A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,34

muscles in his jaw flex as though he were grinding his teeth to dust. She also noticed how his jaw looked when it flexed. Like a movie star’s, all strong and masculine and—

“Are you okay?”

She hesitated before answering with a surprised, “Yes. Thank you.”

After giving her one last inspection, he turned and strode off. Like she meant nothing to him. Probably because she didn’t.

She bent down to gather her effects when another thought hit her. She bolted upright and turned full circle to take in the last of the students headed to lunch.

While she’d only met Sybil recently, surely she had some friends who’d known her longer. Maybe even a best friend. One who would know if someone had been following her or sending her messages or, worse, threatening her.

Auri needed to interview Sybil’s friends. And she could do something silly and unproductive like ask around willy-nilly, hoping to stumble into one of them, or she could narrow down her search tenfold.

She looked toward the guidance counselor’s office, where a student aide readied himself for his turn at the helm, and she formed a plan. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she contemplated her fate should she fail. Should her mom find out.

What would happen if her mom discovered she broke into a guidance counselor’s office to steal another student’s file? She could check Sybil’s schedule. Go to her classes. Find out who her friends were. Surely, she’d made friends in her classes. And who knows? A concerned teacher could’ve made notes about Sybil. Who she hung out with. Who she ate lunch with.

So, what would happen if her mom found out? Auri would lose her life. Plain and simple. Her mother would seek the death penalty. Of course, there were always worse alternatives. She could lose her phone.

She dropped her gaze to the square piece of plastic in her hands, her wellspring of knowledge and art and communication. The magical instrument around which all life revolved. She could lose it for the next thirty years.

Then again, she pretty much had her mom wrapped around her little finger. If she did lose it, surely it wouldn’t take long to win back her mom’s favor and her precious phone. Thirty years? Pshaw. She could do it in twelve.

A tiny smile tugged at her mouth as she sized up the student who’d pulled the short straw and got the lunch shift. Twelve years? It’d be worth it.

And that was how Auri Vicram found herself in the principal’s office.

All things considered, she couldn’t be that upset about her situation. Not when two male teachers escorted two boys into the office, the first boy wearing jeans and a green army jacket, the second wearing a Seattle Seahawks hoodie and a sheepish expression.

Stunned, Auri turned to Cruz De los Santos. Even with his chin lowered in obstinance, the surprise on his face when he saw her sitting in the principal’s office was almost comical, though probably no more than the surprise on her own. Had he gone after the boy who’d run her down? Had he hit him?

Mr. Jacobs had been talking softly to Corrine. He finished and gave Auri his complete attention, something she’d never craved.

“I’m calling your mom this time,” he said to her, almost sadly.

Auri felt the color drain from her face. Of course, he would call her mom. As far as he was concerned, she’d been stealing ACT scores or social security numbers or nuclear launch codes. She couldn’t believe he’d caught her so red-handed. She totally needed to sharpen her criminal mind.

“And I’d call your dad,” he said to Cruz, “but I’m not sure I can trust you to give him the whole story.”

What did that mean? Cruz lifted a shoulder as though baffled himself.

The kid in the Seahawks jersey spoke up. “We were just talking,” he said before giving Cruz an apologetic sideways glance.

“What? Between shoves?”

“It was just a misunderstanding.” The kid looked at her. “I didn’t mean to run you down like that. It’s just, it’s pizza day.”

Auri was partly amused by his honesty and partly stunned. Cruz had shoved him on her account? Her emotions volleyed between elation and horror.

“Yeah, well, Mr. De los Santos seems to have a lot of misunderstandings.” He crooked his finger, and the Seahawks fan followed him into his office.

Auri pretended to study her shoes. Instead, she studied Cruz’s. He wore a ragged pair of Adidas that used to be white. The strings were frayed, the glue around the soles worn