Chapter Thirty-Three
I spend Monday hiding in our flat. Jack fights his way through the cameras out front to commiserate with me. He insists we plan a strategy for tomorrow based on different tactics the school might take, and I think he and Andy would make a great team. He brings a pint of vegan chocolate gelato and cheese-less pizza, and we spend the afternoon coming up with remorseful and mostly ridiculous platitudes for me to spout like it’s a dysfunctional party game. But it makes me laugh a little.
After Jack leaves, Andrew texts to tell me to report the threatening posts, and I let him know my mom is already on it. I start to text him to ask how Luca is, but then I delete it. Two of the brands I’ve hawked products for DM to tell me to delete the posts associated with them, but other companies are asking to partner with me. Even though I’ve lost a lot of followers, I’ve also gained some, apparently the same people who rubberneck at car crashes.
Dani texts to let me know Andrew has explained it to her.
I’m really sorry,I tell her.
It’s okay. I know how persuasive Andy and Luca can be. You really helped my business get off the ground and I won’t ever be able to repay you for that. I feel so bad. I’m just afraid to say anything that could backfire on me. I’ve worked so hard to get here. She’s really made sure she’s the victim.
I understand. You need to protect the business. It’s not going to help me if you turn the Jasminers against you.
What a stupid name,she replies with a rolling eye emoji.
I mark her text with a laugh, and she sends me a purple heart.
When I go to bed, I can’t sleep. I reread every text Luca ever sent, and even the stupid ones have taken on some nostalgic glow. I scroll through my pictures despite fully understanding that this is obviously a bad idea. By the time I’m done, I’m more in love with him than I was when we were dancing at his grandmother’s party. Then I cry myself to sleep.
Tuesday morning is the longest of my life. Sources close to Jasmine say she’s broken up with a distraught Luca now that she sees he was taking advantage of how vulnerable she was after Rowdy, and she’s “taking a break from dating to heal and center herself.” The source also reports she’s been spending a lot of time with some Hollywood A-list actor, but they’re “just friends.” The hypocrisy seems to be completely lost on the reporter, and I’m sure the audience. Everyone’s favorite diva has also been writing a lot of new songs as “therapy.” That can’t be good news for Luca or me. At least I know Luca’s heart isn’t breaking over her. Then it’s finally time to go.
The Eternal City is sweltering at three o’clock in the afternoon in late July. I take the metro because my high school is across the Tiber River. Sensible Romans are resting from the heat, so I’m surrounded by tourists. I hear their chatter as if it’s on the other side of a door, muffled and incomprehensible even when English is spoken. I walk from the metro to the little building I didn’t think I’d have to see again, and the day Luca came to offer his deal feels so long ago it’s like it happened in ancient Rome. I follow the familiar halls to the office of my guidance counselor, Mr.Lackland. He’s a young guy who usually finds his job an inconvenience to the hipster expat life he’s carved out for himself in Rome.
The place smells of old leather and ink. I knock on Mr.Lackland’s open door.
“Ah, Astoria, come in,” he says. He wears a close beard and a striped short-sleeve button-down.
There’s a television set up across from the doorway. On the screen is an empty conference room somewhere on the campus of what was once my future college. He gestures for me to sit on a small leather sofa across from his desk.
“The Admissions team and an attorney for the school will be coming on momentarily. My role is just to facilitate a place where you could meet confidentially that would be neutral territory, given the distance. I have no say in their decision-making process. Though, I am here to help you with any decision that might need to be made.” He looks extremely uncomfortable as he ticks a pencil against his notepad. I was one of his prized college entries, along with Jack and our valedictorian.
Some response is necessary, so I nod. If they have their attorney coming, then I’m in for a scolding before they take my offer away. Awkward silence fills the room. “Should I have brought my mother?” I ask. “The email didn’t say anything about anyone but me, and she had a big meeting at work today.”
He shifts in his chair. “I think this is fine.”
I nod again and check my phone. It’s now 3:04. Another minute or so goes by. I pick at my nails. Then there’s a small commotion, and three people come into view. They say hello to Mr.Lackland and thank him for hosting us. My admissions counselor, Ms.Golding, says hello to me and introduces the others. There’s an attorney named Ms.Liu and a Mr.Miller, who is Ms.Golding’s boss.
“Ms.Herriot,” Mr.Miller says, “we’re here today because of the disturbing reports that reached us this weekend about your personal life. There seems to be a new tabloid revelation every hour. Normally, such reports of off-campus behavior would not concern us, but the high-profile and international standing of those involved, in conjunction with the deceitful nature of the accusations, are deeply concerning. As you know, this is a prestigious institution, and we are very selective in our admissions process. Our reputation is something we take very seriously.”
My mother would have a full cross-examination ready for them about that if she were here, so it’s probably best she’s not.
They spend the next half hour talking about the high moral expectations they have for their students and what their process is for disciplinary proceedings. I’m apparently a novelty in their grab bag of behavior to find alarming. I don’t say anything unless they ask me a question. They spend a lot of time telling me they’re not there to attack me, only to make sure the best decision is made for everyone involved. This implies me, too, but they don’t seem concerned about what I think is best forme.
Then they talk about the fact that I’m a double legacy, “despite the unfortunate circumstances of my father’s passing,” and my impeccable record up to the “disturbing reports of my conduct.” They ask if the reports are true.
“Aspects of them are.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
I’m suddenly not sure that I do. There are good colleges in Maine and Massachusetts, places that might not be so afraid of some bad publicity, I suppose.
“No,” I say. “I wouldn’t like to elaborate. I was just trying to help people to not have to live in a fishbowl. Especially when one of them was in rehab.”
There’s an awkward silence for a few minutes. Then Mr. Miller asks me to excuse them, and they turn off the video and mute the feed.
“Ms.Herriot,” Mr.Miller says when they come back, “your behavior has brought a lot of negative attention to the university, as I’m sure you can imagine. However, we understand that, as a fan, you would have been swept away in this world of fame and fortune, and we’re willing to allow you to come to campus in the fall. It will be a probationary admission, subject to your being able to keep your name out of these celebrity publications and avoid further deceptive practices.”
The room seems to grow distant. I think about the day in the restaurant when Luca and I made our pact. This moment, just like the moment I knew I would help Luca, is the defining one. Even though I’ll never see Luca again, their assumptions about us are too much. What we had was real, whatever the rest of the world believes. What I feel for him now is real, even if I can’t fit into his world. But I don’t say anything because I’m too angry.
“Ms.Herriot?” Ms.Liu says. “Is something wrong? This is a very generous offer.”
I stand up. “Thank you for your generous offer. However, I’m declining.” I can’t believe I’m throwing away the college I’ve worked toward my whole life.
“Ms.Herriot,” Ms.Liu says, “I think we deserve an explanation, don’t you?”
I take a deep breath to stop the shaking. “I’ve worked really hard for years for a chance to go to the school where my parents met. There was a time when it meant everything to me. But I’ve done nothing to be dragged in here like this. You’ve insinuated I did this for personal monetary gain and fame when I’m the last person to have done it for either reason. You don’t know Jasmine. You don’t know the Marquess of Dunrobin. And you really don’t know me. What I did was shield another woman from scrutiny she shouldn’t even have to put up with. It’s not anyone’s business whom Jasmine dates. Or Luca. But, because Jasmine has a beautiful voice and the audacity to make a living off of it, some large segment of society thinks it owns the rights to every detail of her personal life. And what about Jeremy? What I did was shield someone in rehab from tabloids wanting to dissect his most vulnerable moments for a circus show.
“When I met Luca Kinnaird, I didn’t even know he was royalty. I don’t follow Jasmine, and I’m definitely not her fan. She’s not even a nice person. But that doesn’t mean her privacy should be invaded the way mine has been for the last two months, and it’s way worse for her. Luca Kinnaird never publicly called me his girlfriend. Yes, we let the tabloids think we were dating. But they didn’t believe us even when we denied being a couple! Instead, they took lies from people who have no authority to speak for us, who aren’t close to us and don’t know the truth, and printed them as facts. We’re human beings, not commodities.
“My whole life, I’ve been the new kid, the outsider, which was made a thousand times worse by not wanting anyone to comment on my father’s substance use disorder. I’ve kept my head down so no one would even know about him, and believe me, people say really mean things when they do. But you think I was motivated because I wanted to glom on to Jasmine’s celebrity? You think I enjoyed being stalked twenty-four seven by strangers who took my photo without my permission, photos I have no control over, while they yelled and printed insults about me? If you think anything I’ve done is less moral than that, then my disturbing behavior isn’t the problem here.”
I finish, out of breath and trembling. Behind me, someone starts to clap. I turn around. Luca is standing in the doorway.