“I … ” the other woman trailed off helplessly. I could almost hear her stiffening. “I will handle
Marisol. She’ll be reported. But the boy?” Marisol? Were they talking about Mrs. Crawford?
She’d used a spell on me? She’d provoked me?
Why?
“The children are doing exactly what we need them to be doing,” Illana replied. “Being visible.
Focusing the attention upon themselves. This is crucial to the stratagem.”
“And you’re sure everything else will stop?”
“We’re working on it,” she confirmed.
The next thing I knew one of the secretaries was standing in front of me. And she was repeating something.
“I said, go into the conference room, and they’ll be with you shortly,” she said, raising her voice.
The conference room was not like the rest of the school. It was huge. A large rectangular table set in the center was surrounded by those ritzy-looking office chairs with wheeled legs and plush cushions. Thirty people could easily have sat around the perimeter, with another fifty filling in the sides and corners of the room.
I was still standing there, trying to figure where to sit when I heard the clack of heels behind me.
“Have a seat, Mr. Daggett.”
Illana Bryer stalked around the table, taking a seat in the center, directly across from where I was standing now.
“Or stand if you wish,” she add. “Fantastic impression you’ve made. How proud are you?
Tired of letting your sister take the spotlight?”
Was she trying to be funny? “I know she used magic on me. I heard you.”
“You are no idiot,” Illana confirmed. “But how you could walk into a situation like that and let your guard down is beyond me. The woman drew out every scrap of anger lingering in that sullen little brain of yours, and you didn’t even try to stop her.”
“She was supposed to be my teacher.” I wasn’t making an excuse or defending myself. It was a statement of fact. “It’s not my fault she provoked me.”
“Wasn’t it?” she drawled. “You should have known from the moment you met her that Marisol
Crawford was no friend to you. Do you really think that just because someone is a teacher means they were never a daughter? A friend?”
She was saying Moonset took someone from Mrs. Crawford. Again, not the first time I’ve ever been in that situation. I dropped my head. “I should have been paying more attention,” I admitted. “What happens now?
The door opened behind me, and a woman not quite as old as Illana appeared. Illana stood up, gestured next to her. “Justin Daggett, meet your head principal, Miss Villanova.”
“Not the twin I thought I’d be spending my afternoon with,” Miss Villanova said. “Have you gone over everything already?”
“We’ve only just started,” Illana said.
Miss Villanova didn’t looked like she smiled much. “The school board maintains a low tolerance for violent outbursts, Mr. Daggett. Now, I understand that most schools bend the rules for you and your … family.” Her mouth twisted, just saying the word.
Bending the rules? Had they even read Jenna’s file? The principal continued. “But we set our standards a bit higher. Alternative arrangements will be made for your Independent Study classes. I can’t have my other students put in jeopardy. In the meantime, I think a two-day suspension will give you enough time to reconsider your behavior in my school.”
The room was suddenly frigid. “What?”
“You’re suspended.” Illana didn’t beat around the bush. She was blunt, forceful, and without regret. “Use your time wisely. Learn to pay more attention.”
This couldn’t be happening.
There was a knee-jerk reaction where I was filled with relief that the word she used was
“suspended” not “expulsion.” However, there were much bigger problems with that statement. I wasn’t the one who was supposed to be suspended. I wasn’t the one who got expelled. I was the good twin.
“But you know I was set up,” I said. I had to fix this. Somehow. “She did … something. She wanted me to freak out like that.”
“Which you did,” Illana agreed. “Regardless of how it happened, you still violated school policy.”
The principal cleared her throat. “Your guardian has already been called,” she said to me.
Her expression said everything she wouldn’t say out loud. Disgusted and dismissive. “You can wait out by the secretary.”
I hesitated only long enough for her to snap an additional, “Go!” Then I was up and out of the chair so fast it kept rolling back even as I was turning the doorknob. I waited in the front part of the office.
People came and left, most throwing curious glances my way, but I kept my eyes focused on the ground. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I know what it’s like.”
I looked up to see Luca slouched in front of me. He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, never quite meeting my eyes.
“Know what it’s like?”
“Being put down by people like Maddy. It’s not just you.” For a second, he looked like he wanted to say something else, but the secretary dropped her phone, and the sound bulleted through the office. Luca flinched so hard he probably had whiplash, and scurried for the door.
Five minutes later Quinn showed up, the muscles in his jaw clenched. Five seconds after that, we were leaving.
We made it four blocks before he said anything. The heaters were going full blast, filling the car with warmth and tension.
“This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a joke.”
“I get it,” I responded quietly. “But she used magic on me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Do you have—” he cut himself off, frustration strangling his voice. Despite the obvious tension in the car, Quinn was a model driver. He slowed for school zones, came to complete stops, and let me dwell for whole streets at a time before continuing. “If you don’t want people to connect you with your parents, you can’t lash out like that.”
“She used magic. ” The “it wasn’t my fault” should have been more clear than it was.
“Do you think anyone’s going to tell that part of the story? No, they’re going to remember the son of Sherrod Daggett spewing hate speech and threats. In a week, no one will even remember that the teacher was fired for abusing her power. They’ll say she lost control of her classroom and put the other students in danger.”
“But that’s not what happened!” How was logic failing me all of a sudden? I’d always been the levelheaded one, the one who could cut through the heightened emotions and reach some kind of common ground.
“That’s all anyone will care to remember,” Quinn replied. “It makes a better story than the truth.”
“I should have expected something,” I said after a moment. “I saw the way she looked at me last night.”
“Last night?” Quinn’s voice was suddenly sharp.
“She was there. Outside … y’know,” I waved my hand around, rather than say the words.
“She was glaring at me, like I was something she’d stepped in. Or like she blamed me.”
“But she was in the crowd,” he persisted. “Before you got there? Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“Why would it matter?” I asked as we turned onto our street. “There were a lot of people standing outside last night. You guys interrogated them all, remember?”
“Not all of them,” Quinn murmured. “You’re sure it was her?”
I nodded.
We pulled into the driveway, and Quinn turned off the engine. There was a moment where I thought he was going to confide in me—tell me what was really going on in Carrow Mill. But as usual, the truth was skipped when gruff ignorance would suffice.