less than three minutes Callie had found her way back into the hall. Pulling the front door open just a crack, she peered outside into the darkness. Plympton Street was deserted.

Tiptoeing onto the stone steps, she pulled the door shut gently behind her. Then, with one final glance over her shoulder, she sprinted the entire way home.

“Fancy meeting the likes of you here,” said Mimi from the overstuffed armchair in the common room, where she was midway through removing her shoes.

Callie grinned, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. “I take it you made it back to the castle undetected?”

Mimi solemnly raised a finger to her lips. “I have not the
faintest of hints as to what you are speaking of. And where were
you
, out so late?”

“Just doing a little laundry.”

“
Vraiment
?” said Mimi, feigning disbelief. “
Moi aussi!
Our clothes are going to be so very clean.”

Callie laughed. “Good night, Mimi,” she called softly, heading for her room.

“
Bon soir!
”

Even though it was after 4 A.M., Callie had too much adrenaline pumping through her veins to even consider sleeping.

She spread the copies of Lexi’s day planner pages out across her desk. Then she pulled printouts of the Insider articles from a drawer and studied them one by one.

The first, “Behind the Ivy-Covered Walls,” had been submitted to FlyBy for publication (pending Grace’s approval) at 6:49 P.M. on February 3. Eagerly Callie scanned the photocopy of Lexi’s planner denoting details of her day on February 3.

Feb 3

8am-9:30am–FM morning meeting

11am-1pm–Government 1061

1pm–Lunch with G.B
.

3pm-4pm–Economics 1011b Section

5pm-6pm–Pudding Board meeting

6pm–Dinner with the Roomies @ Dalí

9pm–Pudding punch drinks with A.C., P.V. and A.G. @ Grafton

Callie reread the entry three times, struggling to stifle the rush of emotion that accompanied the 1 P.M. appointment. “Focus,” she muttered aloud. How could Lexi have posted the article and simultaneously dined at Dalí? Maybe it had been a quick dinner, though the service at the tapas place had seemed deliberately slow the one time Callie had eaten there with Clint—plus, the restaurant wasn’t exactly close to campus.

Callie flipped to the next Insider article, “Behind the Ivy-Covered Walls, Part II,” submitted at 11:13 A.M. on February 19. Then she checked it against the day planner.

Feb 19

10am-11am: Yoga @ Karma Studios

12pm: Final FM mock-up meeting

2pm: Lunch with C.W
.

6pm: Dinner with A.G
.

8 pm: Black Tie Gala Fundraiser @ The Kennedy School

*Don’t forget to*

-Confirm the limo for Pudding brunch tomorrow AM

-Confirm the venue for Uncle Joe’s visit (Faculty Club?)

Yoga? thought Callie, trying, and failing, to picture Lexi relaxing and letting all the light fall into her spine—or whatever those yoga instructors preached. However, this entry did more than just confirm Callie’s long-standing suspicion (that yoga was of the devil)—it placed Lexi, in all likelihood, at the
Crimson
around the
time the second Insider article was published. Granted, she would have needed to draft the installment in advance to post it so soon after yoga (not to mention appearing in public in workout clothes, which, according to Lexi’s columns, was a grave taboo). But still, this was promising. Lexi had clearly been at the
Crimson
for hours, even if she did eventually leave to have lunch with Callie’s then-boyfriend at the time, Clint.

Callie frowned, trying to stop wondering what they had talked about and continue examining the evidence. “Okay, ‘Behind the Ivy-Covered Walls, Part III,’” she mumbled aloud. “March eighth, at four oh two…What were you up to then, Ms. Thorndike?”

Mar 8

10am-11:30am: Art History 1214

12pm: Lunch with A.C
.

*Remember to print your Gov Paper

2pm-4pm: Government 1061 Section

4pm: *GOVERNMENT PAPER DUE*

5pm-6pm: Study Group @ Lamont Library

7pm: Sign off on FM mock-ups @ the Crimson

8pm
-C.W. @ Adam’s House (!!!)

Ah yes, 8 P.M. on the eighth of March: the night Clint had hooked up with Lexi (unless you counted their kiss at Gatsby a few days earlier after Callie had left the party with Vanessa). Not that Callie needed any further proof of Clint’s douchebaggery—after
all, he’d confessed to everything over spring break shortly after Gregory had given him a black eye—but it was strangely satisfying to see his lies documented in black and white. It made her miss having a boyfriend that much less.

Callie yawned, reading the entry again, but nothing in particular stood out. Lunch with Alessandra at noon seemed perfectly normal, given how hard Lexi had been wooing her to join the Pudding. And again, so long as she had already written and saved a draft of the third installment, Lexi could have arguably made it to the
Crimson
by 4:02 P.M. to submit it.

Callie’s eyes lingered on the 8 P.M. entry, the double underline stinging ever so slightly. Earlier that day Clint had lied to her face, insisting that he had to miss dinner to make a meeting at the Pudding that evening. By “meeting” he had clearly meant “sex date” and by “Pudding,” “my bedroom.” Oh, well, thought Callie. No use crying over—

She bolted up in her chair. Clint hadn’t just lied to her face that day—he had lied to her face in the
Crimson
. He’d brought her coffee and then excused himself in order to make his
four o’clock
squash practice!

“Oh my god,” said Callie as the memories continued to return. That was also when she had discovered, shortly before Clint had arrived, that Lexi and Grace used to be roommates during their freshman year. And that sometime before the end of the semester, most likely after Grace had made the
Crimson
and Lexi had been cut, Lexi had mysteriously transferred out of their room. Midway through her search that day, Callie had had to log back
into the
Crimson
’s website. Callie closed her eyes, recalling the conversation she’d had with Matt who, as usual, had been sitting next to her.

“
Huh…that’s strange,” she had muttered
.

“
What?” Matt had asked
.

“
Oh, nothing,” she’d replied. “It just says that it logged me out of our internal server because I was logged in at another location
.”

Matt had shrugged it off, blaming a buggy system or a session timeout. But he’d been wrong. Because, as Callie realized, the Insider had been there in that room on that very day, shortly before 4 P.M. readying to post the latest article. Using Callie’s username and password, the Insider had logged into Callie’s account from somewhere else in the room—at computer station 17, 20, 22 or 25, to be specific.

Callie held her breath, sensing she was on the verge of a major discovery. But no moment of clarity came. There had been plenty of students, COMPers and staff alike, in the first floor offices working that day, but no one stood out in particular as having acted suspiciously. And—there was no way around it—Callie felt fairly certain that Lexi had not been anywhere in the vicinity, since Callie had checked several times before stalking her former COMP directors on the internet.

“
Fuuughhidditybug
.” Callie groaned, throwing her head down on her desk. She kept her forehead pressed against the cool wood for a minute or two before straightening. Maybe the final day planner entry, when compared to the final insider installment,
“Behind the Ivy-Covered Walls Part IV,” published at 6:32 A.M. on April 4, would have some answers.

Apr 4

11am-1pm–Social Studies 22b

1pm–Lunch with C.W.

5pm–C.W. Squash Match @ Malkin Athletics

***EMERGENCY MEETING AT THE PUDDING***

10am

“Dammit!” cried Callie. “Shit, shit,
shit!
”

A faint cough sounded from Vanessa’s room next door.

“Crap,” Callie muttered, succumbing to another yawn. Exhaustion hit her like a sack of bricks. Head pounding, she slowly stacked all the papers on her desk and then returned them to the bottom drawer.

Standing, she stretched. Spotting the log-in records, USB thumb drive, and photograph where she had tossed them on her bed, Callie grabbed them. She was about to throw the photograph into the drawer along with the other two items when she paused, reexamining the face of the girl in the picture. In this light it looked oddly familiar.

“Or you’re just delirious,” Callie muttered. Nonetheless, before she crawled, fully clothed, underneath her covers, she tacked the photo onto the right-hand side of the bulletin board, where it would remain, all but forgotten, long after sleep obliterated her consciousness.

NINE

And the Plot Thickens

The Harvard Crimson

NEWS
OPINION
FM
MAGAZINE SPORTS ARTS MEDIA

Have You Seen THE CHAIR?

Managing Editor’s essentials still missing, among other things, in the wake of Lampoon break-in

By
ALESSANDRA CONSTANTINE
, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER

Published: Thursday, April 21

Sometime between late last Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning, the
Crimson
suffered a massive break-in. In the downstairs offices the culprits loosened every screw. In the upstairs offices they superglued every chair and trash can, and various other typically mobile itmes to the floor. Needless to say, all work at the paper came to a grinding halt on Wednesday as editors stopped working in order to repair the damage.