Page 100 of Eat. Prey. Love.
I can’t help but snort, my breaths coming in puffs of smoke as the dragon within me flares its disdain. The very notion of our girl cheating at school reeks of desperation, but it also reeks of a lack of originality. This is a scheme her ex-best friends tried at Apex—unsuccessfully—and we squashed it like a roachbeforeDolly had Farley and his team on retainer. Only two washed up pretenders would re-use a failed plot to ensnare their prey again.
And I’m looking at them right now.
Rockland chimes in, nodding her head with an eagerness that sends her messy topknot bobbing grotesquely. “Absolutely,” she crows, “as a best selling author, I can spot AI-generated text a mile away. It’s high time we expelled the talentless hacks who resort to such trickery. They make the rest of us brilliant creatives look bad.”
Dolly, cool as the marble floors of this very institution, raises an eyebrow and examines Rockland with a critical eye. “One would think,” she says dryly, “that someone standing here accusing others of theft wouldn’t dare copy the person they are accusing so blatantly. But you’ve never been smart enough to know when to back off, have you, Carina?”
The room falls silent for a heartbeat as realization dawns on all of us. Rockland’s hair, once an unremarkable brunette shade, now sports a colorful array that’s a sad caricature of Dolly’s signature look. We were all so focused on saving our darling bunnythat we didn’t even register the full-on makeover the woman must have given herself since the last time any of us saw her.
It’s almost too ironic to be believed—that woman trying to mimic the style of our whip smart, fashionable mate while she cries about being plagiarized.
Fitz can’t contain himself; his laughter erupts, filling the room like thunder. I join in the mockery, puffing out smoke rings that rise lazily towards the ceiling. Rennie’s lips curl into a sneer, Chess stifles his chuckles behind a hand, and Felix, with a predatory focus, skewers Rockland with his gaze.
“Just because you can legally copy a more talented artist doesn’t make you appear less pathetic than you do right now,” he says, the contempt dripping from each word. “You’re a joke and if you didn’t have duped cult members trailing along behind you, you would have been kicked to the curb long before now, Rockland.”
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness,” Dolly says, unfazed by the spectacle around her. She leans back in her chair, still the picture of poise in her ballet leotard and pointe shoes. “I suppose I should be grateful, but instead, I’m nauseated.”
Rennie nods in approval. “Well quoted,ma petite. Oscar Wilde is always a good choice.”
The administrators and professors bristle, their faces mottled with indignation as they attempt to compose themselves, but the damage is done. The absurdity of the situation is laid bare, and our unity is unshakable. Even Farley’s bruisers are waiting to see what will happen next.
I lean forward, my voice a low growl as I address the room. “You’ve all been duped by nothing more than schoolyard whispers and baseless accusations,” I say, locking eyes with the Headmistress, who recoils ever so slightly under my scrutiny. “Weak preds,” I practically spit out the words, “have conspired to sway your judgment with gossip and innuendo, akin to trolls spewing venom from behind the safety of their screens.”
My dragon bristles beneath the surface, irked by the injustice of it all and I fight to calm him before I continue.
“Fitz,” I nod towards him, “has compiled a comprehensive digital and paper trail. It unequivocally proves that this paper is Dolly’s work. It is original and untainted by any artificial intelligence or theft of ideas. Miss Drew came up with the entire thing and composed it all herself because she had to. As for Amity La Porte? Much like these two grifters, she’s done nothing but ride on the coattails of others’ efforts for a long time. We have proof of that as well.”
Skelly, a hulking shadow of composure, steps up with his own brand of cold confidence. “Our boss is already en route with third-party authentication and techonological experts,” he informs them with a razor-sharp grin. “If you even think of taking action against our client without due process, the consequences will be... severe. Farley doesn’t play games. He’ll sue you into the Stone Age, make no mistake about that.”
There’s a collective intake of breath, and the tension ratchets up a notch. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Fitz clenching his fists, his hunger for retribution barely restrained. The rest of us share a silent agreement; we’re ready for whatever comes next.
“You will let her leave with us and back off,” Skelly demands, and they have no choice but to comply.
Dolly rises gracefully, flanked by our motley crew. “Thank you, gentlemen. As for you, Carina? You can shove your bottom of the bargain bin leftovers and your obsession with me straight up your ass. Once I get free of your stalker shit, I promise you… there will be nowhere you can hide and no one who can save you. You can take that to the bank.”
I grin as she takes my arm, proud of her for standing up to the abusive woman who is trying to control her. “You realize she’ll come for you even harder now, right, little bit?”
Her lips curve up as she winks at me. “Big guy… I’m counting on it. The angrier she is, the more likely she’ll make bigger and bigger mistakes. When she does….”
“That’s when you have her.”
“Yep.”
This skirmish may be over, but the war has just begun.
Troublemaker
I sprawl across the couch,legs kicked up on the armrest, laptop balanced precariously on my knees. The cursor blinks in a taunting rhythm, daring me to find the words that will clear my name. The living room around me buzzes with a tense energy, the air a mix of determination and pizza—the latter courtesy of Chess’ new obsession with creating themed food nights.
As much as I want that cheesy goodness to fix my problems, it can’t.
“Focus, Dolly,” I mutter to myself, squinting at the screen. “You were prepared for this. All you have to do is put everything together to show that bitch she’s wrong.”
The data staresback at me, a digital mosaic of my innocence. There it is, displayed in stark contrast: the vocabulary, the syntax, the soul of my writing plastered on the slides I’m cobbling together. My work has always had a particular flair—a certain snark that software can’t mimic and Amity sure as hell can’t replicate.
Aubrey leans over from his perch on the edge of the coffee table, peering at my laptop with an approving nod. “Nice. Those new plagiarism checker results are gold.” He’d outdone himself, wrangling a program so precise it could probably tell you what brand of caffeine fueled any given all-nighter.
It helps to have friendly colleagues at every university in the world, even the human ones.