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Eden rifled through her oversized shoulder bag and excavated a bottle of Coke, her morning pick-me-up of choice. “Riddle me this, how on earth did Michael steer clear of a name beginning with F?” As she turned the red cap, the soft drink let out a sharp hiss.

“He didn’t.” Georgie left the duotangs in a neat pile on the desk. “It’s Fantine.”

Eden’s eyes bulged. “Like Les Misérables Fantine?”

“The very same, yep.”

“His friends must’ve had a field day with that.”

Georgie rounded her desk and sat down. “The Les Mis correlation went over their heads, but its similarity to Fanta sure didn’t.”

“So, what’d they call him? Poppy? Bubbles?” Eden tossed back a large mouthful of Coke.

“Soft Dink.”

Eden sputtered into the crook of her elbow.

“I know. Sounds funny now, but imagine being a twelve-year-old boy who turns red whenever anything related to sex is mentioned. Even worse, the whole thing started at a hockey tourney—his happy place. And you know kids, one chirp on the ice gets a laugh and then they ALL pile on. Every shift, every time he touched the puck. They were relentless.”

“Poor guy.” Eyes watery, Eden’s words came out croaky, a casualty of the fizzy pop going down the wrong way.

“It didn’t end there,” said Georgie. “Classmates heard and began harassing him in the halls. It got so bad he refused to go to school. That’s when his mum gave in and let him change his name.”

“Why’d he choose Michael?”

“It didn’t stand out.” Georgie bent over and opened her Eaton’s tote bag. She set a stack of marking and a Ziploc plastic bag filled with undeveloped rolls of film on her desk then returned for something else.

“Must be so weird, changing your given name,” said Eden. “It’s like you become a different person.”

“Or the person you were meant to be.” Georgie sat up, bringing a plastic food container with her. “So! These were left over after Thanksgiving dinner. Mum made too many.”

Eden’s face lit up. “Apple pie butter tarts? Georgina Law, you goddess!”

“Not so fast.” Georgie popped a corner for a peek, ensuring they were still intact post-subway commute. “Maybe they’re for someone else.”

Eden’s grin stretched as Georgie snapped the box closed. “Laporte? You’re buttering him up! Finally!”

“I’m teasing.” Georgie offered the tarts to her friend. “He should be so lucky.”

A smile growing, Eden grasped the container and pried it open. She rooted around inside, finding the biggest tart to feast upon. Her prize in hand, she left the box on Georgie’s desk beside her open Filofax and a pack of Laurentian pencil crayons, scampering over to the classroom door and closing it to any prying ears.

“You know, I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out the why in all this. Why Vimy? Why Houdini? Why now?” Eden approached Georgie’s desk again and perched on the edge. “I mean, payback for a whole lotta ass-kissing only goes so far, and it’s not like Brian was actively campaigning for the France trip.” She licked cinnamon and brown sugar off her finger. “Then it came to me: Laporte is scared shitless of arguing with dudes.”

The corners of Georgie’s lips twitched. “Oh-kay. Where’d you get that from?”

“He has no problem arguing with us, right? Does it all the time. But if it’s a guy, he’ll do anything to avoid it. He’s a total wuss. And that’s why Vimy went to Brian.”

“Bri does have a nasty temper,” said Georgie. “But I doubt he would’ve picked a fight with Laporte if he didn’t get the trip.”

“No, but he will if he doesn’t get the promotion.” Eden angled closer like she couldn’t wait to spill. “Don’t you see, Georgie? Laporte gave Brian the trip so he’ll be overseas next spring when you’re named head of the history department. His meltdown will be out of sight, out of mind, and most importantly, out of Laporte’s office.” She let out a laugh. “I hate to say it, but it’s a genius move when you think about it.”

As Eden took a huge bite of her tart, Georgie’s narrowing gaze veered toward the autumnal reds and oranges frolicking in the wind outside her classroom’s windows. Genius was one word she’d never associate with their principal. Haughty? For sure. Humourless? Always. But genius? Coming from anyone else, Georgie would’ve brushed aside the compliment as misguided nonsense, but Eden was a friend and confidant she’d long respected and trusted.

Clearly, Eden had put a lot of thought into her theory, and Georgie appreciated its premise: the Vimy decision wasn’t a snub, but a way for Laporte to lay the groundwork for her promotion while escaping any fallout. She bit down on her bottom lip, muting an emerging smile.

However, by the same token, if Eden’s hunch was right, it also proved that Laporte was more of a schemer than Georgie had previously thought. Whether that was a good or bad thing, who knew?

She met Eden’s expectant gape. “Nice work, Sherlock.”