And a full week before the contest, he'd posted his inspiration and outline on his social media account.
His contest entry followed that outline to the letter.
The organizers moved fast. They sent people to check every piece of evidence Geoffrey had—the surveillance footage, the social media posts. All of it came back clean. Nothing altered, nothing faked.
And then they said it: I was the one who'd plagiarized Geoffrey Harrington.
My mind went blank.
That story was mine. I wrote every word. How could I have plagiarized it?
But I had no evidence to prove otherwise.
What I couldn't understand was why Geoffrey's contest entry was identical to mine.
Had Clementine shared her material with him too?
The questions kept piling up, and not a single one had an answer I could reach.
For now, though, Clementine and Clara weren't acting any differently than usual.
The only lead I could follow was Geoffrey's social media account.
By my count, he should have already posted the inspiration and outline.
But Clementine and Clara wouldn't leave my side, so I scribbled out a rough outline just to keep them satisfied.
Then I faked a stomachache and said I needed the bathroom.