Page 26 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Trenton’s scowl was smoothing out. “Are you embarrassed? I said I was one too.”

“Because embarrassing things are still embarrassing, that’s why.”

“But we’re friends.”

Hilary was sure with a hundred thousand percent certainty that in Trenton’s mind that phrase was the ultimate argument for everything. “Forget it. I can’t explain it to someone of a different species.”

Chapter Eight

Possessive Ogres

Vice Principal Krinkle was organizing his pens when they knocked at the door. “Can I help you?” And with the way the man said it, the words sounded more like, ‘I wish you weren’t here right now.’

Hilary took a breath. “Mrs. Ermhart sent us to speak to you.”

Krinkle slipped the last pen carefully into its sleeve and let the flap fall closed over them, a doting parent wishing his children goodnight. “Ermhart? You were late then.”

“A little.”

Krinkle reached into his desk and pulled out a second pen roll. “Wait in the hall for a few minutes before going back to class and try not to be late again—for both our sakes.”

Trenton turned to leave, but Hilary caught the boy by the sleeve and said, “Sir, she didn’t send us here because we were late.”

Trenton looked at him, and Hilary knew what the boy was thinking because he was wondering it himself. What the hell was he doing?

Krinkle was irritated into looking up, “What was it then?”

Trenton wasn’t going to say it for him. The boy was looking at him, amused, as if betting internally to see if he’d go for it. Hilary took another breath and unclenched his teeth. “Someone ruined our textbooks.”

“Ruined?”

Trenton’s mouth twitched. The idiot was having the time of his life.

“They…used their body fluids.”

Krinkle didn’t understand but knew enough not to ask. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing. I’m just telling you why we were sent here.”

“I see.”

Krinkle touched one of his pens, a navy blue with silver trim. He seemed to be regretting coming into school that day. Well, he wasn’t the only one.

“Do you know who did it?” the man asked.

“I know the person behind it, though not the particular…donors, in this case.”

Krinkle moved onto the next pen—a chunky fellow and a deep red. “You’re the new boy, right? The one who transferred in this year?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunate. That’s unfortunate.”

Hilary had heard those words before—enough to know what they meant.

“So you’re not going to do anything?” It was Trenton, making a reappearance now that the entertaining part of the confrontation was over.

Krinkle fiddled with the flap on his pen pouch. “Situations like this are delicate. It’s easy to make them worse.”