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Professor Chan went silent for a minute before sighing again, this time in what sounded like resignation. “Fine. I’ll have a look at it,” she said in a clipped tone, motioning for me to hand over my phone. “I really hope this is worth my time.”
An uncomfortable silence reigned in the office as she slowly scanned my essay. Bile worked its way up my throat as I waited. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I could be kicked out of the class. I could even be expelled from Worthington.
Five minutes later, Professor Chan looked up at me, face softening slightly. “This is a very different paper,” she said, brows furrowing. “It’s well-written. Your arguments are well-reasoned, too.”
“So you see—there was no reason for me to delete it from the submission portal and replace it with some poorly-written plagiarized thing,” I said, eyes widening. “That’s the essay I wanted to hand in. It’s the essay I did hand in.”
She went silent for another moment. It seemed to last an eternity. “Have you ever shared your student login details with anyone else?” she finally asked.
“No. Definitely not.”
“Can you think of anyone who might want to sabotage your academic career?”
Yes.
“No,” I murmured. “I can’t think of anyone. But I know the journalism program here is extremely competitive, so maybe…”
I trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
“Well, the thing is, cases of academic sabotage are extremely rare. But I have to admit, the evidence here is quite compelling,” Professor Chan said. “I also agree with your assessment of the situation. It simply wouldn’t make sense for you to delete a good essay, which was handed in on time, and replace it with semi-literate garbage after the deadline passed.”
My heart soared. “So you believe me?”
She dipped her chin in a curt nod. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt this time, given the evidence. But I want to make something clear—if an incident like this happens ever again, I won’t be able to let it slide.” A warning tone had entered her voice. “You’re very, very lucky you were able to prove yourself in this case.”
“I understand.”
“You should really thank the friend who told you to take those screenshots. If you weren’t able to show me that proof of your initial submission, I’d have no choice but to assume the worst. Like I said, we take plagiarism very seriously here. Most cases end in expulsion.”
“I understand,” I repeated, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much for believing me.”
“Please email your essay to me so I can mark it properly.” Professor Chan rose to her feet. “I’d also recommend you change your student account password immediately.”
“I will. Right away.”
“I believe there may be an option for two-factor authentication these days, so it might be prudent to look into that as well.”
With that, I was dismissed. I stepped out of the office in a daze, still barely able to process everything that had just happened.
By the time I got to the foyer to meet Tate, the shock had waned, and a blend of fury and misery was setting in. Hot tears gathered in my eyes, and it became harder for me to breathe as I struggled to contain my anguish.
Tate jumped up when he saw me. “Hey, did you get the job?” he asked. His enthusiastic smile vanished when he registered the expression on my face. “Oh my god. What happened?”
“I… I almost got expelled,” I choked out, sniffing back the tears.
“What?”
I haltingly explained the situation. By the time I was done, his face had turned red with anger. “This is so fucked up,” he said in a low voice, wrapping his arms around me. “Who the hell would do this to you?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, face crumpling as I leaned into the hug.
“I seriously can’t believe this shit,” Tate said, drawing back. “First someone attacks you. Now this? It’s almost like… like someone’s targeting you.”
I opened my mouth to say something. Then I firmly closed it again. There was no point telling Tate my suspicions about Paxton. After all, I had zero evidence that he’d hacked into my student account, so it would just look like a baseless accusation designed to malign Paxton all over again. As if I didn’t do enough damage to him the first time around, with my so-called ‘lies’ about the massacre.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “It’s horrible.”
“Let’s go and get that latte I promised you earlier. I’ll text Michaela as well. See if she’s free to meet us.”
