Page 79 of Perfect on Paper

“A locker door.”

“We’ll pay for it,” Mom said. I let out a cry of protest.Thatwas totally unfair. Why should we have to pay for damage I didn’t do? Especially when we were one of the familiesleastable to afford something like that.

“The damage is the least concerning part, at this stage,” Stan said. “Darcy, running a business, apaidbusiness, on school grounds is completely unacceptable for a myriad of reasons. When you are on campus you are representing the school, and theschoolis responsible for all activity taking place within its walls. Had something gone wrong as a result of your advice, advice youchargedfor, the school would be liable. Our reputation would be on the line.”

Fear clenched my chest, squeezing out every trace of breath until all I could do was gasp. Of course I could be held liable if something went wrong. I hadn’t thought of it,because it’d started out as some fun. I’d felt protected by my anonymity. And no one had raised any concerns to me before.

Not that many people had exactly known.

“What are you proposing?” Mom asked in a grim voice. This was her boss she was talking to, I remembered. I was sure she didn’t want to throw me under the bus, but she wasn’t at liberty to scream or swear or say he was being ridiculous. Especially when I was the one in the wrong.

Stan turned his attention to me now. “Darcy, do you have anything to say for yourself? Is there anything I might be unaware of?”

I swallowed thickly, and tipped my head back to try to suck the welling tears back into my head. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help people.”

Stan sighed and clasped his hands together on the desk, on top of a notepad. “Usually, when a student has a record as clean as Darcy’s, we would be willing to let it go with a warning or detention. But not only has Darcy breached multiple rules, she has put the school’s reputation at risk, and has put other students at risk. At this stage we have no choice but to recommend a two-day suspension, effective immediately. Darcy can collect her things. We’ll see her here again on Monday.”

Suspended.

It almost sounded fake to me. Like this was a really bad dream I was about to wake up from. I couldn’t be suspended. I’d never even been called in here to be scolded before. I was always so aware of what the teachers wanted from me, of not embarrassing Mom. Of not being thescholarship kiddragging down the standard.

But no one laughed. No one said, “Actually, no, that’stoo harsh.” Even as the bell sounded to signal a change of period, and Mom walked me out to my locker, I half-expected her to whisper that I needed to just wait in the car while she sorted this out.

But she didn’t. She just stood there, teeth gritted, while I filled my backpack with everything I’d need for the next couple of days at home.

The disappointment radiating off her settled over me like a fog, clouding my brain and blurring my vision. My back burned with the stares of passing students. I could hear their whispers. No one stopped to ask what was wrong, though. Not that I blamed them, with my mom standing in her power stance, arms folded and jaw set.

My bag wasn’t designed to carry this many textbooks. Once I’d loaded it up as much as I could, squeezed in next to my laptop, I was left balancing the rest in my arms. Mom, throwing herself into her drill sergeant role, stormed down the hall without offering to help me carry anything.

The crowd of students parted for us, a Red Sea that only had to take one glance at Mom’s face to dive out of her way. Somewhere in the sea, I caught sight of a familiar head bobbing. Alarmed eyes. Mouth opening, saying words I couldn’t hear over the usual hallway chatter. Shoving and weaving toward me.

Brougham broke through the wall of bodies and came right toward us, undeterred by Mom. “Darcy, hey. What’s going on? What happened?”

The sight of his face, concerned and open, made my heart swell. It was the first time all day someone had looked at me with anything better than disdain. Having someonewho got it, someone who was on my side—and who wasn’t shocked to find out my secret—felt enormous right now.

“Hurry up,” Mom snapped back at me. I picked up my pace, and Brougham fell into step beside me.

“They found out about the locker,” I whispered.

Brougham’s voice was panicky. “Wait, are you in trouble?”

Mom flipped around to stare Brougham down. “Go to class,” she said in a dangerous tone.

“Yup, just a sec, Ms. Morgan.”

“No,now, Alexander.”

You didn’t fuck around with Mom when her voice got like that. It was her “don’t touch the hot stove top” voice, her “how dare you throw a tantrum in the supermarket” voice, her “if you ask me to buy it one more time I’m not going to tell Santa you want it” voice.

And Brougham, bless his heart, Brougham who’d grown up fearing what would come next when his parents raised their voices, froze.

Then, amazingly, he unfroze, broke into a jog, and caught back up with us. “Ms. Morgan, wait. It wasn’t just Darcy. I was involved, too. And you don’t understand, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She washelpingpeople—”

If he followed us for much longer, I wouldn’t put it past Mom to lash out. I touched his arm to cut him off. “There’s no point. Go back to class. I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Go. You’ll make it worse.” I gave him a pleading look, and he slowed, wounded. By that point, we’d reached the entrance, and he couldn’t exactly follow us to the car. So he stayed behind, and I followed Mom out into the sunlight.

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