Chapter Seventeen. Clara
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CLARA
THEN
AT THE LEGACY ASSEMBLY? I was a wreck. Reid put a reassuring hand on my bobbing knee and squeezed.
Things had become strange between us since the hot springs.
He’d been distant—which I thought I wanted.
We spent my birthday together the day before, and while I didn’t mind that he hadn’t given me a gift, it was unexpected.
I didn’t know how to act around him, either.
Especially not in this moment that my entire life hinged on.
The lights lowered as the assembly was about to start. The nerves weren’t just about the decision, though. As part of my Legacy submission, I used the same documentary sample as my CAFA application. It was a short glimpse into the longer doc I was making about the Legacy Program and Woodhurst.
I had received a message the night before that they wanted to use the video to hype everyone up. That felt like a really good sign, but it would be the first time my work outside of yearbook videos would be seen by so many people.
The assembly began like it had every year prior, with a full-out dance performance by the pom squad. Delaney was front and center, sparkly and dazzling as always. When it was over and the crowd calmed down, the projection screen descended behind Principal West onstage.
It was time to announce the Legacies. My mom was in the crowd, still in scrubs, having rushed from work. But she was there, and that’s what mattered to me.
Principal West propped his reading glasses on and, after a short speech about the importance of Legacy, he began to read out four names I expected to hear. Reid Rousseau. Amaya Masters. Joshua West. Delaney Whitlock.
The fifth and final name was one I’d only dared to hope for.
Mine.
Reid wrenched me into a hug. My mom waved to me from her spot in the crowd, eyes shining. Everything slotted into place. My dreams. My future. I was going to film school, and I was getting out of Woodhurst. It was a joyous, riotous blur. Maybe the best moment of my life.
“To celebrate, we have something very special to share with you. Clara, who is planning to attend California Film Academy this fall to study documentary filmmaking, has made a video about our esteemed Legacy Program. You’ll see exactly why she was chosen as a Legacy.”
The lights went out, and the screen flickered on, but the image remained black as we heard only the sound of heavy breathing and the clack-swish, clack-swish of what I knew were toe shoes hitting the studio floor over and over.
Everyone cheered as Delaney filled the screen doing pirouette after pirouette after pirouette.
I’d cut her four-hour rehearsal down to a handful of seconds.
She tried to get a new move exactly right but kept wobbling.
After every slip she’d study herself in the dance mirror—drawing her hands across her collarbones or her hips, or squeezing her thighs then trying again.
Especially when her dance teacher yelled at her in a clipped accent that she kept landing “heavy—too heavy.”
It was a similar grueling opening for everyone featured. Amaya on the stage warming up her voice when she had pneumonia, Josh typing an essay on the bus after one of our races, Reid running sprints over and over on the school track.
I caught a close-up of Reid, sweat slipping down his nose as he caught his breath. He stood, dropped his water bottle onto the grass and went back to the track.
My voice filtered from off camera, asking him an off-the-cuff question, “You’re going again? Aren’t you tired?”
He shot me a devilish grin over his shoulder. I remembered being so proud I had the camera trained on him as he panted out, “It’s about what you do when you’re tired.”
Everyone cheered again as the rock music I’d put over that moment swelled.
But then in an instant it cut out.
The screen went black on a part that I knew was supposed to cut to a close-up of the blood seeping through Reid’s sweaty, dirty arm bandage at state that he refused to let Coach look at. It was the beginning of the real story of Legacy. How hard everyone pushed to achieve it.
But that’s not what played. People clearly thought the cutout was intentional at first, but the longer the screen was dark, the confusion started to rise. Both in the room and in me.
Did something happen to the computer? The file?
It finally started up again. Only, it wasn’t my doc.
It was a blurry, bobbing image of a chaotic party.
Of a girl wrapped around a guy. His back was to the camera.
The room was dark and the video grainy, but the only thing that was absolutely clear was her face—my face—when I pulled back for a second.
Next to me Reid breathed, “What the fuck?”
Because it wasn’t just a video of me.
It was a video of me making out with Josh at that party last summer.
The voices around us rose with laughter and shock, and Principal West stormed onto the stage, waving his arms frantically at the projection booth.
Just in time for the image of me pulling his son’s shirt off to be displayed across his chest. I had been so drunk, I didn’t even remember doing that.
I hadn’t even realized someone else had come into the room.
Eons passed before the screen cut to black.
My ears rang, my body heavy and weightless all at once as I stood. Everyone staring. Low murmurs and shocked whispers.
Except from Reid, who looked like he wanted to set the gym on fire.
It was supposed to be a triumphant moment. Showing my work to the school. Becoming a Legacy. Securing my future out of Woodhurst.
My future with Reid.
I was in such shock, I wasn’t sure how I got out of there. But my churning stomach forced me to my feet.
I burst through the auditorium doors and managed to make it to the hallway trash can before I threw up. Hands wrapped around my hair to keep it out of my face. Delaney’s hands.
I cleaned up in the bathroom, rinsing my mouth and splashing water on my face over and over.
Trying to convince myself I would be okay.
Somehow I would be okay. But nothing worked.
Delaney handed me some gum and rubbed my back.
When we emerged, Reid, Principal West, and my mom—more furious than I’d ever seen her—were all waiting in the hallway with somber expressions.
“Come with me,” Principal West said.
I shook the entire way to his office. Embarrassed and terrified and so confused. Why would anyone record that? Play it?
Who could hate me so much they’d do that?
As soon as the door closed, my mom rounded on him.
West’s expression flattened like he knew what was coming. “Dani—”
“What just happened to my daughter is unconscionable, Ryan!”
Hearing them call each other by their first names was always the creepiest reminder they went to high school together.
“This is simply not the kind of behavior the program can condone—”
The rest of Principal West’s speech was exactly what I expected the second I saw my face on the video. All about the rules and expectations of a Legacy. His first concern was not about how this happened or who was behind it. Or how humiliating it was. Or protecting me, his student.
It was about the way a potential Legacy made the program look.
Made him look. Made his son look.
It took me a moment to fully understand what he was saying. Which was that I was no longer eligible for the scholarship.
“That’s ridiculous,” my mom spat.
I tried to defend myself, my entire face burning. “Kissing isn’t against the rules.”
“What about the person who recorded it?” Reid asked.
“And just played it in front of the entire school?” Delaney continued. “Are they going to be punished?”
Principal West shook his head, holding his hands up. “Everyone needs to calm down. I appreciate you’re upset for your friend, but this really doesn’t concern either of you. I think it would be best if you left.”
My throat constricted when neither Delaney nor Reid moved.
West sighed. “Clara, what just happened was … unfortunate. I enjoyed your documentary very much and appreciate all your contributions to Woodhurst. We’ll of course do our best to get to the bottom of what transpired here today, but … I can’t make any promises.”
Reid’s face went furious. “That’s it?”
My pulse flew, but I met Principal West’s eyes when I asked, “Is Josh disqualified?”
“Why would he be?”
The silence was cacophonous.
“Because he was in the video, too!” Delaney’s arms flew to either side as she stated the obvious.
West cleared his throat. “Though less than wholesome, it isn’t only what transpired in the video that is of concern.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Mom asked.
The leather chair West sat in creaked as he leaned back and rubbed his brow bone with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s that word has gotten around suggesting some students with connections to the program have been used in exchange for putting in a good word for those seeking to use them.”
“And you believe that?” I asked, my shaky voice almost lilting to a laugh at my utter disbelief.
He leveled his gaze on me. “It’s not about what I believe. It is now too difficult to refute. Joshua did put in a good word for you, and it is now impossible to know whether that was done in good faith.”
The fight in me started to wane. Maybe I had done nothing to earn it other than throw myself at the principal’s son.
“Furthermore, Legacies are role models. We cannot choose someone who clearly has no regard for the rules.” He sniffed. “Or their own reputation for that matter.”
“This is so unfair. We all break the rules all the time—” Delaney started.
I reached out and gripped her wrist, telling her to stop for her own sake.
West shot her a disapproving look. “Be that as it may, your actions weren’t just on display for the entire community, including half the board. I’m afraid my hands are tied.”