Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
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.