Page 18 of The Moment I Knew

She elbowed me. “You know what I mean. It’s like—” She gestured vaguely down the long, empty hallway. As if on cue, one of the lone ceiling lights flickered dramatically. “Why does it feel like we’re about to get murdered?”

“That’s just because it’s quiet,” I said, even though my own nerves were humming. “And because—say it with me now—you watch too many true crime documentaries.”

She smiled, unrepentant. “Statistically speaking, schools after hours are prime murder locations.”

“There is no way that’s true.”

“You’re not supposed to question my facts if I say them with confidence,” she whined. I laughed and kept looking around. The walls were painted a dull beige that had probably been the same color for decades, scuffed and chipped in places. Bulletin boards were crowded with overlapping flyers—fundraisers, club meetings, tutoring schedules—some curling at the corners, some doodled on with thick black markers. Trophy cases lined one wall, full but unpolished, the plaques scratched from years of hands brushing against them in passing.

“It’s weird being here at night,” I said. “It feels like the place is abandoned or something.”

We passed a row of lockers, dented and uneven, their surfaces marked with old stickers and scratched initials. I trailed my fingers lightly along one as we walked.

“I think I’d lose my mind if our lockers looked like this,” Ainsley said. “Can you imagine our principal seeing that?”

“She’d have an aneurysm.”

Ainsley laughed. “Or assign an essay about respect.”

We passed a set of double doors marked ADMINISTRATION, the hallway beyond them dimmer than the rest. The office lights were on, though—bright white spilling out through the narrow windows in the doors. I barely registered it at first, too focused on the sounds growing louder as we got closer to the gym.

“Oh, thank god, a bathroom,” Ainsley said, immediately traipsing toward the marked door.

“You sure you want to go in there? You know, since schools are allegedly prime murder locations.”

She waved a hand over her shoulder and continued toward the door. “Just come running if you hear me call for help.”

I leaned against the wall as I waited for her. Then a furious voice cut through the quiet. “Do you understand how serious this is, Mr. Mercer?”

I froze automatically, feeling like I’d been the one getting in trouble, even though the voice obviously wasn’t talking to me. My gaze traveled toward the office doors, which were closed, but clearly not soundproof.

“I understand,” a boy’s voice replied. I didn’t need to see him to recognize it—Cole.

“I’m not convinced you do,” the man said. “Because if you did, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation again.”

“It really wasn’t a big deal.”

I looked around the hallway for anywhere else to go, anything else to do besides standing around unintentionally eavesdropping. But besides the single bathroom Ainsley just walked into and the office across the hall, there was nowhere for me to go. I was just… there. The hallway was empty, and the voices carried easily. Still, I felt like I’d crossed some invisible line just by hearing this much.

“You’re skating on thin ice,” the man continued. “You know that. Every teacher in this building knows that. Every administrator.”

“I know,” Cole said. “And I said I wouldn’t do it again.”

“And yet here we are. You want to stay here? You want to graduate? Then you stop giving me reasons to have this conversation. Because I promise you, this is the last one.”

I winced at the severity of his words, a spike of fear running through me as if he were threatening my education. Another pause, longer this time.

“Yes, sir,” Cole drawled, sounding almost bored.

“This is your last warning. Not another write-up, not another meeting. Next time, I won’t have a choice. You don’t get unlimited chances.”

There were some more mumbled words that I didn’t catch. I probably should have taken that moment to run, but before I could, Cole stepped out, one hand already pulling the door closed behind him. His expression was neutral, controlled, but the tension was there if you looked closely—his shoulders stiff, his jaw set like he was holding something back.

His eyes lifted and before I could even consider trying to hide, they landed on me. I froze under their scrutiny. I’d been stupid to think I could blend into the walls. There was nowhere for me to hide—just an open stretch of hallway with one very obvious observer standing there like an idiot. Cole exhaled, long and slow, scrubbing a hand over his face. He leaned back against the wall, head tipping up toward the ceiling like he was counting to ten—or maybe twenty—before he did something he’d regret.

“Wow,” he said. “Prep schools are really branching out with the extracurriculars.”

“Well, I knew you went here, so I figured I’d ask the principal if he needed help. You know, so I can jot down ‘charity work’ for my college application.”