ALC: I don’t think he was trying to give you crap. I think he was saying this is all a pr disaster and people are like, super obsessed and mad. So much madder than I would have guessed they’d be. Like people pay to get into college all the time. They build buildings and endow departments. Why is this any different?

Slyse: And your mom is famous, so…

TheIgster: I don’t even understand how this is illegal. How could this be mail fraud if no one sent anything through the mail? I don’t even know HOW to send a letter

PhinnyB: Seriously, I’m sorry, Chloe

PrettyPen: Hey will you guys hit up my Insta page? I’m losing followers by the minute

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Then

Levi holds my hand as he walks me to my locker. It’s casual, a loose link, like we’re not trying to make a big fuss.

“We need to celebrate your new score,” Levi says, and bumps my hip with his. Every time he touches me, I can hear the tiniest click in my mind: it’s me taking a picture to capture the moment so I can savor it later like I’m my own paparazzo. “I have a student council meeting after school and then tennis and an AP physics quiz tomorrow. So crap, we won’t be able to do it today.”

“Remember when they promised us that senior year we’d get to coast?” I say.

“I don’t know who they are, but they definitely lied.”

“The patriarchy. A bunch of lying liars who lie,” I say, which doesn’t even make sense, but Levi laughs anyway.

“I can’t even think about coasting until I have an acceptance letter in hand, and even then, did you know they can rescind it if you don’t keep up your grades?” Levi asks.

“The patriarchy can rescind your college admissions?”

“You just like saying the word patriarchy.”

“I also like the words onomatopoeia and solipsistic. Those are my top three, I think. Ooh, and rabble-rouser,” I say, but he doesn’t take the banter-bait.

“Can you imagine you finally get into your dream school, and they’re like, ‘Nope, sorry, we changed our minds because you blew that math test’?” Levi’s getting into Harvard, just like Shola. He’s never blown an exam in his entire life. The more time we spend together, the more I realize that that which he has always made seem effortless is not effortless at all. This boy likes to work.

When he rubs his eyes, that habit that unravels my insides every time, it’s because he’s exhausted. I actually feel a weird relief in seeing all of the effort behind his success. It gives me an easier, albeit still uncomfortable explanation for my being toward the bottom of my class.