37. Tori
37
TORI
“It’s going to be fine,” I said to Kyle as we waited outside the English Department conference room.
I stood up, absent-mindedly starting to pace, but Kyle tugged on my hand until I sat down again. “It’ll be fine,” I repeated.
“So you’ve said.”
He looked remarkably calm, for someone accused of cheating. And—though this should’ve been the last thing on my mind—remarkably good. He had on black jeans, a tight blue gray henley shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, and for the first time in my memory, his varsity baseball jacket.
It looked good on him—very good. Which wasn’t the point. His looks weren’t on trial, just his integrity. And possibly mine. Because anyway you sliced it, if the department truly thought he cheated, then they had to either think I was in on it or incompetent. Neither were pleasant thoughts.
But the worst thought was how hard Kyle had worked. How he’d really tried, especially with his last paper. And now they wanted to fail them.
As if reading my mind, he patted my arm. “Your grade should be fine. They can’t hold you accountable if your student cheated.”
“You didn’t cheat,” I said firmly. “And it seemed like they didn’t have an issue with failing me if my tutoring student failed.”
His jaw clenched, and he looked away.
“You didn’t cheat, Kyle,” I said again. “That’s the important thing. That’s all that matters.”
He shook his head slowly, clearly not believing me. “To be honest, Tori, they probably would have accused me of cheating even if AI that can write papers in seconds didn’t exist. I don’t know how we’re going to prove otherwise.”
We’d been through this before. That was the only thing I’d been able to learn before his meeting, that they thought he used AI to write his papers, which was ridiculous. And I hadn’t even learned that from my advisor, who hadn’t answered any of my messages. That info had come from Professor Abrams, my Comp 102 teacher.
I patted my journal, and the prints-outs in it. “I’ve got a record of every tutoring session and what we covered in each one. I’ve got the dates of all the drafts you wrote. Every study group you attended.”
His hand had moved to my thigh, but he kept it still, like an afterthought. Needless to say, that wasn’t how he usually approached touching me. But then he gave a ghost of a smile. “I hope you didn’t provide full details of everything we did during the study group sessions.”
For his sake, I returned his smile. “I was vague on a few parts of it.”
He was silent, his expression stony. Every time someone walked past us in the hallway, I looked up, wondering if we were about to be summoned into the little room. But apparently they were in no hurry to let us in there.
Kyle cleared his throat. “They can’t fail you if I cheated,” he said gruffly.
“You didn’t cheat.”
“I know, but even if they don’t believe that, they shouldn’t be able to touch you.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
There was a tick in his jaw as he looked away.
Finally, Professor Abrams poked her head out of the room. “Kyle? Tori? They’re ready for you.
We stood, and I felt the absurd urge to take his hand. But he was a grown man, he didn’t need me to do that. Except I kind of wanted to do it, anyway.
Professor Abrams gave me a brief smile as she held the door for us, but there was obvious concern on her face.
Inside the conference room, several people were already seated around the table. My advisor, Dr. Mitchell was there. He didn’t even look up when I came in. Maybe he was still irritated about how I’d stood up to him before about my class choices next semester. But I was glad I’d done that—and grateful that Kyle had encouraged me to do so.
A man in a suit sat next to my advisor. I was pretty sure he was the assistant chair of the English department. And there was a guy in his early thirties in a windbreaker, whom Kyle obviously knew. He must’ve been the representative from the Athletics Department. Kyle shook his hand and sat down next to him, and I didn’t like the way it looked, as if Kyle was on trial with his representative at his side. Which, I supposed, was true. But it wasn’t right, and to be honest, it scared me.
Professor Abrams indicated a chair next to her, which was supportive of her, but I sat on Kyle’s other side, unwilling to abandon him. And also making it clear, up front, that I didn’t believe the accusations against him.
Once we were settled, the co-chair of the department, Dr. Daniels, began with a long speech that included phrases such as interdepartmental cooperation, good faith arrangements, and lack of academic integrity, and betrayal of Langley standards.
Wonderful. Good to know he was keeping an open mind.
Then he laid out the gist. It was as we suspected, he thought that Kyle had used AI to write his papers. “We ran both of the papers he’s turned in so far this semester against an AI checker, and the likelihood that they were written by AI was 86% and 91% respectively.”
Which was ridiculous. Kyle had written those papers. I’d sat next to him while he did so, at least most of the time.
Professor Abrams jumped in. “We are aware that those tools aren’t always accurate.”
The co-chair looked as if he disagreed, but then he turned to Kyle. “What do you have to say about these charges?”
“They’re bullshit,” Kyle said. Not with heat—just a statement of fact.
“Language, young man,” Dr. Mitchell said. Had my advisor always been this much of a jerk?
“Coach told me to meet with a tutor. I did. She helped me. I wrote those papers. End of story,” Kyle stated flatly.
“It’s not the end of the story if you didn’t do the work yourself,” Dr. Daniels said.
“He did.” I took the floor, unsure whether it would ever be offered to me again. “We went through all the steps together. From analyzing the assignment to discussing what the professor was looking for. To making an outline. Kyle would work from the outline, show me what he’d written, I’d give suggestions, and then he’d rewrite it. Over and over and over. On that first paper, we spent weeks with multiple drafts. If he’d just used AI, trust me, it wouldn’t have taken anywhere near that long.”
Professor Abrams nodded at me. She knew the process—she’d been the one to teach it to me.
I pulled the papers out of my journal. “I have a list of the time and date of every tutoring session and study group along with what we covered.” The only thing I hadn’t done was to list the locations of each session since some were back at the house. We weren’t sure if the English Department was aware of our living situation. I hadn’t updated my address with the school—it hadn’t made sense when I kept moving from place to place so rapidly.
“The other members of the study group can vouch for the fact that he wrote those papers on his laptop largely during those times,” I concluded.
The co-chair looked skeptical. “Isn’t your cohort made up of your friends? Including his stepbrother.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, while I barely managed not to. If they knew the tense relationship between Kyle and Lucas, they wouldn’t be so quick to assume Lucas would vouch for him.
Professor Abrams glanced through the pages I handed her, a thoughtful expression on her face. She handed them to my advisor, who ignored them and pushed them toward the co-chair of the English department. Who also didn’t look at them. Wonderful.
“Victoria’s records are very thorough,” Professor Abrams said. “And she’s right about the drafting process. If she says that Kyle wrote the bulk of the essays while working with her, then I believe her. I believe both of them.”
Finally, the representative from the Athletics Department spoke up. “There’s no evidence that our star slugger cheated.”
It was clear where his priorities were, but I was glad someone else was defending Kyle anyway.
Then Dr. Daniels sighed. “We do have one more piece of evidence.”
I exchanged a quick glance with Kyle. He looked as baffled as I felt. Dr. Daniels pulled his phone out of the pocket of his suit jacket and placed it on the table in front of him. He flipped through several screens and then pushed his phone toward the middle of the table. “We received this from an anonymous source.”
He pressed play, and a staticky sound filled the little room. I heard the babble of low voices faintly, and the sound of glasses clicking together. Was it recorded in a bar?
Then a voice came through, strong and clear. “ Yeah, it was easy.”
My heart sank. That was Kyle. Why did they have a recording of him?
“ I recorded her while she was telling me how to fix the paper. Then after, I’d play it for the AI, and it would follow her instructions. Then I’d add a few spelling mistakes and show it to her as my next draft. She’s so fucking gullible—she thought she was actually teaching me.”
Kyle sat straight up in his chair, his posture stiff as he stared at the phone.
And as for me… I sat there, frozen. Why had he said that? I knew it wasn’t true. But… had he done that in the beginning, perhaps? I still didn’t see how. And yes, academics weren’t his strength, but I couldn’t picture him doing that.
So why was he saying he did?
The recording was playing background noise, but now it resumed. “ Shit, the department should be glad I made the effort. I could’ve just gotten her to write it for me. Girls like her will do anything I tell them. Write my paper, get on their knees… anything I want.”
The recording ended as my heart stopped. I froze, aware that everyone in the room was staring at me.
Except for Kyle. His eyes were glued to the now silent phone, his face completely blank.
My heart resumed pounding with a frantic, irregular beat. Who had he said that to? And why? None of this made sense.
Professor Abrams cleared her throat, not looking at me. “What is the purpose of that recording other than to embarrass my student, a young woman who gladly gave up her time to provide the help that we requested?”
“The purpose is to provide necessary evidence for this disciplinary hearing,” Dr. Daniels said.
Kyle slammed his hand on the table, making all of us jump. “I never said any of that.” He was still staring toward the middle of the table, not meeting anyone’s eye.
Including mine.
And it had been his voice…
The English Department co-chair shoved the papers I’d provided into his briefcase without looking at them. “The committee will be in touch.” That part was directed toward the guy from the Athletics Department.
Kyle finally lifted his head, and he put his hand on my arm. I flinched, pushing my chair back and getting to my feet.
I couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. So many feelings were fighting for dominance in my mind. Embarrassment. Confusion. Disappointment.
Kyle got to his feet.
But those things he’d said… it wasn’t just the cheating now. It was the other things he’d said. Had that maybe been recorded at the beginning of the semester when he barely knew me? But it had sounded like it had been recorded after he’d already written at least one paper.
If he did write it.
Professor Abrams came to my side. “We’re done here. Why don’t you come back to my office?”
Her voice was full of concern and kindness, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. And I certainly couldn’t look at Kyle. Would his face show the truth? A truth I maybe didn’t want to hear. Just like I wished with all my heart I hadn’t heard that recording.
I fled the room.