I smile wearily and eat another cookie.“You don’t say.”
She’s still looking up into my face and comes a little closer, and oh, God, my body responds.I forget to chew.
She smells nice.Like a flower.
Oh, crap, Fantino.Since when have I been thinking about how Olive Garden smells?I don’t give a damn how she smells.And I don’t even like the scent of flowers all that much anyway.It’s OK, no more.God.
“Andthe goddamn school doctoris my dad,” she says, before she walks away.“You’ll find him in the sick bay on the ground floor, first door on the right, after the trophy cabinets.Say hi to him from me.”
He really is Olive Garden’s dad.I spot his dark green eyes right away, which are just like hers.But there’s a lot less hatred in his expression, which makes a pleasant change.
I’ve met a lot of doctors in my life, so I can generally tell within a few seconds if they’ve got it or not.I don’t mean if they know what they’re doing, but whether or not their work’s turned them into the kind of soulless robot who just reels off standard questions, hammers on their computer keyboard, and never looks me in the eye.
Olive Garden’s father makes time for me, and he’s done his research.He knows my insulin regime and introduces me to the school nurse, who, unlike him, seems to be here around the clock.I hate to admit it, but I feel good around him.Which is obviously nothing to do with whose father he is.
And even that’s kind of ridiculous.The school doctor is display-case girl’s dad, and the head teacher is my clown of a roommate’s mom.What next?Should I call Ava Fantino and ask her if she wants a job here too?
Study hour still isn’t over as I stroll through the empty corridors toward the south wing after my appointment with Dr.Henderson.After what I said to Olive Garden, I don’t want to risk missing Mrs.Sinclair.I don’t know how late she stays at the school, so I pick up the pace a bit.It’s been fun to threaten OliveGarden with putting the blame for the display-case thing on her, but I know when it’s time to back down.She looked seriously stressed just now, so that’s enough.
When I get to the offices, I ignore the school secretary who tries to stop me interrupting Mrs.Sinclair, and I knock on her door instead of letting him schedule a meeting.
She looks up from her desk when I walk in, and I can see the resemblance to her son.“Colin,” she says, like she deserves a medal for remembering my name.“What can I do for you?”
“It was me,” I say as I come closer and sit down without waiting to be asked, because I have no respect.I can see from Mrs.Sinclair’s face that she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, so I kindly help her out a bit.“The display case.”
She doesn’t look all that surprised, which ought to make me think.“You are responsible for the damage to the swimming-team display case?”she says, looking intently at me.
“Yes, I am.”
She stands up, which is probably meant to be intimidating.I lean back slightly and enjoy the show.
“I’m disappointed that you’re getting your time at Dunbridge Academy off to this kind of start, Colin.”
Oh, God, the I’m-not-angry-I’m-disappointed shtick.This woman is a teacher to her bones.
I shrug.“And it happened after wing time.”
Mrs.Sinclair reaches for an expensive-looking leather bag.When I realize she’s starting to pack away her things, I feel nervous.What’s going on here?Why isn’t she giving me a lecture?She isn’t letting me provoke her, and that unsettles me.
“For the next four weeks, you can spend an hour a day helping Mr.Carpenter, our school caretaker,” she says, not looking at me.“And that’s on top of your other duties.”
“No warning?”I ask in disappointment.
“No, Colin.”Now she does look at me.“I’m not giving you a formal warning, but if you continue to break the rules, you can expect further additional work, curfews, and the confiscation of your technological devices.”
“Why don’t you just kick me out?”
“Your mother warned me that you would try to get yourself expelled.So instead of wasting your time and energy on the attempt, you’d be better off making the most of the opportunities that this school offers.”
I feel a deeper chill at her every word.
Mom warned her.She knows me well enough that she persuaded her not to throw me out.She knew I’d have a plan.
“I’ll ask Mr.Carpenter tomorrow whether you turned up.If not, Mr.Acevedo will confiscate your mobile phone.”
“But my phone is my glucose meter,” I point out.
“Dr.Henderson will happily issue you with an analogue meter that works just as well.”Mrs.Sinclair walks past me to take her coat from a hook by the door and put it on.“Think carefully about your actions, Colin.And now please go back to your room for the rest of study hour.”
