either side. Just like moths to a flame, the two of them flock to gossip.
“What did you do?” they both ask.
“I don’t know,” I lie, and when I get the stares, I realize they’re not buying it.
“Seriously?” Rory’s eyes pin mine as we come to a halt. I see Alex hovering next to him, sending me the same look.
“Yeah, seriously.” I try to sound convincing, but apparently that fails.
“Uhhh, just a tip, Dani. You might want to work on the whole lying bit before you go into that office,” Rory says with a pinch of sass, which is odd because he’s usually so manly. Alex bobs her head right next to his agreeing with the statement.
“Should we work out an escape plan if things get heated in there?” Alex jokes.
“I’m not even sure this is a bad thing, guys. I don’t know why I was called in…seriously.”
“There you go. You’ve already gotten better at lying. Let’s go with that,” Rory chuckles. I just roll my eyes and reach for the office door handle. They both begin to hum the Funeral March as I enter the office, and I can’t help but laugh a little. Those two always keep me so entertained.
The moment I come to stand in the front office, my serious face returns. I’m met with the head receptionist pointing to the principal’s office door down the hall. The look she sends my way leaves me frightened. She’s like the judge before the executioner, and her face tells me I’m about to be guillotined.
My feet feel like they’re encased in concrete as I slog toward the big red door at the end of the hallway. Well, technically it’s brown, but in my head right now it’s a deep, dark red—for obvious bad reasons. The video of Parker and me streams in my head, and I can’t shake it. The thought of having to talk about it with someone other than Parker just makes me want to vomit nervousness all over this hall. That was such a private moment, and it could turn into the death of us.
My hand shakes as I reach for the handle of the red (actually brown) door. As I begin to turn it, my hand stops, and for some reason, won’t finish what it started. The door flies open and I let out a gasp. I should have let out more, because the sight behind the door is enough to make me keel over. Not only is Mr. Clarkson sitting behind his desk with arms crossed and everything, but standing next to him is my father, also with his arms crossed.
This is it. This is how I’m going to die—right here standing in front of me. I’m so distracted by the intimidating presences before me that I don’t even notice that Deputy Samson was the one who opened the door. I really don’t like that guy, and something tells me by the look on his face that the feeling’s mutual.
“Dani, please take a seat,” Mr. Clarkson says as I enter the room.
“Where to?” I ask, trying to make a poor pass at humor. Sometimes stupid jokes just pour out of me when I’m nervous. I shudder when not even the slightest bit of a smile appears on any of their faces. I’m totally and utterly dead.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mr. Clarkson states to my dad as he stands up, sends me an eyebrow raise, and passes by me out of the office.
I hear me father let out a low grumble as he hikes up his utility belt and takes a seat in front of me. He doesn’t say anything to me—not even a “How are you?” Nothing. Actually, he’s having a hard time even looking me in the eyes right now, and this causes my nerves to jump into overdrive.
Deputy Samson directs me to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. He tries to touch me, but I pull away from his grimy hands. Like I said, I really don’t like him. I drop down into the chair and scoot it closer to the desk, waiting for my dad to say anything, but instead he just lets out another growl as he digs into his pants pocket.
He tosses a little plastic bag on to the desk right in front of me. It appears to have something in it. A folded piece of paper slides behind it quickly after.
“Read it,” are his first words since I entered the room.
My hand