“Harper?”
I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Headmaster Dunn talking to me.
“Yes, sir?” I asked, sitting forward in my chair a little bit.
He heaved another one of those sighs, his watery green eyes flicking between me and my parents. “I could have had you arrested, you know.” He tapped the end of the pen up and down on the desk. “Charged you with assault.”
My stomach dropped, and I clenched my suddenly sweaty fingers in my lap. “Yes, sir,” I said, as meekly as I could manage.
“At the very least I could have you expelled.” The pen was tapping faster now, and next to me, I heard both of my parents suck in a breath. When I looked over at Mom, she had her legs tightly crossed, fingers linked over her knees. Like me, she was mostly in white, although her pants were houndstooth.
Headmaster Dunn sat back in his chair. “But since this was extremely uncharacteristic of you, and you were doing it in the service of helping your fellow students, I’m not going to do either of those things.”
I let out such a deep breath that I’m surprised I didn’t sag in my chair. “Ohmygoshthankyou,” I said in a rush and then stood up, reaching across the desk to shake his hand.
Headmaster Dunn flinched back, and Mom tugged at the hem of my skirt. “Sit down, sweetie.”
As I did exactly that, Headmaster Dunn added, “You’re not getting off scot-free, though, young lady. I expect you to dedicate at least a hundred service hours to the school before the end of the year.” His gaze flicked past me and toward the door; he was no doubt picturing the English hall. It was still standing, but the smoke and water damage were bad enough that classes had been moved into the cafeteria for the time being. “Lord knows we’ll have plenty for you to do,” he said on a sigh, and I stood up again, this time not reaching for him.
“Thank you,” I said again. “I promise, nothing like this will happen again, and I’m going to do a totally great job helping out.”
Headmaster Dunn gave a snort and went back to tapping his pen. “We’ll see about that.”
Once we were back in the main office, I turned to both my parents, giving them my best smile. “See? It all worked out.”
Dad shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. He had this way of looking at me where he sort of tucked his chin down and raised his eyes. He’d looked at Leigh-Anne like that, too, and it was always a sign that we were in trouble.
That was clearly still the case now, since his voice was firm when he said, “Just because you managed to avoid expulsion doesn’t mean you’re in the clear with us, young lady.”
Mom reached out, setting her hands on my shoulders. “We’re still worried, sweetheart. You have not been yourself for . . .” She looked up toward the ceiling. “Months, it seems like. And if you’re having panic attacks so severe you assault your principal—”
“It wasn’t assault,” I said quickly. “It was an instinctive reaction so that I could help people.”
Mom was still watching me, a deep crease between her brows, and I gave her my best “I’ve totally got this” smile.
I could tell she wasn’t buying it, though—that crease only got deeper—so I hurried on, adding, “So I should get to class, and I promise we can talk more about this after school. Or after I get back from the pageant sign-ups.”
Mom frowned at that. “Pageant sign-ups?” she repeated, and I nodded.
“Miss Pine Grove. Bee wanted to do it. Anyway, we can talk later, love you!” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, did the same to my dad, and then skedaddled out of that office as quickly as I could, leaving my parents’ shocked expressions and the smell of burned coffee behind me.
• • •
The rest of the day was kind of a blur. The fire had everything all discombobulated, so classes were meeting in different locations. I had English in the gym, and Mrs. Laurent had sent all of us an e-mail that newspaper would now meet in the computer lab near the math hall. I hadn’t seen David all day, and assumed he was avoiding me. That was . . . good. I wasn’t ready to face him, not yet.
But when I got to the temporary newspaper lab and realized he wasn’t there, I got worried. Even if David was lying low between classes and at lunch, he’d never miss newspaper.
Chie and Michael were working on computers in the back, and I tried to keep my voice as casual as I could. “Have either of you seen David?”
Chie shook her head, dark hair swinging around her jaw. “He’s not in school today.” She looked over her shoulder at me, the light from the computer monitor glowing in her eyes. “Did it take you this long to notice your boyfriend’s missing?”
Okay, so David hadn’t told his friends we’d broken up. I hadn’t told mine either, except Bee.
Nodding, I gave a little shrug and backed up from them. “Sure, but I thought he might still show up for this class.”
Neither Chie nor Michael replied, and I went over to one of the empty desks, sitting down with my bag. I had no idea what to do here without David. I usually worked with him, going over articles, suggesting layouts, throwing away any unflattering pictures—yearbooks are forever, and no one deserves to have certain shots preserved for eternity—but without him I felt sort of . . . lost.
And still worried.
Mrs. Laurent was nowhere to be seen, so I pulled out my cell phone and moved to the very back corner of the room. It smelled like dry-erase marker back there, and weird as it seemed, I kind of missed the hot ink smell of the old newspaper lab.
Ducking my head down, I dialed David’s number quickly, and when he picked up after the third ring, I turned to face the wall.
“Pres,” he said, and I closed my eyes for a second, willing myself not to sound all shaky and teary.
“Hi,” I said as brightly as I could manage. “Skipping school today?”
On the other end of the phone, I could hear him blow out a long breath. “Thought it was a good idea, yeah,” he replied. “And I’ve been meaning to spend some extra time with Saylor’s books.”
Frowning, I tried to decide how I felt about that. On the one hand, I was glad he was getting some research done. Saylor had tons of old books, and we’d barely scratched the surface of Oracle/Paladin knowledge. On the other, there was something about the image of him in that house, going through Saylor’s things, that twisted my heart.