LILY
“I’ve been expelled. Kicked out of school before it even started.”
“What?” I scream, staring at Claire uncomprehendingly.
Expelled? Oh god. I figured she might deal with some backlash from yesterday night, hence my preemptively making that deal with Cross, but expelled? That was a hell of a lot worse. Expulsion meant that the faculty was involved now, not just the students.
I snatch her phone and scan the email; she doesn’t even protest, too shocked to react.
Notice of Enrollment Termination
Dear Ms. Fairmont,
In light of recent events, it is with our deepest regrets that we must notify you of the termination of your enrollment at Rothford University, California, as well as the termination of your scholarship, effective immediately.
The termination is due to a breach of section 7, paragraph 12 in the Code of Conduct signed by yourself on the 21st of July.
Please surrender your keys and student pass by 6:00 pm today.
Regards,
Marissa Collins
Executive Assistant
Rothford University Board of Directors
“Oh god.” I get flashback to my own email informing me I’d lost my scholarship last year, except this one is a hell of a lot worse. “Section seven, paragraph twelve, what is that, even?Fuck. Let me check.”
I grab my own phone and navigate the university app until I find the Code of Conduct. I never bothered to read it properly, scanning it quickly before I signed when I got enrolled.
“The section is ‘Tarnishing the reputation of the school.’” I grimace. It’s about the cop, then. “Shit, Claire. God, let me get to twelve…student privacy on private premises.” Oh, no.
“I’m so sorry. Oh, Claire.”
She tries to smile, tears filling her eyes.
“I suppose you tried to warn me.”
I did, but even I wouldn’t have imagined this.
“I’ll call Cross. Ask if he can help.”
Technically, I made him agree to not encumber Claire, but with a bit of luck, he’ll agree to actively help her. And if I have to bargain another hour of my time, well, that’s just a bonus.
She snorts. “Right. The same guy who told them in the first place.”
“I sincerely doubt that, Claire,” I reply, strangely defensive. “I mean, you talked to the cops. In all likelihood, they made a report. What happened to Charlotte at the Shark House had minor media attention.”
I read the article when I mindlessly scrolled this morning, to stop myself from replaying Cross’s many touches in my head.
“Don’t you think it’s about the video I took?”
“No,” I assert. “For that, Cross would have made you pay directly. Orme. Tattling to his daddy isn’t his style.”
I don’t know why I’m so certain. It’s not like I know Cross all that well. But there’s zero doubt in my mind.
“But the cops—shit. I should have seen this. Stopped you from saying anything at all.”