“I’m sorry to pull you from class,” Principal Long begins, and I can tell she means the words. Her lips are pinched tight with displeasure and her brow retains a severe wrinkle with her grimace. “Unfortunately, though, I no longer have a choice. I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Donovan.”
The sounds of my own breathing fill my ears. I can’t tell if I’m really just inhaling and exhaling that loudly or if it’s all in my head, but neither woman in front of me comments. That must mean it’s in my head, right?
“Why was Mr. Calloway here?” I demand.
For a moment, Principal Long’s lips twist into an uncomfortable scowl, but almost as quickly she smooths it out into a professional mask.
“We’ll get to that,” Long says with a wave of her hand. I watch it land on her desk and settle atop a folder. It’s not necessarily the color or shape of the folder that catches my attention as much as it is the name printed on the label that’s been taped to the lip at the upper left-hand corner.Myname.
“Ms. Beck informs me that you’ve been neglecting your sessions with her,” Long says. “I’m afraid that doesn’t look good considering?—”
“Did she tell you she’s been feeding information about me to Morpheus Calloway?” I ask, sending the offending woman another dark glare. “Whoisn’tmy guardian, I might remind you, since I’m eighteen and legally able to care for myself.”
Principal Long stiffens and then directs a disapproving look back at Ms. Beck, whose face flushes. “I-I was merely attempting to get Miss Donovan to open up about her?—”
Long cuts her off with a palm. “I don’t need to hear excuses, Ms. Beck, we can discuss your methods and their appropriateness later. For now, why don’t you step out into the front office and cover for Mrs. Rogers until she gets back from lunch?”
Though the words are phrased as a question, it’s clear Principal Long doesn’t intend for them to be. They’re a command and Ms. Beck knows it. She dips her head and murmurs an agreement, but as she’s passing the corner of the desk nearest me, her chin lifts and the look she sends me is filled with exactly the same thing I gave her earlier—animosity and hatred.
Neither Long nor I speak as Ms. Beck leaves the office, but both of us note when she doesn’t shut the door entirely. With a sigh, Long reaches up and pinches the bridge of her brow.
“I’m sorry, Miss Donovan, do you mind closing the door all the way?”
I’m out of my seat and at the door in an instant, flattening a hand against the wood and shoving it until the click sounds.
“Thank you.”
I don’t offer a response as I take my seat and cross my arms over my chest. “So,” I begin. “What’s this really about?” Now that it’s just the two of us, the anxiety that lingers beneath my skin eases somewhat. Not entirely, but enough that it doesn’t sound like I’m wheezing for breath in my ears.
Long drops her hand back down to her desk and then flips open the folder with my name on it. “Ms. Beck’s unfortunate methods of communicating with students aside, I’ve asked you to come here to discuss her report.”
“Report?” My gaze snaps from her face down to the papers that spill out of the manila-colored file. “You never said there would be a report on me after I went to her.”
Brown eyes flick up to meet mine for a moment. She picks up one of the pages before her. “It’s standard procedure for students who seem to have a hard time adjusting to?—”
“I don’t need to adjust to high school life,” I say, cutting her off. “I’ll be out of here in a few short months.” Hopefully, I’ll be out of Silverwood too.
“Your circumstances are a bit unique and, yes, I understand that because of your age, you are considered a legal adult. The fact remains that you are a student under my care, and I take that very seriously.”
Cory trusts Principal Long, I remind myself, and of all of the supposed adults in my life—Cory was the first one to give a shit about me and give me a chance when everyone else hated my guts. If anything, giving Principal Long the benefit of the doubt shouldn’t be too hard. Yet, the longer I sit in this chair, watchingas she scans page after page, the more my heartbeat thunders against my chest.
“Just say it.” I uncross my arms and lean forward. “What are those papers?” It’s hard to read them upside down, but as my eyes eat up the perfectly printed words, I catch a few words here and there.
…anger management issues…
…hostile behavior…
…authority issues…
…danger to herself and others…
I grit my teeth. What the fuck was that bitch writing about me?
Long drops the papers down and closes the folder again before steepling her fingers over the top of the folder. My gaze lifts back to hers and locks.
“Ms. Beck is worried that you may need more mental health assistance than she’s able to provide you with here at the school.”
“What?” The word bursts from me, unbidden.
