The Rivals (5 page)

Parker said he’d served
loyally
—he emphasized that word several times, and it grated on me exponentially with each successive mention—since his sophomore year and had done so at great risk to himself and his family. His dad had survived a tax-evasion scandal, narrowly winning reelection the year Parker started here. His dad’s a Themis alum too, and Parker promised Dad he’d do nothing to bring further shame on the well-heeled political family. But, really, his dad had done plenty of that himself. Something about Parker—his defensiveness—made me think the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“If anyone besides students found out about the Mockingbirds, if this ever got out somehow, this could seriously hurt my dad,” Parker said that night, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, a worried look on his face, as if we were discussing state secrets. “It would be one more thing for him to have to deal with. To him this would be totally subversive. He believes in working
inside
the system, not against it.”

I wasn’t all that impressed. Weren’t we all doing this at personal risk? I risked everything by coming to the Mockingbirds in the first place.

Anjali Durand made a much simpler case for herself. She handed us a list of all the trials and investigations she’d played a role in and said she hoped we’d give her fair consideration. I knew Anjali through the Mockingbirds and because she lived two floors below me. She was always tossing off some pithy observation about classes and teachers, something that made me think or laugh or smirk. Plus she was involved in the Chess Club, which was so coolly ironic because she’s this tall, willowy European beauty with freckles like an American. Not that tall, willowy European beauties with freckles like Americans can’t play chess, but she defied the stereotype of nerdy chess boys,
and
she beat them most of the time in late-night competitions in the common room. After she handed us her list, she flexed her right biceps, winked, and said, “And I’ve been lifting weights, so I can totally replace Ilana as the muscle.”

That won me over for two reasons. First, Anjali didn’t have a muscle to speak of. Second, Ilana was something of a toughie. You didn’t mess with Ilana. She was a powerful protector. I knew Anjali could fill that role on chutzpah alone. Ilana and I sided with Anjali. Amy and Martin went with Parker. Two against two. A classic stalemate.

Amy said, “You have the deciding vote, Alex. You’re the leader. You can override all of us.”

“They both have good records,” Martin pointed out. “Really, either one would be fine. Either one would be great.”

But overriding the other remaining board member—Martin—and the outgoing leader—Amy—wasn’t a good way to start my new role. So I backed down. “Let’s go with Parker,” I said, conceding.

Now here he is, eager and ready to serve at
great personal risk.

But if I’m going to lead, I have to put any reservations I once had behind me. So I say, “I’m glad you’re our newest board member, Parker. Actually, we’re both kind of the new board members.”

He smiles and nods. “True! First term for both of us!” Then he pulls out a small reporter’s notebook from the back pocket of his shorts. “Though I
did
serve on the council last year.”

“True,” I reply.

“And I was a runner the year before,” he adds as he flips open the notebook and uncaps a pen.

“That you were.”

“So it’s not really my first term.”

The message is clear. I’m the newbie; he’s the veteran. And I feel knocked down, once again, like with Natalie. Neither one thinks I’m fit to lead. Neither one thinks I
deserve
to lead. Do I have to defend myself yet again and explain to everyone that
date rape, well, IT SUCKS, PEOPLE!

Comparisons to Amy flood my mind again—her case was so black-and-white. No one would have questioned whether or not she deserved the post. But with date rape, everyone sees it in some shade of gray. Did the fact that I flirted with him early in the night mean I gave consent? Did being drunk make me responsible for what he did later, while I was passed out? I thought these shades of gray would
only
matter in our courtroom during the trial. But they reappear, in unexpected ways, every day, every hour.

Like now, as I trip through a fresh set of questions: what leadership reserves do I have beyond the big fat
R
that’s been branded onto my chest? What have I done that would give me any skills in this job? I am the very definition of introvert. Seriously. Look it up and you’ll see my picture. Before all this I was just a girl who loved her friends, who liked school, and who’d been having a mad, raging affair with the piano for her whole life. That’s who I was—pianist, friend, and good student. Where’s the leadership training in that? I’m not captain of any team or head of any club. My God, I barely even read the news. I only notice politics when there are scandals, like with Parker’s dad. Someone like Martin would be a much better leader, and I’m not saying that because he’s my boyfriend. I don’t think he’s better than me or smarter than me. With a judge for a father and a prosecutor for a mother, law and order runs in his blood. My body ticks in time to chords and octaves.

So Parker’s not-so-subtle dig strikes a nerve. Especially because I don’t have a response, a clever retort. I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to be sticking up for myself here, so I choose the path of least resistance—I ignore the thinly veiled barbs from the senator’s son, pointing instead to his notebook. “Yep. You’ve even got a notebook.”

He laughs lightly. “I’m pretty much a fervent note taker. My parents have given me notebooks and pens every Christmas as stocking stuffers. I know, I know. It’s the height of the Christmas spirit.”

“Mine give me Chap Stick,” Martin offers.

“Socks,” I add. “The Patricks are all about socks. Usually argyle socks.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to see your argyle socks,” Martin says to me. His teasing voice lightens my mood.

“Maybe I’ll show them to you.”

“Now, now, guys,” Parker jumps in. “I know I’m going to get kicked out of my room plenty of times this year, but let’s not get started in the Knothole too.”

We all laugh—I’m relieved that at least Parker has a sense of humor—and then I decide it’s time to get down to business. I tell them about Delaney and what she just told me.

“That’s not much to go on,” Martin says when I’m done. “We don’t even know
who
we’re supposed to be investigating. It’s pretty weak evidence.”

I know he’s not dissing me like Parker did, but his matter-of-fact appraisal of my first tip is yet another reminder that I don’t have a clue how to lead.

But I
can
be quick on my feet. I’m a Themis student, after all. I’m a fast learner.

“Right, but that’s because she walked away,” I point out.

“Then why are we even meeting?” Martin asks.

“Because isn’t that what we’re supposed to do when someone brings us a tip? It says so in the notebook,” I point out.

“Sure, but I’m not really clear on what the tip is, or what we’re supposed to be discussing.”

Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to put together a whole game plan before coming to the board? A presentation with slides and an overhead projector?

“The tip is,” I say in a louder, firmer voice, “there’s some sort of cheating ring going on here, and they’re using Anderin.”

“But
who’s
the victim?” Martin says crisply. “That’s all I’m asking.”

I open my mouth to speak, but I have nothing to say. The room fills with my own awkward silence as I fumble for an answer, because who
is
the victim here? Who’s the Amy? Or even the Alex? I’m not so sure I’d say Delaney is the victim. The crime’s not against her.

“Because that’s our job. To defend people who need help,” Martin adds, this time gently, this time his tone a reminder of why he joined the Mockingbirds in the first place when he was a sophomore—to help.

“But then is a crime only a crime if there is a victim?” Parker asks, and in this second I am grateful that our board is a threesome and not just Martin against me. I’m glad someone else is here to vet the tips. “There are obvious crimes, like bullying, where there’s one person or a group of people hurting someone else. Or even hate speech. Same deal. Victims and attackers. Even theft has a perpetrator and a victim. Assault, rape, obviously do as well. And what they all have in common is—”

But Parker doesn’t finish because Martin jumps in. “And
those
are the type of cases we’ve tried so far. The seniors who bullied the sophomores, Alex’s case, Amy’s case.”

“But those aren’t the only type of crimes,” Parker continues, tapping his pen against his notebook. “Those are what we think of as
blue-collar crimes
. Crimes that involve violence. But there are other crimes too, crimes without violence, more
white-collar crimes
.”

I quickly shift my eyes to Martin, wondering if he’s thinking what I’m thinking—that Senator Hume’s name is about to be invoked. Because isn’t tax evasion the classic white-collar crime?

And just as the girl predicted, Parker says: “That’s what my father was accused of. Cheating on his taxes. He didn’t do it, of course. But the point is, those types of crimes—the kinds that involve deceit—they’re crimes too. They might not be violent crimes. They’re not one-against-one crimes. They’re more about a moral code and how we treat one another.”

Thank God for Senator Hume. Thank God for that tax scandal. Because for whatever reason, my weak tip is no longer the focal point of this Knothole session. I feel like I have front-row seats to a boxing match, but a gentleman’s kind, as the boys keep up the jabs in their debate on morals, decency, and the good of society.

“Right, but a lot of times with so-called
white-collar crimes
, there are still victims,” Martin says. “Think of all the people Bernie Madoff screwed over. Who lost their life savings. They were the victims.”

I see a chance to jump in. “Shouldn’t we then be thinking about who would be getting screwed over by cheating, then? By that same Bernie Madoff logic,” I add.

“That’s my point,” Parker says, nodding in agreement. “Because cheating is a crime against a group of people. It has the potential to hurt students who don’t cheat, who try to do the right thing. What if their grades are pulled down? What if they don’t get into college because of those who cheated?
Everyone
here at this school has the potential to be affected by this. Not just Delaney. And that’s where the whole idea of a greater moral code comes in. That’s the whole point—these crimes can hurt everyone.”

Martin furrows his brow. He’s not convinced. “But is that what the Mockingbirds are supposed to uphold? A greater moral code?”

“Why not?” Parker tosses back. “Why are we just a police force for one particular type of crime? We all took the pledge tonight, but it ends there, as far as the administration is concerned. Because even with something like cheating, Merritt would still brush it aside because she wants a perfect record. She wants to say,
We have zero incidences of cheating here at Themis Academy.
And isn’t that why we exist, then? Because the administration doesn’t do a thing?”

Then Martin looks to me, their tête-à-tête over for now. “It’s up to you. You’re the leader. Do you think we should pursue this?”

I’m momentarily taken aback, because part of me thinks it’s odd that he went from saying the tip was weak to asking me if we should move forward. But I also know he’s not just changing his tune because of Parker’s ability to argue a point. Martin respects the pecking order. At the end of the day, he knows the leader has the final word.

I pause for a moment before I answer, wanting to make sure my answer is the right one. But the truth is, I
know
the answer in my heart. Delaney may not be the victim. But she sought me out, she tracked me down, and she asked us to do something about the problem. That’s why the Mockingbirds started. That’s why the group was founded. It’s not up to us to judge whether the crime is big or small. The simple act of someone needing us makes this cheating tip our jurisdiction.

It is one of our rules.

“Our first rule is we must give help to students who come to us. She came to us. She asked for help. I think at the very least we should look into her tip,” I say.

Martin nods. “Let’s get into it, then.”

“Good,” Parker says, and if he had on a long-sleeve shirt he’d be rolling up his sleeves right now, digging in. “I think the next step should be to address what Delaney’s motivation could be in tipping you off.”

“Well, obviously it’s because of what happened to her at Matthew Winters. She doesn’t want to take the chance of being framed again.”

“But why
would
she be framed?” Parker asks curiously. “Why did she feel the need to tip you off? If she’s tipping you off, she probably thinks there’s a reason she could be framed again. So, why would she think she’d be accused again?”

Did the board ask these questions about me last year? Did they ask what my motivation was in telling them what happened to me? Did they dissect not just my case but whether I might have any ulterior motives too? I feel a brief flicker of anger at the Mockingbirds, now that I am seeing things from the other side. But then, I had the same thoughts about Delaney. I guess this is what the good of the whole is all about. Looking into every angle.

“The thing we need most is info. So, what do we know about Delaney?” Martin asks.

“She has purple hair. She’s from Detroit. She’s a junior. She’s in a band at home,” I say, rattling off everything I learned earlier. But none of that points to why she’d be concerned about a repeat accusation. So I quickly add, before anyone else can suggest it, “Who’s she dating? Who’s she rooming with? Who’s she friends with? Who would she want to protect? Who would she want to see punished?”

Martin grins at my litany of questions, rhetorical though they may be, and I know I’m hitting on something, heading in the right direction.

Parker chimes in. “She’s been on and off with Theo McBride since she started here,” he says, and I know that name better than I knew Delaney’s. He’s an incredible dancer, the only other student I know here who has Juilliard in his crosshairs. He’s a senior, and he’s been a regular fixture in dance competitions all over the country, handily winning most, and he’s been scouted by the Alvin Ailey and Martha Graham dance companies. He’s worthy—I’ve seen him perform here at Themis, and his moves take your breath away; he dances like air, like water, like fire.