The New Girl

“I—” I don’t. Why did I say I have proof? All I have is the test paper from SiliconBrains, someone I don’t know. Someone who probably stole it from Mr. Werner in the first place. “I have proof,” I say again, “and trust me, you don’t want to tell Mrs. Henderson.”

His face twitches. “Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want. Know what I want? I want to keep my job.”

“Am I in the way of that?”

An eternity passes before he answers. “My in-laws.”

“Come again?” What the heck do I have to do with his in-laws?

That twitch again. “Daniel’s parents.”

Right. That bizarre familial connection.

“They called,” he says. “They don’t want you to keep seeing Daniel.”

Wow. This is not real. This is—no. “Did I just step into a K-drama? What’s going on?”

“You’re not stupid. You know why.”

The phone call from Danny’s mom. Danny telling her she’s racist. My own mother’s struggle to be accepted by Papa’s family. There’s a feeling in my stomach, this horrible clench like when you bite into a piece of fruit and realize it’s rotten. I’m thinking of Ibu now. Realizing just how much of this hate she’s had to go through. Papa’s whole family seeing her as nothing more than a brown woman.

“I’ll stop seeing Danny,” I say, desperately. “We’ll just be friends. Please, don’t report me.”

“I don’t think they’ll believe that.”

“So I’m going to be expelled because I started dating the wrong guy?” My entire future is about to be destroyed because I’m the wrong color.

“If it makes you feel better, that’s not quite true. You’re going to be expelled because you cheated on my test.” He picks up his phone and starts dialing.

And then. Something magical happens.

The door to his office swings open, and Mandy strides in, saying, “Here’s the rest of the money—”

The only thing wider than my eyes is my mouth. And Mandy’s mouth. It’s just for a second, then she quickly recovers and says, “For the school trip. What’re you doing here?”

“What school trip?” I say.

Mandy glares at me. “The school trip from last semester.”

“Where did you guys go?”

“The museum,” Mandy says.

“Which museum?” I’m relentless. I’m a shark that smells blood.

“MoMA. In SF.”

“Why would an English Lit class go to the MoMA?”

“Enough.” Mr. Werner’s voice silences us both. “Come back later,” he says to Mandy.

She shoots me her very best bitch face and then stalks out with a hair flick. I turn back to look at Mr. Werner. I have no idea if I have enough to report him—in fact, I probably don’t—but this is enough to shake the board, surely?

“So you were telling me about how you’re not selling grades to your students?” My voice comes out a lot calmer than I’m feeling.

Mr. Werner looks almost bored. “It’ll be your word against mine.”

Shit, he’s right. It’ll be me, a struggling kid from a neighborhood known for its delinquents against him, a well-respected teacher. I struggle to remain confident. “Yeah, but if I reported you, they’ll have to do an investigation, just in case.”

“And they’ll find nothing. I’m nothing if not meticulous. This is a service I’m offering only to a select few of my students. It doesn’t affect the other students’ grades overmuch, certainly nothing that would look off to anyone else.”

“What if I paid? Like the other kids do?”

“You won’t be able to afford it. There’s a reason why only the wealthiest students can take up my offer. An A costs twenty thousand dollars.”

My hand goes to my kris pendant, squeezing it, my thumb going over the familiar grooves on the sheath. “I don’t need an A. I just need to pass.”

“A C goes for ten thousand. Per test.”

I glare at him, searching every part of my mind for something. Anything.

“Sophie!”

“Yes, what about her?”

Talk about grasping at straws. But you know what? Even straws are better than nothing. “She knows what you’re doing.” A flash of Sophie, kicking madly. “We’ve been talking.” If her gouging cryptic messages on my wall counts as talking. “She says she’s got proof. I wasn’t sure before, but if there’s two of us reporting you, they’ll investigate—”

“And, like I just said, they’ll find nothing.”

“Maybe not on you, but what about the kids?” I’m on to something now. I can feel it, same way dogs can sense the hunt. “Your customers. Not all of them are going to be as anal as you. Look how careless Mandy was. It’s not gonna take much to find something on her or any of your other customers. We’re kids!” I spit the word at him.

Mr. Werner doesn’t say anything for a while, but his jaw clenches and grinds as he watches me. He doesn’t look bored anymore, so I know—I know—I’ve got him. He can’t take me down as easily as he thought. “I don’t have a choice, Lia.”

“You do! You could—” What? What can he do? “Just give me some time. Just—I’ll look into transferring out of here.” Crazy. Completely nuts. But I can’t think of anything else right now. “I’ll tell them it’s a family emergency or whatever. I’ll make it work. Please, Mr. Werner.” My voice comes out trembly with tears. “I can’t—I need this. For college.”

He closes his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

He won’t. But maybe I’ve bought myself a bit of time.





Chapter 10


Not that I have any idea what to do with that time. Once I get back to my room, I fire up my computer and do a search on schools, but I know it’s futile. Even if Mr. Werner were to write me a glowing recommendation—which is hard to believe—what respectable school is going to let me join in the middle of the school year, especially when I’ve started at Draycott not long ago? Too many jumps in such a short time. They’ll know something’s off.

No, what I need to do is find irrefutable evidence of Mr. Werner’s cheating ring. I open my email and type out a message to SiliconBrains.

I need your help. I swallow the lump in my throat and hit Send. God, please send me help.

Luckily, SiliconBrains replies almost immediately. Whoever they are, they’ve got their phone surgically attached to them. Which doesn’t narrow down the possibilities.

If you want another test paper, you’re going to have to do something for me.

I don’t actually need another test paper. I need to know how you found out about Mr. Werner’s cheating ring. Send.

Why?

Why? Because racism. That’s fucking why. Non-Asians wouldn’t understand the hierarchy that exists between different Asian cultures. To them, we’re all just one big giant category. And if SiliconBrains IS Asian, then chances are, they’ve probably got the same bias that everyone else does, so. It’s hard to explain, but basically, I need proof of the cheating ring, otherwise I’m outta here.

Silence.

Okay, now I’m desperate. Please. I’ll lose everything if I can’t prove it. I hit send. Almost instantaneously, I get a reply.

Jesse Q. Sutanto's books