I know she’s trying to protect me, because for Ma’s sake I can’t risk getting caught breaking into the director’s office. But it would be an even worse idea to let William go without me.
“I’m going into her office,” I say.
Salma looks at William and back to me. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she says, misreading the situation as me doing this to get a boy’s approval.
“Yeah, listen to Salma,” chimes in Tiffany. “I mean, just imagine what Mommy—”
“I told you if you kept this shit up you’d have to find another room,” snaps Salma, glowering at our roommate.
We all go quiet, and Tiffany stares at Salma in stunned silence.
“Shhh,” says William, even though no one is making a noise. “Someone is coming.”
A moment later, the main office door opens, and I drop my gaze to the floor, pretending I’m waiting for the phone with the others.
“¡Feliz sábado!” says Mr. Torres as he strolls past. “Any of you interested in joining chess club? Meeting starts now in the dining hall!”
“No, thanks,” says Tiffany.
“I think it’s only Coach and Minaro left in there,” murmurs Trevor once our Spanish teacher is gone.
“There could be others out of view,” says Zach.
“There are not,” says William, with a bit too much certainty.
“I could go inside and ask to speak with Minaro in private,” offers Salma.
“She’d just take you into her office,” says Tiffany, her voice low and sullen. From the way she’s crossing her arms and not making eye contact, it’s clear she’s hurt.
“You could go far from here, like run right now to the library and pretend to be hurt,” Trevor says to Salma. Then he looks at Tiffany. “And you can go into the office and ask Coach and Minaro for help.”
This seems like the kind of plan Sal would be into, but instead she looks concerned. Her hesitation is proof enough that Tiffany is right.
Something is wrong.
“Ican pretend to be hurt,” offers Tiffany, and I get the sense she’s trying to protect Salma—and wants to make amends.
“Why?” asks Salma. “You don’t think I can do it?” It occurs to me that Sal might have heard some of our conversation this morning.
“I’m a better actress,” says Tiffany, and Salma doesn’t argue there.
“The rest of us should hide,” says Trevor. He opens the door nearest to us, peeks inside, then waves for us to follow.
We enter a small storage room with cleaning products and extra supplies like paper towels and toilet paper. Once we’re hidden, Salma dashes to the main office, and I hear one of the doors swinging open.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Salma declares dramatically, her voice carrying down the hall. “Tiffany fe—got hurt! Can you come with me?”
“Lead the way,” I hear Coach’s booming voice say, his footsteps bounding across the floor.
“Are you coming?” I hear Salma asking, presumably to the director, who must be hesitating.
I don’t hear any response, and I hold my breath to listen deeper. Then at last I hear three distinct sets of footsteps marching past our door.
“Come on,” says Trevor, and we all spill out of the room and hurry to the main office. “Lead the way,” he tells William, and it sounds less like a request and more like a command.
The vampire leaps over the low door at the end of the counter. Trevor jumps it, too, but Zach reaches across and unlatches the lock from the other side. Then he holds it open for me.
We follow William to the last office, which features a burnt-gold plaque engraved with the nameDIRECTOR MAXINE S. MINARO.
