They Wish They Were Us(77)

“But the whole thing was handled so swiftly, thank heavens for the Arnolds, and so we were spared,” he says. “But now, Miss Newman, you are threatening to dismantle everything we have built.”

My head spins as I try to untangle his words and find their true meaning.

“I know you’ve been having some issues with your friends. Maybe you are feeling lost and unwelcome here at Gold Coast Prep. You may have convinced yourself that you found out something dark and dirty swirling beneath the surface of what you thought you knew about Miss Arnold. Your teacher.” Weingarten rubs his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “But let me be very clear, Miss Newman. You will not ruin this school’s reputation. After everything we have done for you.”

“But—” I sputter.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, holding up one hand. “I asked you here so we could have a little chat about your final weeks at Gold Coast Prep. About your future.” Weingarten leans forward and picks up a hefty manila folder filled with little blue exam books I filled out only hours before. “Your exam.” He drops it back on the desk with a thud.

I have to force myself from leaping up to snatch it from his wrinkled hands.

“Did you grade it?” I ask, my voice small.

Weingarten laughs, the sound coming from deep within his belly. “Of course not. That’s for the university to do.” He gestures to the exam books in front of him. “But I would hate for this all to be a lie.”

His eyebrows shoot so far up on his forehead and his blue eyes are icy, no longer gentle. He knows. He’s always known.

“They don’t look kindly on cheating in the Ivy League.”

“I didn’t,” I breathe. “I studied. I had no help. I did that on my own.”

Weingarten holds up a hand. “Maybe this time,” he says. “But not all the others.” He clasps his hands behind his neck and puffs out his stomach. “You think we don’t know what goes on? That we don’t know who’s a liar, who’s a cheat?”

My stomach drops and my mouth grows dry.

“It would be very easy to convince Brown that you had some extra help on this exam, that you’ve cheated on every exam. Your life would be ruined. All that time and money your parents have spent would be wasted.”

I swallow hard and try to force the tears to stay put.

“You have been so lucky, Jill Newman.” Weingarten stands and walks to his window. From my perch, I can see his gaze land on the lower schoolers, kindergartners maybe, climbing on the pristine jungle gym in their plaid Gold Coast uniforms. They’re still fearless.

“But not anymore. You have been ungrateful. Bringing Mr. Beaumont into all of this. Tsk tsk.”

“How did you—” I start to ask.

Weingarten laughs. “You think I don’t know every police officer in this town? That I don’t have people all around Gold Coast just dying to share information with me, to trade secrets to get their children into Prep? And that lawyer Miss Calloway hired, Mr. Sorenson? Gold Coast Prep Class of 1991, of course. A star pupil. He gave me a heads-up about Logan that very day.”

My cheeks burn and I squeeze my knees together to keep my legs from shaking.

“Miss Newman, I want to be very clear,” he says. “You are ruining our reputation. I will not have any more negative attention brought to this school. The past is in the past and you are in danger of blowing up our entire future for a little fishing expedition.”

Weingarten’s face is flushed and the corners of his mouth are wet with saliva. He sits back down and pulls another manila envelope from the corner of his desk. It’s thinner. New. “Let’s see. Jared Newman. Looks like he pulled his biology grade up from barely passing to a ninety-two with his midterm. Well done, Mr. Newman!” His eyes linger on mine, playful and menacing. “Wonder how that happened.”

His message is clear. If I keep going, if I keep shitting all over Gold Coast Prep, bringing unwanted onlookers to our campus, he will ruin my chances of going to Brown. He will expose me. He will expose Jared. And he will let all the others get away with what we do just to prove a point. If I had doubts about continuing to help Rachel and Graham before, they’re all but certain now. I just can’t risk it.

“Mr. Beaumont had no part in Shaila’s death. Graham Calloway is a murderer. Those are the facts. I need you to drop your little investigation. We can’t have any more black marks upon this school. Do you understand what I’m saying, Miss Newman?”

“Yes.” My voice is clear and urgent and I do my best to look him dead in the eyes.

“Good girl.” He smiles and drops Jared’s folder onto his desk, sending my little blue books flying. “Well, then. Glad we had this little chat. I’ll send your exam to Brown this afternoon.” He waves his hand and spins in his swivel chair so his tweed-covered back is to me.

I stand with shaking legs and turn toward the door.

“Oh, and Jill?” Weingarten looks over his shoulder at me. “Send my regards to Miss Calloway. Always such a promising young woman. Such a shame. Such a shame.”



* * *



—

Mom swings the door open before I even make it up the driveway. Dad’s head peeks out behind the frame. “Is that her?” he asks.

My stomach drops and I can’t bear to face them. All I want to do is hide.