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“There’s nothing to come clean about,” I insist, my cheeks heating. “I didn’t cheat.”
“All right.” Mr. Osterhaut nods, but I know he doesn’t believe me. “Well, Mr. Arndt will be keeping a close eye on your future assignments and exams. And if you decide you have anything you’d like to add to this conversation, you can speak to him or me anytime. If our investigation turns anything up, we’ll have to contact your parents.”
“My mom,” I correct.
“Yes. Well.” He leans back. “Thank you for speaking to us. And just so you’re aware, Ms. Thomas, we have a zero tolerance policy for cheating here. So bear that in mind going forward.”
I blink then shift my gaze over to Mr. Arndt. His expression is carefully neutral. I know he thinks I’m guilty too, but he doesn’t want to make it obvious. He likes me, or at least he used to, so hopefully he’s not going to assume every other project I do is a cheat from now on.
But I don’t understand how this happened in the first place. I’ve never cheated on schoolwork. I’ve never really had to. I’m smart, and I work hard enough to pull the kind of grades I can live with without having to do anything underhanded.
“Yeah, thanks. I will,” I mumble, then grab my backpack and slip out of the room.
I’m late to Calculus, but Ms. Becker doesn’t comment on it. She must’ve gotten whatever message Mr. Arndt sent her. That class and History pass in a blur as I stare at my desk, trying to figure out how I could’ve done so well on a test I didn’t study enough for. To my mind, it’s still possible I just got lucky as hell with my guesses, but neither the principal nor my teacher seem convinced of that.
My stomach is in a tight knot by the time I walk down the front steps of the school just after three p.m., and I feel a little sick.
“Congrats on your perfect score,” a sickly sweet voice croons from my left, and I glance over to see Savannah smiling at me. She’s leaning against a low brick wall that edges the sidewalk on this side of the school, and her face set in a smug mask.
Oh my fucking God.
Of course.
I didn’t cheat on the test, but someone did—on my behalf. Probably knowing exactly what would happen when the scores were calculated. She’s been pissed as shit at me ever since she caught Trent hitting on me, so instead of sabotaging my test, she made sure I did too well. Which is worse. I could’ve handled a bad grade, but this could get me kicked out of the entire school.
Stopping in my tracks, I turn to face her slowly. She doesn’t have her usual backup of Iris and the other cheerleaders with her—maybe she and Iris are on the outs again this week. Whatever the reason, I’m glad she’s alone.
Because I’m about to kick her ass.
I’ve never gotten in a fistfight before. I’m not really a violent person. But after all the weird shit that’s happened in the past few weeks, the exhaustion of maintaining constant vigilance, the mindfucks and the games, I’m just about ready to crack. There’s an energy pent up inside me like liquid lightning, and it just wants to unleash on someone.
Might as well be this bitch.
“I knew they’d figure out it was a cheat if you did well in your business class.” She smirks. “My friend Megan is in that class, and she says you never know the right answer when Mr. Arndt calls on you. Why am I not surpri—”
The end of the word turns into a high-pitched shriek as my fist connects with the side of her face. I didn’t get a great wind-up, so it wasn’t the world’s hardest punch. But Savannah isn’t the world’s toughest cookie either. Her head whips sideways, one hand flying up to clamp over her cheek. She uses her other to brace against the wall, keeping herself from going to the ground as she stumbles.
Then she rights herself, blinking fast as she stares at me. “You—you—”
I don’t give her time to think of the perfect insult, dropping my backpack to the sidewalk before swinging at her again. She throws her arms up and manages to block my punch, but I hook my leg behind hers and push, bringing us both to the ground. I end up on top and use the position to yank on her bright red hair—hard. She shrieks, batting at my face with her claw-like nails.
Sounds pour into my ears from around us as we fight, and I’m vaguely aware we’ve drawn a crowd that’s whistling and yelling, but I don’t really care. At least, I don’t until a large pair of hands lands on my shoulders and hauls me away from the shrieking cheerleader. I stumble to my feet and look up into Mr. Arndt’s angry face.
“Ms. Thomas.” His lips press into a line. “Shall we go back to see Mr. Osterhaut—again?”
Savannah and I are both hauled into the principal’s office. She’s got a split lip, and her hair is a mess. She cries a lot, and there are several witnesses who can confirm I threw the first punch. I tell Osterhaut she basically admitted to tampering with the test, but he doesn’t really listen or care.
So I get detention and Savannah gets sent home.
I’ll have to stay after school every day for the next two weeks, starting today. And they’re calling my mother to report what happened.
Fucking great.
I stomp down the hall, accompanied by Mr. Arndt—who’s probably wishing he was home sipping a nice cold beer or something right now instead of escorting a surly teenager to her punishment.
He drops me off at the large room, and the teacher’s aid checks me in.
When I turn to find a seat, I hesitate for a second. River is sitting at a desk in the back row, watching me with a surprised look on his face. I’m not sure why—it’s not like we’re friends or anything—but I head toward the back and take the seat one over from his.
