26. Quinn

26

QUINN

" M iss Farrow." Professor Fitzgerald came to a stop in front of me, his brows lowered and his mouth set in a flat line. "See me after class."

My eyes widened.

He knows about the journals.

Swallowing hard, I managed to nod. "Y-yes, sir."

Turning on his heel, he swept away from me, back to the front of the classroom. I blinked rapidly, attempting to get myself under control as I unpacked my bag with shaking hands.

Tristan slid into Penelope's usual seat next to me. Before I could ask him what he was doing, he leaned over to me, speaking low in my ear. "What's he done now?"

My head shot around to face him. "Who?"

"My best mate, who else? Or— Shit, has something else happened?" He was immediately on alert.

I shook my head violently, my ponytail swinging. "No. Nothing. It's Professor Fitzgerald. He asked me to see him after class. I…I took some journals from the library. I just…I wanted to make sure my paper was as good as it could be." My lip trembled. "He…he must've found out."

Cocking his head, he stared at me. "Journals? What's the problem?"

"We're not allowed to remove them from the library."

His brows pulled together. "We're not? I've always taken them."

Of course he has . "Well…okay. But you're you, and I'm me, and removing them from the library isn't allowed."

"Quinn, honestly, I think you're making a big deal about it. You borrowed some books, so what? You put them back, yeah? You didn't damage them?"

"Of course I put them back. I borrowed them the night before last and put them back first thing in the morning, before breakfast. I was really careful with them. I wouldn't do anything to damage them."

His expression cleared. "Then you have nothing to worry about. He probably just wants to talk to you about your paper. You submitted the first draft, right?"

"Do you really think that?" I wanted so badly to believe him.

"I know that, Miss Extra Credit. He probably has a boner over your paper and wants to tell you all about it."

"That's gross!" I shoved at his shoulder, and he laughed, rising to his feet.

"I bet it's true, though. Stop worrying. It's gonna be fine." Flashing me a grin, he went to take his usual seat, and a moment later, Penelope appeared.

"What did Tristan want?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, really. Just Tristan being Tristan."

"He—"

"Miss Byron-Chopard, please take your seat. This is not gossip hour. Do that on your own time, not mine."

Her body stiffened, and she took her seat without another word, her cheeks flushing. I grimaced—it was almost unheard of for the head girl to be berated for anything. When Professor Fitzgerald turned his attention to the screen at the front of the classroom, I discreetly reached out and squeezed her arm. Some of her tension seemed to melt away, although she didn't look at me, her gaze fixating on the screen.

The class passed far too quickly, and before I knew it, the bell was sounding. As everyone gathered up their things, ready to leave, I remained where I was, a ball of anxiety sitting heavy in my stomach.

"Are you coming?" Penelope glanced down at me as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

Doing my best not to let my emotions show on my face, I mustered up a small smile. "No. Professor Fitzgerald wants to speak to me about something. I'll catch up with you later."

"Okay." She took my word for it, thankfully, disappearing with a wave. When the classroom was finally empty, I gathered up my courage and made my way to the front of the classroom.

"Take a seat, Miss Farrow." Professor Fitzgerald indicated towards the chair he'd placed opposite his desk. When I was seated, he cleared his throat. His stern expression faded away as his mouth turned down. "I'm very disappointed, Quinn. Of all my students, you're the one who has shown the most promise. The most integrity. And yet—" He threw his hand out, his finger jabbing at his laptop screen. "—it appears I was wrong."

I licked my dry lips. "I-I know it was wrong to take the journals from the library. I only borrowed them overnight. I just wanted?—"

"If it had only been a case of you borrowing the journals, then maybe—" Cutting himself off, he jabbed at the screen again. "That doesn't even matter. What matters is the fact that you not only removed those books from the library without permission, but you plagiarised several of those journal sources." His voice rose. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think The Historical Review wouldn't notice when you submitted your paper?"

I stared at him in horror. " Plagiarised ?"

"Yes. I expected so much more from you, Quinn. To stoop so low as to cheat?—"

"I didn't cheat! I didn't—I didn't plagiarise anyone! The only reason I wanted those journals was to make sure I could structure my essay properly! I would never—" My voice cracked, tears filling my eyes. "Please. You have to believe me!"

"Enough!" His hand came down on the desk, hard. "I am looking at your draft right now, and I can see the evidence in front of me."

" What ?"

Spinning the laptop to face me, he scrolled past highlighted passages scattered throughout my paper, furiously clicking the mouse. "Here. Here. Here."

I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of what I was seeing on the screen. Leaning forwards, I blinked back my tears, focusing on the words.

The words.

Those weren't my words .

"This isn't my paper," I gasped.

"Don't give me that. We'd already signed off on your chosen research subject, andthe paper came from your email address. I suppose I should thank Mr. Cavendish for bringing your misdemeanours to my attention. Without the knowledge that you'd taken the journals, I might not have inspected it so closely. You were clever, I'll give you that. Rewording it just enough that it wasn't obvious at a casual glance."

"I-I-I—" Roman. He wouldn't . A hot lash of betrayal sliced through me. "Roman told you?"

"Emailed me, yes. Even gave me the names of the journals you'd taken."

"No. There's no way—" That wasn't the most important thing right now. "Please. You have to believe me. This isn't my work. I swear it. I'd never, ever steal someone else's hard work and try to claim it as my own."

Professor Fitzgerald pinched his brow. "You mean to say this isn't your opening paragraph?" Scrolling back up to the top, he began to read aloud, and nausea rose in my throat as I heard the words I'd carefully crafted over hours and hours of notes, research, deliberation, and countless rough drafts.

"Y-yes." The tears fell, and this time, I didn't bother wiping them away. How could I refute what was so plain to him? How could I defend myself when those were the words I'd written? "I-I didn't plagiarise, though. I didn't. I would never . S-someone must've tampered with it. I have backups. I can show you."

"Quinn." His gaze softened fractionally. "I'm sorry. I have to disqualify you from the extra-credit project, and I'll be keeping a careful eye on all your future work."

I couldn't breathe. It hurt so much. "P-please."

"I'm sorry."

The consequences hit me all at once. This was really happening. "Please don't tell my parents. I-I'll do anything."

He sighed heavily. "Plagiarism is a serious offence. I have no choice in the matter. Your head of house will also be informed. As far as I'm concerned, detention for the rest of the term will be a suitable punishment. You can serve it in the library, returning books to the shelf. It seems fitting."

"M-my future…"

"You did this to yourself, Miss Farrow. Cheating has consequences. Please remember that."

I was sobbing now, unable to see through my tears. Professor Fitzgerald cleared his throat, and then he rose to his feet. Coming around the desk, he placed his hand on my shoulder. "Against my better judgement, I'll keep it to myself until after the ball. I know you've been campaigning to be one of the goddesses, and, well…I won't take that away from you."

"Th-thank you," I said brokenly. It hurt even more that he thought he was showing me a small kindness, which, if I had cheated, I most definitely wouldn't have deserved.

"I hope you'll learn your lesson from this." Removing his hand from my shoulder, he sighed again. "I'll give you a minute."

When he'd left me alone, I buried my face in my hands and cried and cried and cried.