“It’s an academic integrity matter.”
“Not before the interview date. I’m sorry.”
I walked out into the hallway and leaned against a locker. For a second, I actually considered dropping the whole thing and letting Brittany win. It felt easier than fighting my own house.
“It’s an academic integrity matter.”
***
Miss Garcia found me at lunch, sitting with a sad little carton of milk and no appetite.
“You showed me the first draft weeks ago,” she said, sliding into the seat across from me.
“The counselor won’t do anything before the interview.”
“Then don’t go through the counselor.”
I looked up.
Miss Garcia found me at lunch.
“There’s one more thing Brittany can’t fake,” my teacher said. “The meaning behind the essay. She’s never once asked you about how you felt about your dad. Not really.”
I let out a broken little laugh.
“She asked me last month what ‘metaphor’ meant. She thought I was talking about pasta.”
Miss Garcia blinked.
“I hope you’re kidding.”
“I really wish I was.”
She almost smiled. Then her face turned serious again.
I let out a broken little laugh.
“You have the truth, Halle. You just have to be the one to put it in front of the right person.”
