Dearest Clementine (31 page)

Holy. Shit.

Jenna gasps as hands start flying up. Marceaux sits straighter, tilting her head at her colleague. Wheeler calls on a student in front of me.

“Professor, are you saying this author plagiarized?”

“I am.” He looks so smug up there that I could leap over these seats and strangle him.

There are instances in life when the powers that be push the pause button, and you can see your future before you like an endless road stretching into the horizon. I see this now, realizing that how I react to this situation has a myriad of life-alternating implications, like dominos set up to clatter against one another as they reach the ground in quick succession. Biting back the fury that has taken residence in my body, I struggle to swallow.

He smirks at me. “I know Miss Fitzgerald personally, and I know that she outright stole portions of her manuscript—”

“What the
fuck
are you talking about?” I cut him off, fisting my hands in my lap. Professor Marceaux’s head jerks toward me. “I’ve sat here, listening to you insult
my
novel, the one I wrote when I was a freshman, the one you called brilliant when you helped me edit it.”

The class erupts in murmurs, and Marceaux’s eyes widen. I know there will be hell to pay for what I’m doing, but I can’t stand another minute of this man’s insane accusations.

“You know that I have several journals’ worth of evidence that prove this is my work, and if my peers are curious, I’ll also add that you were the only person who saw the manuscript prior to publication. So unless you’re saying that I stole this story from you, you should shut the hell up.”

I get up and balance myself against the seat in front of me. Forty pairs of eyes are on me, so I’m hoping I don’t faint. Looking up at him and seeing his steely defiance pisses me off more.

“You have some nerve, Jason. You’ll be hearing from my attorney.” Shit. That means I need to get one.

On my way out, I trip over the same geeky guy. When I get home, I head straight for the bathroom. And throw up. Again and again.

-
24 -

Someone presses a wet washcloth into my hand. “You okay?”

I can’t help the hysterical laughter that comes from my mouth. I’ve officially gone off the deep end.

“She’s cracked,” Jenna says to Harper as I stare at their feet, which are clad in neon socks. Why do they have matching socks?

My left cheek is pressed to the cold tile in our bathroom. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at my roommates who stare back. This must be what it feels like to be an animal in the zoo, always being observed and always observing. Any minute, someone is going to start petting me.

Harper crouches down and presses her palm against my forehead. “I don’t think she has a fever,” she says to Jenna like I’m not here.

I close my eyes. “Everyone knows. It’s out there, and I can’t make it go back in the can. God damn Wheeler.”

“Clem, it’ll be okay.” Harper crouches down, grabbing my hand to pull me up into a sitting position. I groan, my whole body aching from lying on the floor for the past hour. “I know anonymity is important to you, but there are bigger problems in this world than revealing a writer’s identity, like famines, genocide—”

“Human trafficking and sexual cults!” Jenna adds. Harper and I turn to look at Jenna who shrugs. “What? Those are serious problems.”

“Okay, point taken.” My throat is hoarse from vomiting. After wrapping my neck with my hand to soothe the pain, I try to stand, and my roommates steady me.

“I’m glad you stood up for yourself today,” Harper says as she hugs me, but just as quickly, she wrinkles her nose and pushes me away. “You stink. Take a shower.”

“He accused me of plagiarism. I couldn’t stand there and take it.” Noticing a chunk of an undeterminable nature in my hair, I pluck it out.

There are bigger things you should be worried about. What if he tries to hurt you?
My hand trembles as I cover my eyes.

“You should have heard her, Harp.” Jenna nudges me. “She totally told off that asswipe. It was awesome.”

Pressing my hand to my stomach, I say, “We’ll see how awesome it is when I have to explain this to the dean. I should call him before Wheeler beats me to it.”

Relieved to find that Dean Marshall isn’t in today, I leave a message before I crawl into a hot shower. Letting the steady stream beat into my back, I stand there and try to keep it together.

Every molecule in me wants to call Gavin. I miss my friend, and there’s no one I want to confide in more. Remembering how he nearly beat up Wheeler last week makes the ache in my chest grow.

But Wheeler’s words echo in my head, that my character Isabella is pathetic. Really, that
I’m
pathetic. So not only did I blow it with Daren by shutting him down, but I ran off and had a one-night stand after we broke up. Ironic that I wasn’t opposed to having sex with Daren; I only wanted to make sure I was ready so that he’d respect me afterward, so that I’d respect myself. I wanted to know that he loved me. Instead, I hooked up with John or Sean or whatever the fuck his name was for ten minutes of awkward and somewhat painful sex.

The thought that I’d go crawling to Gavin broken and needy disgusts me. I won’t go to him to pick up the pieces of my life. I’ll handle this myself. Besides, now that people know I wrote that book, he might not be interested anymore. I wouldn’t blame him.

Gavin is going to read about my one-night stand for fuck’s sake!
Although I’ve told him what happened, it’s another thing entirely for him to read a first-hand account.

Mortification spreads in me as I think about what else that book reveals about me. I poured all of my insecurities between those pages. Every shortcoming and fear. Every humiliating moment as I fell apart over Daren. Every tear shed as my life fell apart.

Sniffling, I brace myself for the fallout, which I’m sure includes some pissed-off rich people.

I should give Daren a heads-up.

While he’s not named in my novel, it won’t take a genius to figure out who I’m talking about. I’m sure his parents will be thrilled with my depiction.

I change into some yoga pants and t-shirt, stopping to wipe the steamed mirror with my elbow. “Man up, Clementine,” I tell my reflection.

When I step out into the living room, I stop short. Jax jumps off the couch and scoops me into a bear hug. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

“Not if I can get to him first.” Daren stands up and walks over.

I shoot an exasperated look at my roommates. Jenna loops her arm through Harper’s. “We didn’t think you should deal with this by yourself, so we called your brother.”

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“Clem, how is it that you wrote a book and I had no idea?” Jax stares down at me with a hurt expression. How the hell is he so much taller than I am? I’m barely five five while he’s at least six feet tall. “Answer me.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, and anyway, what did you think creative writing majors do?”

Ignoring my question, he says, “How am I just finding out that you’re a bestselling author? And why are you using a pen name?”

Jax lets go of me and starts motioning with his hands. Why does he care that I wrote a stupid book? He’s always so wrapped up in soccer and random girls.

My eyes lock with Harper’s, and she gives me a sympathetic smile as she drags Jenna back to her room.

“Jax, calm down.” Daren places a hand on his shoulder.

I blow out a slow breath. “Daren, you might not be quite as understanding when you read my novel.”

He angles his head toward me, clearly not getting my point.

“Okay, both of you, sit. Now.”

My brother sighs and stomps over to the couch. Daren joins him. If I weren’t in some deep shit right now, I’d laugh that I ordered these huge guys to sit like little boys, and they totally followed my command.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of them, I brace myself for what I need to say.

“Aside from hating being in the tabloids, unlike some people,” I say, giving my brother a pointed look, “the reason I used a pen name is because the book is autobiographical. It’s about what happened my senior year.” I look at Daren. “With us.” His eyes begin to widen with understanding. “Before you freak out, you should know that it’s fictional—the names and places are different, but it’s about a girl named Isabelle who falls in love with the star quarterback, Evan, who cheats on her.”

He starts to say something, but I hold my hands up. “It’s about how she ran off and slept with some other guy because she thought it would lessen the pain somehow.”

Daren winces as my brother groans.

“Shit, Clem. Don’t tell me this,” Jax grunts.

“Everyone else is about to know, so you’d might as well hear it from me.” I grip the hem of my t-shirt and twist it, which will ruin the fabric because nothing that’s stretched out that far ever goes back to normal. “It talks about her mother who told her she should have had sex with him or he’d lose interest but otherwise didn’t give a shit. Actually, she cared, but not in the way I thought.”

“What does that mean?” Daren sits forward and touches my knee gently so that I’ll look at him.

I clench my eyes shut as I think about it. “She said I could learn a few things from Veronica and that I should crawl on my hands and knees and beg you to take me back because I’d probably never do any better. Then she left for a meeting like she couldn’t be bothered with my life. And I lost my state meet later that day.”

Swallowing so I don’t throw up, I wrap my arms around my waist.

“Jesus.” Daren stands up and pulls me into a hug, crushing me into his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know your mother is a bitch, but I never realized she’d hurt you like this. No wonder you were reluctant to—”

“Dude, don’t fucking say it,” Jax says, his hands forming tight fists. “Don’t fucking talk about banging my sister.”

“Calm down, asshole. I would never talk about Emmie that way.”

“So I have a few problems,” I say, scooting out of Daren’s hold and making him sit again. “Obviously, our parents are going to freak out, but I’m also being accused of plagiarism.”

My brother makes me explain exactly what happened in class. After I spill the details, I get to my most pressing concerns. “I have two serious legal issues: the public accusations along with what I suspect will be an academic investigation. I could get expelled if Wheeler somehow convinces the school that I’ve stolen these ideas from him.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, babe.” Daren whips out his phone and dials a number. “Prescott, this is Daren Sloan. I need to talk to that libel attorney in your office. No, this is not about me.” He covers the phone. “Wheeler is lucky I don’t rip his dick off.”

“That’s… graphic.” I laugh weakly as the tension starts to dissipate. 

When Jax and Daren leave two hours later, even though I’m humbled that I had to explain this ugly ordeal, the fact that neither of them asked me if Wheeler’s accusation has any merit comforts me. They simply assumed I was telling the truth. I smile, knowing that those two are on my side. Maybe I’ve done something right after all.

* * *

When I wake up the next morning, someone is shouting. Rolling over in bed and placing a pillow firmly over my ear does nothing to shut out the noise. Someone yells my name.

I wander out of my bedroom to find Dani pressed up against the front door.

“Dani? What’s wrong?” I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and yawn.

“There are
people
here to see you.” Her bed-head makes her look like she’s twelve. Why does she look so weirded out?

Jenna comes jogging out of her bedroom. “You can’t leave, Clem. The press is out there.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Come look out my window.”

I scurry into her room and peek out through the blinds to see a couple of news trucks. The sight makes my heart race. “Why are they here?”

“You and Wheeler, I think. Ryan says the whole campus is talking about it.”

A loud knock on the door jars me from my out-of-body experience.

“Clementine. It’s me.” The sound of Gavin’s voice makes my knees weaken. The thought of him knowing what’s in my book churns my stomach.

Jenna takes one look at me and grabs my arm. “You haven’t told him what’s going on, have you?” she asks in a strained whisper so he won’t hear through the door.

I shake my head and remind her of the break.

She smacks me on the side of my head, and her face twists into a scowl when I yelp. “I am not going to curse at you because my momma would say that you never want to hit someone when they’re down, but for fuck’s sake, Clem, you need to talk to that guy before he gets tired of your shit.”

So much for not cursing at me. “Jenna, you think I should have called him yesterday so he could see how
pathetic
I am?”