In another, Amara stood beside the torn papers while students gathered around her.
A third clip began with Dr. Brooks’s voice identifying herself.
That video spread quickly.
By the time Amara entered the main building, several students had already approached her.
“Are you okay?”
“Did Madison really take your phone?”
“Is the head of school involved?”
“Are you going to lose your fellowship?”
Amara answered politely but briefly.
“I’m okay.”
“The school is reviewing it.”
“I don’t know yet.”
She did not want to become the center of another spectacle.
She walked to her locker, exchanged her books, and headed toward mathematics.
Mr. Larkin was waiting outside the classroom.
“Amara, can I speak with you for a moment?”
She nodded.
He led her to a quiet corner of the corridor.
“I reviewed the photograph you sent me,” he said.
“And?”
“It appears to show a page from an earlier practice assessment, not the examination you took yesterday.”
Amara felt a small wave of relief.
“So it wasn’t the test?”
“Not the current test. It contains similar concepts, but the questions are different.”
“Then why did Madison say it proved I cheated?”
Mr. Larkin looked uncomfortable.
“That’s something we’ll need to establish.”
“Did you find out where the photograph came from?”
“Not yet. The technology department is reviewing the file information and the shared folder where it was circulated.”
Amara nodded.
“Does this mean the accusation is cleared?”
“Not formally. We need to finish the review.”
She understood.
She did not like it, but she understood.
Mr. Larkin continued.
“I also want to discuss your practice assessment. I saw the torn pages.”
Amara’s expression tightened.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I didn’t want to cause trouble.”
“Amara, you did not cause this trouble.”
She looked at him.
He held her gaze.
“I’ve taught at this school for seventeen years. I’ve seen students become so concerned with protecting their reputations that they forget the purpose of learning. You worked hard on that assessment. I’m sorry someone destroyed it.”
Amara’s eyes lowered.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve arranged for you to have a replacement copy of the practice problems. We can also recover some of your notes from the digital archive.”
“That would help.”
“And the fellowship examination will be reviewed by a separate faculty panel. Your work will be assessed on its merits.”
Amara nodded.
Mr. Larkin opened the classroom door.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
She entered.
A few students looked up.
One of them, a quiet boy named Marcus, gave her a small nod.
Amara returned it and took her seat.