27. The Devil You Know
To: Faculty and Staff, Tiffin Academy
From: Audre Robinson
Subject: New Head of School Search
Good morning, all—
It is with a heavy heart that I share the following news: I will be leaving Tiffin at the end of the school year in order to pursue professional and personal opportunities in New Orleans.
Audre pauses to read the words in print. She told Coop that yes, she would go with him to New Orleans, but she wanted to wait a full week before she let the school community know—in case she had second thoughts and changed her mind. Although now she feels just fine.
A comprehensive search for a new Head will begin in the coming weeks.
If anyone on the staff or faculty is interested in pursuing the position, please let me know.
I intend to make sure this transition goes as smoothly as possible.
I will be fulfilling my usual duties and responsibilities until the end of the school year.
Audre stops again. She’s tempted to gush—about what Tiffin has meant to her, about her love and appreciation for the people she has worked with—but she stops herself. As Jesse Eastman said, there will be plenty of time for goodbyes later.
Thank you.
Audre Robinson
The morning after Audre’s bombshell announcement—She’s leaving Tiffin!—Cordelia bumps into Rhode Rivera at the water fountain in the fitness center.
He says, “Pretty shocking news about Audre, huh?”
Cordelia, loyal to the end, says, “Audre is leaving this school far better than she found it.”
Rhode finishes filling his water bottle and steps aside for Cordelia. “Do you think they’ll hire from within the ranks?”
Something about his tone sets off alarm bells. “Are you thinking of throwing your hat into the ring?” Cordelia asks.
“I am, yes,” Rhode says. He hopes he doesn’t detect skepticism—or worse, amusement—in Cordelia’s voice.
Since the start of second term, Rhode has focused on only two things: teaching and writing.
He couldn’t believe there was no backlash about his relationship with Sondra Sacks.
Audre didn’t say a word about it, and Rhode wasn’t about to ride a gift horse back to the Alibi.
He has stayed away from the bar and deleted the dating apps from his phone.
Rhode took his experience with S and turned it into a short story entitled “Mr. Fantabulous.” He sent it off to Oscar, who emailed back less than twenty-four hours later, raving about how good it was, how dark, how crazy.
He loved the details about the She-Shed—the pillar candles, the paintings on the ceiling—and said, “I don’t know how you come up with this shit, man. ”
Oscar promptly sent the story off to both The New Yorker and The Atlantic, where the editors were eager to read it, even though both ultimately passed. Oscar received an offer from LitBoo for twenty-five hundred dollars, as well as an offer from the Sewanee Review.
“The Sewanee Review!” Rhode cried out. “You have got to be kidding, that’s incredible.”
“The pay is about half of what LitBoo is offering. I think once I tell LitBoo there’s another offer on the table, they’ll go to three grand, maybe even thirty-five hundred.”
Thirty-five hundred was tempting, but LitBoo didn’t have the prestige of the Sewanee Review. Sewanee was the oldest literary quarterly in the country; the editor, Adam Ross, was one of Rhode’s own favorite writers.
“I want to go with Sewanee,” Rhode said.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Oscar said. “Not as much money, but better for your writing career.”
Rhode was pleased Oscar considered him a person with a “writing career.” He asked Oscar if they should try to get a book deal, but after a lengthy pause, Oscar said they should wait.
Two stories did not a book make, and even if Rhode wrote more stories, collections of short fiction were notoriously challenging to sell.
Rhode said he understood. He would just take the win—the Sewanee Review!
The only person in the entire Tiffin community who might conceivably know of the Sewanee Review was Charley Hicks. But when Rhode told her the news, she didn’t seem as impressed as he’d hoped.
Because of the breakup with East, Rhode thought. The light in Charley’s eyes had dimmed.
The elation Rhode felt about selling his story mellowed as well. He was staring down another spring break without the money to go away. He thought longingly of the thirty-five hundred dollars LitBoo might have offered; that would have been enough to put him on a plane to Cancún.
Then Audre’s email arrived, and although Rhode had never once considered becoming Head of School, it now seems an obvious next step.
His pay will triple and his workload will be cut in half.
(Right? What does Audre even do? She seems to barely work.) This will leave Rhode plenty of time to write more short stories—or even a novel.
When Cordelia hears Rhode say, I am, yes, she manages to keep a straight face, then say in a cheerful tone, “Ah, me too!”
Rhode appears startled, possibly even irritated, but Cordelia thinks it only fair that she clue him in.
She hopes he realizes she has the inside track.
She has worked at the school longer than anyone except for Mr. James; she’s head of admissions, but she’s been serving as more of an Assistant Head of School for the past two years.
Rhode Rivera is only in his second year of teaching.
Frankly, Cordelia can’t believe the hubris of his applying after such a short tenure.
He must think he has an edge because he’s a man.
(Does he have an edge because he’s a man?
Only three years earlier, Cordelia would have laughed at such a suggestion, but now she’s not so sure.)
Cordelia and Rhode part ways at the water fountain with a new static between them. Cordelia supposes they will no longer be gym buddies, but rivals instead. Which is fine with her. Cordelia relishes nothing more than a good competition.
When Cordelia gets to her office, she ignores the piles of files on her desk—admissions letters go out in just over two weeks, and Cordelia still has nearly a hundred applications to read—and instead, picks up her phone.
She takes a deep breath and composes a text to her former lover, Honey Vandermeid.
Guess what? Audre is leaving Tiffin (long story) and I’m applying for Head. When she presses send, she hears the optimistic swoosh sound, which brings to mind a virtual carrier pigeon delivering this message to Honey in bright, sunny Florida—or wherever she might be.
Then, Cordelia waits. It’s the first time Cordelia has contacted Honey since Honey was dismissed.
As she rereads her text, she wonders if she should have started with some niceties—Good morning, or Long time, no see, or I hope this finds you well.
But before Cordelia can second-guess herself, a response arrives.
OMG, Audre is *leaving*? Voluntarily? Or did something happen? You shouldn’t even have to apply, they should just offer it to you!
Cordelia beams. This is what she believes as well. Nobody else knows the inner workings of this school like Cordelia. She’s tickled by how naturally she and Honey have reestablished their rapport. It’s as if no time has passed.
A second text comes in. When you’re Head, you can rehire me as the college counselor.
Whoa! Cordelia thinks. That’s a little presumptuous—although if Mav doesn’t improve his acceptance rate when regular decisions come out, Cordelia may very well hire Honey back.
Simone Bergeron is gone, Audre will be gone, and Jesse Eastman as well.
Cordelia and Honey could start over with a fresh slate.
Or I could hire you as head of admissions! Cordelia writes back with a winking emoji.
Honey emphasizes the text with two exclamation points, and Cordelia leaves it at that. She sets her phone down and addresses the pile of applications on her desk, imagining her happily ever after.
Olivia receives a text from Pippa during the start of her free period (Pippa has memorized Olivia’s schedule, which is flattering): Meet me in the Back Lot in 5 min.
Wait, Olivia texts. You’re here? She’s pretty sure Pippa isn’t allowed anywhere on Tiffin’s campus. Did you come to see Liam?
Liam is ghosting me, Pippa says. I came to see you. Hurry!
Olivia heads toward the Back Lot bundled in her pink puffer, wishing she owned a less distinctive winter coat.
She might get in trouble for even meeting Pippa, something she can’t afford.
She was so, so lucky that the Haydensboro Massacre happened after her college applications were already in.
If not, she would have had to list it in the section where students are supposed to explain disciplinary infractions—but no one does this retroactively, and schools only alert colleges if a student is dismissed, like Pippa.
Still, Olivia is anxious. Why did Pippa show up here? Texting has been fine.
When Olivia descends the stairs to the Back Lot, she finds Pippa leaning against the back of a black pickup, smoking a cigarette.
“Hey, girlie!” she calls out—and she gives Olivia a long, tight hug like they’re actually friends.
“Hey!” Olivia says as she scans the Back Lot. Mr. James isn’t in his office, thank god. “What are you doing here?”
“Pulling you for a chat,” Pippa says, in a good imitation of Davi’s British accent. “I wanted to see how our revenge plot is coming along. Are East and Charley still broken up?”
“Yeah,” Olivia says, rolling her eyes. “Charley cut me from the newspaper last week. But I’m thinking about writing an article anyway. An exposé.”
“Exposé!” Pippa says. “You’re such a mad genius. You need to figure out what kind of deal East struck with Robinson.” She exhales a stream of smoke, jabbing the truck behind her with her elbow. “This is East’s truck.”
Olivia nods. She knew already that East is allowed to keep a truck, even though all other students are forbidden to have cars at all.
“You should investigate that,” Pippa says. “But we also have to find a way to get back at that Davi bitch.”