“I’ll be handing these back tomorrow, but I noticed some… discrepancies with yours. I need you to come with me to Mr. Osterhaut’s office.”
The air seems to go out of the room.
Shit.
Shit.
That’s what Savannah’s falsely sweet taunt was about. She was fucking with me. She didn’t sabotage my Business and Econ quiz—she picked a new class.
And that makes me look guilty as hell.
I can’t get my mouth to open, can’t form words to answer Mr. Heller, but he doesn’t wait for me to respond, stepping forward with my graded test in his hands and gesturing me toward the door. He leads me down the steps to the admin wing, and my legs feel numb as I follow him.
How many times can I fucking do this? I already begged the principal for a second and third chance. He won’t give me another, I know it.
Mr. Osterhaut looks up as we enter, his face pinching when he registers who it is. And I’m positive in that moment he already knows what this is about, and he’s already determined I’m guilty.
I don’t know what to say. Last time, I started blurting out declarations of innocence as soon as I sat down, but it hardly helped my case. And I don’t know how to convince him I didn’t fucking do this.
Mr. Heller hands over my test—one of the biggest we had all semester—to the principal, explaining how my exam was clearly doctored.
Mr. Osterhaut glances over the papers, shakes his head, then sets the packet down and interlaces his fingers. His expression settles into a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Harlow, I thought when you promised not to cheat again, you understood that applied to all of your classes, not just Business and Economics. To say I’m disappointed is an understatement.”
Jesus, no. This can’t be fucking happening.
“I’ve given you allowances and second chances—more than are usually granted in these types of situations, because I know you’ve been going through a lot.” He leans forward, his expression softening somewhat, like he’s going to try to convince me this is all for my own good. “But when people who act out continually get away with bad behavior, it sets an unacceptable precedent for me, for the school, and for them. I simply cannot allow it.”
“So, what?” My voice is harsh, thick with angry tears that haven’t fallen yet. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that effective immediately, you are expelled from Linwood Academy, Ms. Thomas.”
The words hit me like a punch to the solar plexus, and the tears I’ve been holding back pour out of my eyes. I hate crying in front of people—I’ve never been the type to use tears to get out of traffic tickets or make people feel sorry for me. But I can’t keep them contained right now.
I don’t say anything, hardly make a single noise as the world blurs in front of me. When I glance over at Mr. Heller, he looks awkward and uncomfortable, like he really wishes he didn’t have to be here for this part.
Mr. Osterhaut’s face is carefully blank, as if he doesn’t want to be accused later of being either too cruel or too kind.
“You may collect your things from your locker. We’ll notify your mother in writing.”
My mom. Oh fuck, my mom.
At least they can’t call the prison to tell her. It’ll take them a few days to send her the notice, and by that time, I’ll have told her myself. She deserves to hear it from me.
I don’t know what else to say. I want to drag the principal down the hall and find Savannah, to put him face-to-face with her
and make her fucking admit what she did. But she won’t. All that will do is give her a front-row seat to my expulsion.
Mr. Osterhaut says something else, but I barely hear the words. The second he dismisses me, I grab my backpack with numb hands and bolt for the door, still half-blinded by tears. I’m charging down the hallway with the vague idea that I have to get to my locker when a voice stops me.
“Low?”
It’s Dax.
I turn to see him and Chase striding toward me, twin looks of concern on their faces. The sight of them snaps the last bit of manic energy that was keeping me going, and I start to shake all over. My legs feel like they’re about to give out, and I just want to get off this fucked up ride before the people I love get hurt any worse.
“Jesus.” Dax’s voice drops to a low growl, and the next thing I know, he and Chase are at my sides, their hands gripping and supporting me. “What the fuck happened? Is it your mom? Did Mr. Black—”
“Dude. Not here.”