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“I received a telephone call from Brown University’s Office of College Admission earlier this week concerning your application. Unfortunately, I was informed this morning that the university has decided to withdraw its offer of admission.”

For a moment, I don’t understand what he’s saying.

“What?”

“Brown has rescinded your acceptance, Maxine. You should receive formal notification from the university shortly.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would they do that?”

Principal Hargrove’s eyes dart from me to Milo, then back again, before giving me the explanation I want.

“A serious allegation of academic dishonesty was brought to their attention.”

“What allegation?” Milo asks.

“Someone contacted the university claiming that the short story you submitted as part of your application was plagiarized.”

I blink at him. Then I laugh.

Not because there’s anything remotely funny about what he’s saying, but because it’s so fucking ridiculous I don’t know how else to react.

“That’s impossible. I wrote that story.”

“Maxine—”

“I wrote every single word of it.”

“I’m afraid the evidence suggests otherwise.”

“What evidence?” Milo asks, his tone eerily calm.

Hargrove opens a folder on his desk and removes two sets of papers.

“The university forwarded the allegation to us and requested that we verify certain information. Specifically, whether the work you submitted was your own and whether there had been any previous concerns regarding your academic integrity.”

He places the papers in front of me.

“One of the documents was identified as an assignment submitted by another student in Mr. Collins’s English class sophomore year. I reviewed the school’s records and was able to locate the original submission. It is substantially similar to the story you submitted to Brown.”

I look down at the pages and verify that he’s right. That is my story. One I wrote when I was thirteen. I know because I had to rewrite it from memory.

Only this… this is the original.

There’s only one difference. Someone else’s name is printed across the top. A name that has been redacted for some reason.

“What is happening right now?” I whisper to myself, unable to believe my eyes.

“The wording differs in places,” Hargrove continues, “and your version is certainly more polished and better fleshed out. However, the characters, plot, and several passages are virtually identical.”

“Because someone stole it from me!”

“Maxine, please.”

“No! That’s my story. I wrote it!”

Milo leans forward, taking a closer look at the pages. “Who submitted this one?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose another student’s academic records.”