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I round the corner, expecting to find two teenagers making out.

Instead, I find three.

Well.

They’re not making out.

That would be considerably easier to deal with.

Evangeline is sobbing.

Randall is standing there with another girl—Skye, one of our juniors—and both of them are brilliant fuchsia.

Not pink.

Not magenta.

Fuchsia.

Aggressively fuchsia.

And Evangeline is using magic to write one word repeatedly across their clothes and exposed skin in enormous black letters.

CHEATER.

Oh, boy.

And those aren't regular markers. They're magic markers.

As in actual magic markers.

Those things take a hell of a lot more than soap and water to remove.

I put my hands on my hips.

“What is going on here?”

All three freeze. Which is ridiculous. It's pretty damn obvious what's going on here.

“Professor Daniels⁠—”

“Nope.”

Randall shuts his mouth.

Whoa.

That felt good.

I point toward the Academy.

“All three of you. Detention.”

“But—”

“Randall.”

He closes his mouth again.