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“Yeah, ethos can apply in storytelling. The other day I read Storm Cloud. It’s a story about an asexual Japanese woman who’s heading toward an arranged marriage. The entire thing was fiction. The couple can’t stand each other at first and the reader is cracking up over all the pranks they pull to drive the other away. Then they get caught in a typhoon and end up relying on each other to get home. It ends with the two of them happy they’re marrying their best friend.
“All fiction,” I said, “because the author isn’t married and no one’s lived through half the stuff in her book. But she is Japanese and asexual. There’s credibility in her storytelling and portrayal of an asexual person because she is one too. The audience can trust her to write from a place that’s authentic.”
Adonis snapped his finger. “Excellent, Miss Sinclair. So good, it’s going on the board.”
Write from a place that’s authentic.
“Everything we do this semester will boil down to this,” he said, underlining my quote. “Authenticity. And start doing it now, because the essays you turned in on the first day were dismal.”
People laughed like he was joking. Sadly, I knew he wasn’t.
“Don’t hand me sanitized, polite, uniform papers. This is literature class, not a résumé-writing class.”
The corner of my mouth tugged up. Adonis didn’t just say it, he lived it. I read passion on his face—felt it in his words.
“Be real, be honest. Mr. Branlon was pissed I called him unprepared, and he called me on it. Argued with emotion and logic, determined I acknowledge he’s right and I’m wrong. Approach every day in this class the same way. With the determination to show the world your passion, logic, and authenticity.”
The class applauded him. He waved it off. “All right, all right. Now, put everything away except your pencil.” The corners of Adonis’s mouth curved up too. “You have a quiz on the supplemental reading.”
“What?” someone cried. “But, sir—”
“Supplemental is defined as in addition to what is present,” he sliced in. “It’s not defined as voluntary, which is what optional means. From here on, I’m sure you won’t make the mistake of mixing those definitions up.”
No one was clapping for him then. Grumbles filled the room, and Victor punched Branlon’s shoulder. I guessed he mumbled something about his brother that wasn’t too complimentary.
I took my quiz without a word. Unlike the rest of my classmates, I did the supplemental reading because my nightmares woke me up in the middle of the night and there was nothing else for me to do.
“You have twenty-five minutes,” Adonis said. “No talking. Eyes on your own paper. Begin.”
Bending over the desk, I scribbled my name across the top and read the first question. Silence blanketed the hall, broken only by the soft scritch, scritch, scritch of pencils.
“Psst.” Eva tapped my thigh.
I glanced over as she slid a piece of paper across her desk.
Do you have an extra eraser? I read.
Nodding, I bent to grab my—
“Professor Anthony, she’s copying off my paper!”
“What?!” I whirled to Adonis, whose shock melded into disappointment as he saw the scene through his eyes. Me hunched over and reading off Eva’s desk.
I reeled back. “No, I didn’t. I—”
“Quiet, Miss Sinclair. Hand in your paper.”
“I didn’t cheat!”
“Hand in your paper,” he repeated, eyes hard. “We’ll discuss this and the actions that’ll be taken in my office this afternoon after classes.”
My mouth hung open. Actions? I read the student code of conduct. Cheating was automatic academic probation. Cheating on a test, term paper, or final exam was expulsion.
I burned a hole in Eva’s head, not missing for a second the smirks on Alice and Rose.
“What happened to Dregs stick together?” I hissed.
She shrugged imperceptibly. “What can I say? Someone dared me.” Eva winked. “I win.”
“Now, Miss Sinclair.”
Stiffly, I got up and handed in my paper. My chest squeezed as he wrote a big, fat zero across the top.
I returned to my seat in the back where I’d stay for the rest of the semester. Snickers trailed me up.
Was the whole class waiting for her to pull that? Did the mean girl put on that routine to make me accept their invitation to sit down? They all looked pleased at my coming punishment, except for Victor who glanced between me and Eva in confusion.
He didn’t know me well enough to say I wasn’t a cheater, but for a second, I thought I saw his eyes narrow on her.
I spent the rest of class reading Winter’s letter, reminding me of why I would not be expelled that day. I would get Professor Anthony to listen to me.
The clock struck nine thirty and the class filed out. I dragged my feet leaving, lingering behind to talk to Professor Anthony.
“I suggest you continue on to class,” he said, attention pinned to the papers he was grading. “Anything you have to say will be said this afternoon.”
