Chapter 7 - The Sister
Lauren Collins entered the district office through a side door.
Reporters still found her.
A photograph appeared online before lunch.
She looked nothing like Ms. Collins.
Younger.
Blonde instead of dark-haired.
Rounder face.
But the same tight expression around the mouth.
Dr. Bennett interviewed her for nearly three hours.
Lauren denied inventing the consulting documents.
She said her office manager had prepared them from older material.
The office manager denied that.
Then Lauren changed her account.
She said Melissa had provided verbal curriculum advice that was later documented.
The problem was the checks.
Some were written during months when Summit had no new curriculum project.
One came three days after six Brookfield families enrolled.
Another came the week after four more.
Jacob learned none of this from gossip.
Dr. Bennett shared only information relevant to the families after records became part of the district review.
Nina listened carefully.
Then asked, “Are the payments proportional to referrals?”
“We don’t yet know.”
“Can you calculate it?”
“We are.”
Ava’s father had already tried.
Victor was an accountant.
He arrived at Nina’s apartment Saturday carrying a spreadsheet.
“I know Dr. Bennett told us not to investigate people.”
Nina stared.
“You made a spreadsheet.”
“I made a spreadsheet from documents families voluntarily shared.”
“That sounds like investigating.”
“It sounds like organizing.”
Ava rolled her eyes.
“You’re both impossible.”
Jacob leaned over the table.
Victor had listed enrollment dates and known payments.
The pattern was not perfect.
That mattered.
If every payment had followed every enrollment, the conclusion would have been obvious.
Instead, clusters appeared.
A group of enrollments.
Then a payment.
Another group.
Another payment.
But some payments happened without known Brookfield referrals.
Victor tapped the sheet.
“This does not prove commissions.”
Nina looked disappointed.
“It looks bad.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“It could also reflect legitimate work that happened around the same time.”
Jacob frowned.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The side of arithmetic.”
Ava laughed.
Victor pointed at him.
“Math doesn’t care who we dislike.”
That became one of Jacob’s favorite sentences.
At school, temporary teacher Ms. Patel had taken over Room 214.
On her first day, she placed a stack of essays on her desk.
“Before I return these,” she said, “I want to explain how I graded them.”
Jacob immediately tensed.
She walked through the rubric.
Claim.
Evidence.
Organization.
Grammar.
Then she added:
“If you disagree with a score, you may ask me to explain it.”
No threats.
No embarrassment.
No audience.
Just explanation.
When Jacob received his paper, he saw 86%.
His stomach dropped anyway.
Ms. Patel noticed.
“Question?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Jacob stared at the number.
Then forced himself.
“Why did I get twelve out of twenty for organization?”
“Come here.”
His first instinct was fear.
Still.
He walked to her desk.
She pointed at two paragraphs.
“Your ideas are good, but you repeat this point. If you combine these sections, your argument gets stronger.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re not saying the whole paper is bad?”
“No.”
“Or that I shouldn’t take advanced English?”
Ms. Patel looked at him carefully.
“No. In fact, based on what I’ve seen, I think you should consider it.”
Jacob returned to his seat.
Ava whispered, “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Shut up.”
She smiled.
After class, he stopped beside the trash bin.
It was empty except for a tissue.
He hated that he noticed.
At home, Nina had news.
“Dr. Bennett wants to interview Mia Chen.”
“Ava’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She kept emails from Ms. Collins.”
The next afternoon Mia joined the interview by video from Brookfield High School.
She was sixteen.
Confident.
Nothing like the girl Ava had described from three years earlier.
Mia read one email aloud.
Mia’s current writing profile makes honors coursework unrealistic. Continued placement pressure may harm her confidence.
Another followed after her parents enrolled her at Summit.
I’ve noticed encouraging improvement. If progress continues, I may reconsider my recommendation.
Jacob stared.
“How long between those emails?”
Mia answered.
“Twenty-six days.”
“Did your writing improve that fast?”
“I have no idea.”
“What did you think?”
“That Summit fixed me.”
Her voice changed.
“For years I thought there was something wrong with me before tutoring.”
Ava looked away.
Mia continued.
“Then in high school I had a teacher ask why I kept apologizing before turning in essays.”
Silence.
“I didn’t know.”
She swallowed.
“I just always thought teachers were about to tell me I didn’t belong.”
Jacob felt something tighten in his chest.
He understood that completely.
Then Mia provided the most important email.
It had been sent from Ms. Collins to Lauren Collins three years earlier.
Mia’s mother had been accidentally copied.
The message contained only one sentence:
May you like
Chen family enrolled—told you they’d move once the placement deadline got close.
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