“Oh. Hi, Headmaster,” I said, looking at Josh.
“Double H?” Josh mouthed, confused. I shrugged.
“I need to see you in my office,” the Headmaster said, his tone making my toes curl and my fingers clench. “Now.”
SHELVED
“If you have to study, you can go,” I told Josh as we hurried up the marble steps inside Hell Hall, which was the not-so-affectionate nickname the students of Easton had for Hull Hall, where all the teachers kept their offices. Behind closed doors, phones rang, keyboards clacked, and muffled conversations were carried on. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Josh said, jogging behind me. “I can spare a few minutes.”
I looked over my shoulder at him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
Just then, someone came around the corner on the stairwell and slammed into my shoulder, hard. Missy Thurber, former Billings Girl and class-A bitch, was coming down the stairs and didn’t even bother to mutter an apology.
“Ow! Don’t worry! I’ll just get out of your way!” I called after her sarcastically.
She paused on the landing below and shot me a serious and silent look of death. One that actually sent a chill through my heart. Then she kept right on walking.
“Wow. What’s her problem?” Josh asked as we started up the steps again.
I cleared my throat, my stomach feeling suddenly queasy. Missy hadn’t spoken to me once in the three months since my birthday, when Mrs. Kane held us all hostage, but it didn’t bother me. Everyone dealt with having their lives endangered in a different way, and it wasn’t as if we’d ever been real friends. But I’d never thought I could feel threatened by her. Until now.
“I don’t know,” I said warily.
Josh and I both paused. We’d just arrived at the top floor and could hear angry voices coming from the back office. From Headmaster Hathaway’s office.
“. . . why you can’t do something about it!”
“Contrary to popular belief, Sawyer, I’m not all-powerful.”
“I don’t even understand why we’re talking about this. This whole thing is completely stupid.”
“Was that Graham?” I whispered to Josh.
He nodded. “And Sawyer.”
We hesitated at the threshold of the outer office—the one usually occupied by Headmaster Hathaway’s assistant. Right now the large, airy waiting area was empty, the computer screen atop the wide oak desk blank, the rolling chair tucked in.
“What should we do?” I asked Josh.
“I say we knock before they find us out here frozen like a couple of eavesdroppers,” he replied.
“Good plan.”
We crossed the room and Josh banged loudly on the door. Instantly the voices fell silent. The door swung open and the Headmaster stood there, his light green tie slightly loosened. He wore no jacket, and his expression was both frazzled and impatient.
“Hello, Miss Brennan,” he said to me. Then his eyes flicked dismissively to Josh. “Mr. Hollis.”
Graham shoved past his father, shot Josh a look that was obviously meant to kill, and kept walking without a word. There was no love lost between Graham and Josh. A couple of years earlier, Josh had dated and broken up with Graham’s twin sister, Jen, who had tragically taken her own life soon afterward. Graham held some kind of grudge against Josh over the whole thing, and from the way Mr. Hathaway was coldly staring Josh down, I wondered if he did too.
“Sawyer, Josh,” Mr. Hathaway said, folding his arms over his chest. “If you would kindly excuse us.”
Sawyer, who had become one of my best friends over the past few months, ducked his head so that his blond hair fell over his eyes, and slipped past his dad. As he walked by me, he mouthed the words, “I tried.” And then he was gone. A skittering sense of foreboding shot right through me.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Josh whispered.
Then he shut the door behind him, and I found myself alone with the headmaster. His office was bright and sunny, the large windows thrown open to let in the fresh spring air. The heavy curtains billowed, then slapped against the molding as the wind died down. Mr. Hathaway gestured at the chair across from his desk, and I sat. He sighed, shoved his hands through his light brown hair, and lowered himself down in the seat across from mine. As he laced his fingers together atop his leather desk blotter, I realized that, for the first time since I’d know him, he looked slightly older than his forty-some-odd years.