The Other Girl

Chapter XVII

"—and notice in line eight that the speaker suddenly uses a slang term," Professor Glenn said as the door to the classroom opened to welcome the Executive Vice Chancellor.

"Pardon the interruption," the stern-faced woman said with pursed lips. "Stacey Tussaud, the Chancellor would like a word with you."

The hall fell into a hushed silence as Stacey stood with a perturbed smile, the clicking of her heels following her as she walked down the steps. What was happening? Had she been found out? So quickly?

The bell rang soon enough, prompting me to rush to the main office. Quinn met me along the way, a frown hanging on her face.

"I heard Stacey was called out?" she asked between hurried steps. I nodded affirmatively, worried myself.

"Do they know?" I asked, grimacing at my trembling words.

"I've heard as much," Quinn replied. So they were pinning it on Stacey. So—

"I'm going to confess," I blurted, setting the plan in stone by speaking the words out loud. Quinn gave me a flabbergasted look, eyes wide.

"What? Stella, you know they might expel you, right?" she asked, stopping me before we rounded the corner of the building. "This is bigger than the games we played in middle and high school—you might get kicked out of the institution altogether. Separated from us."

"But I can't have Stacey take all the blame," I said, gut twisting at her words. Quinn—realize that I don't want to do this anymore than you would, but I need to do it. For Stacey. For myself.

"Anyone else and this would be a suicide mission," Quinn said, sighing and moving out of the way. A sad but defeated look hung on her face, and I couldn't bear to look at her again in fear that I'd turn tail and run.

---

The office was a quiet hum of activity, of keyboard clicks and hushed conversation. I let the door swing shut behind me, the click breaking the fog of concentration inside the room.

"May I help you?" the Secretary asked, rising from her seat and slipping her glasses up. Her eyes widened in recognition and her red lips broke out into a gracious smile. "Miss Reyes! How can I help you today?"

"Hello, I was looking for my friend, Stacey Tussaud," I explained, putting on a smile as well. "She was called in this morning to the Chancellor's, I believe."

"Oh, yes, they're currently speaking in his office," lady informed me, walking out of the booth. "I'll take you to his office to see whether you'd be able to interrupt."

"That would be wonderful, thank you," I told her, following her down the hall. At the end of the walkway lay the double doors that led into the Chancellor's office, a white type on navy plate posted on the door that indicated that such was so.

"Just a minute," the Secretary said, opening a door and poking her head in. A few words were exchanged, and she opened the door wide for me. "Right on in, Miss Reyes."

I thanked her and entered the room, dark oak and maple furniture with an ornate rug that led to the Chancellor's desk in the right corner.

"Stella," the Chancellor greeted, smiling as he rose from his seat. The grey-suited man seemed well over fifty, and an air of distinction surrounded him, perfused by broken by his amiable smile. "What brings you here?"

"Harry," I greeted, taking a seat next to Stacey, who looked surprised and relieved, a polite smile still etched on her face despite the accusations thrown at her. "Actually I'm here to defend Stacey."