Carrod smirks at me from the next table along, sending another warning bell ringing.
I take my seat, listening to the low buzz of concern from the other students. A much louder buzz of curiosity atop it. In the end, four security cars are parked by the entrance and there are too many officers inside to keep track of them.
Sniffer dogs gambol along the corridors, running their talented noses along every surface, inhaling the scents and giving indications from every open door.
Andallthe doors are open. They’re being far more thorough than I expected.
When I arranged for the tipoff to be called in, I never imaginedthere’d be this level of response. I thought maybe an officer would drop in near end of shift to follow up on the call. At the most, two.
Certainly not the overkill unfurling before our eyes. I’m halfway convinced the head is about to call in the actual police instead of her private units.
Carrod keeps giving me self-satisfied grins until I want to punch his face in. I want George beside me, not only because she seems to know more about this situation than she should ever have been exposed to but because I enjoy holding her hand. I like feeling her presence next to me.
If I was the sort of sappy halfwit that those sentiments applied to, I might be mistaken for thinking I loved her. That whatever pull we’ve exerted on each other since the first night has taken root and blossomed.
There’s a flurry of movement from the east corridor and, like every other student within earshot, I follow that progress with interest. Not least because it’s on the opposite side of the school to where Carrod boards.
Perhaps they’ve found something besides what I’ve planted. Some unlucky student getting caught up in Carrod’s trap.
A more sensible part of me understands something went on while I wasn’t here. Something that changed the course of what should have been a simple drug arrest for possession and supply.
Something that left George feeling crap about herself and puffed Carrod up into the grinning shit two tables away from me.
An officer comes into the cafeteria, walking straight over to the head teacher and talking in a voice pitched too soft to hear.
“Kari Abercrombie?” the head teacher calls.
I sit up straighter in my chair, half the room following suit, so we look like meercats called to attention. From the corner of myeye, I track George. She doesn’t look surprised. Her chin dips to her chest, her hands pressing hard on her knees like she’s trying to hide the shakes.
Guilty.
I hold a sneaking pride that my plans exploded and rather than falling apart or letting the blame land on either of us, she took care of things. A trait that always comes in handy in my world.
Kari frowns but follows them out of the room. They go into the student housing office, across the lobby. Not the best choice of meeting room, given the glass walls expose everything. Not that Kari’s poise gives anything away.
Seeming to realise the mistake, a guard closes the door to the cafeteria instead, curtailing our nosiness.
Carrod smirks until I’d love to punch him out but doing that in front of the security guard stationed at the cafeteria door is dicey, even with my connections.
Now they’ve discovered whatever they needed to, the excess vehicles depart onto more fruitful endeavours, leaving just the one car and two security officers behind.
“Excuse me, sir,” Issy calls out from the next table over. “If they’ve arrested whoever, can we go on to our lessons?”
Anton snorts out a laugh then tries to disguise it as a cough. Issy has never attended a class in her life that she didn’t immediately try to get out of. The idea she would prefer that to sitting and watching a fellow student go down in flames stretches credulity.
I presume she’s covering for her friend. An attempt to draw our attention from the pupil in our midst who’s being questioned. Trying to forestall the gossip as though it won’t already be flying around the school.
They might have contained us in the cafeteria, but no brightspark thought to take our phones away. The rumour mill will already be churning content across the internet.
My head’s still spinning but I can work with this new narrative. It might even be better than my original plan.
If Kari gets expelled, then I won’t be constantly looking over my shoulder. Soren’s likely to keep her on a tight leash, not willing to draw criticism to his family name. She’ll be tucked away, out of sight. My father might even come to his senses and give up the ridiculous matchmaking and draw up a fucking business contract instead.
Not likely, but possible.
The future suddenly looks brighter. Not least because I told George the worst thing I’d ever done, and she didn’t run from me.
A security guard moves out of the room, and there’s a short, tense conversation, then I turn to look through the window as a car screeches to a halt outside, a man jumping from the rear seat the second it comes to a complete stop, striding towards the building with a face like thunder.
