I’m sure you can imagine who was always chosen first.
Nice arm, Adler!
For the third time today, I walked into the administration office. “What?” Mrs.Flamporis said when she saw me. “James! Backagain?”
I turned on a grin and held up the memo sheet. “Special delivery from Mr.Henderson.”
She skimmed the message. “You’re such a sweet brother,” she said. “My brother was never this sweet to me in high school.”
“Grace is special,” I said, wanting to barf.
“She so is,” Mrs.Flamporis agreed. “Practically an angel.”
“Yes, practically.”
Because jailbreaking Everett was the definition of angelic behavior.
Why oh why had I shown her Uncle Jeff’s Phillie Phanatic costume?!
“…her signature,” I heard Mrs.Flamporis say.
I blinked. “Uh, what was that?”
“I said this note looks good to me,” she repeated, “but since it’s late notice, you’re going to need Principal Unger’s signature.”
“Oh, of course,” I said, my stomach spinning when Mrs. Flamporis pointed to Unger’s office. I’d known this was coming, but…
I wasn’t too keen on talking to the principal again today.
“I caught her posting a photo to Instagram,” Mrs.Rogerson from FCS was saying as I pulled open the principal’s office door and saw Unger stick a pink Post-it Note on someone’s phone screen. “The caption was ‘#SavingGrace.’ Like all the posters in the hallway.”
Principal Unger sighed. Amazingly, she hadn’t noticed me yet. “Those posters are the reason for most of today’s repossessions.” She turned in her chair, and I watched her unlock the corner filing cabinet to deposit the latest casualty in the bottom drawer. “Grace’s absence has set a new record.”
“Well, she’s a very nice girl,” Mrs.Rogerson offered. “Everyone adores her.”
“Yes…,” Unger started, but then spotted me in the doorway. Her face sharpened. “It is customary toknock,Mr.Barbour.” She arched an eyebrow. “Or did you not know that?”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, an answer that I knew would irritate her to no end. It was one level above a grunt. Mrs.Rogerson obviously felt the tension in the room, because she murmured a goodbye and made herself scarce.
Unger gestured to the uncomfortable armchair across from her desk. “Why are you here?” she asked as I tossed my sweatshirt over the back and sat.
I presented Mr.Henderson’s note with a flourish.
“Fine,” she said two seconds later, signing my permission slip. “Next Friday it is.”
“Great,” I replied once she returned the memo, trying not to stare at the filing cabinet. My phone was so close yet so far. “I’ll give it to Mrs.Flamporis on my way out?”
“Not so fast.” Unger’s tone suggested I settle in for a police interrogation.
Sorry, a light conversation.
Our afternoon tea and crumpets were probably due to arrive any moment.
“You were late coming back from lunch,” Unger said. She folded her hands on top of her desk. “Please explain why.”
Oh, this was going to be good…
“Sadly, I can’t,” I told her. “Because I was not late.”
