Page 73 of Riot Rules
“Time really is of the essence, Principal. In cases like these, the first few hours are vital.”
She inclines her head, huffing angrily as she leaves the room.
* * *
They do ask for my phone. I tell them that I lost it, which they don’t believe, but there’s nothing they can do about it. They can’t search my room without a warrant. They ask me a never-ending series of questions that range from normal to outrageous:how long have you been friends with Mara? Has Mara ever expressed a desire to kill herself to you? Have you and Mara ever engaged in any kind of sexual relationship?
I answer all of the questions with gritted teeth, anger gradually building inside me as I think more and more about this situation. I’m going to kill Mara when she eventually creeps back to the academy. Because she will. She’ll show up later on tonight with her tail between her legs, and guess what? She’ll simper and pout and come up with some half-baked sob story about why she justhadto run off in the middle of the night, and everyone will feel sorry for her. The police will go home. The Wolf Hall faculty will go around spoon-feeding everyone the same bullshit:we’re justsorelieved she turned up safely. That’s all thatreallymatters.
No one’s going to yell at her for causing all of this trouble. No one will tell her off for all of this panic and confusion. She’ll get away with all of it, and I’ll still be reeling from the anxiety of being grilled so harshly by the cops. This is my worst fucking nightmare. All it will take is one slip of the tongue, onewrongthing that doesn’t correspond to my paperwork coming out of my mouth, and I will be officially fucked.
I miraculously make it through my session with the police without incident, though. When I come out of the dining hall, which the cops sequestered as a temporary interrogation area, there’s Dash, propping up the wall, dressed like he’s about to go to a job interview. Or a funeral. The second he sees me, he beelines for me, running a hand anxiously through his hair. He glances around, checking for god only knows what as he takes me by the arm and leads me away from the press of bodies that have congregated there—students, gossiping and theorizing about what kind of scandalous bullshit Mara could have gotten herself into now. He pulls me away, slightly down the hall, away from prying eyes.
“Fuck,Stella. Christ. What a mess.” He makes sure no one’s looking, and then runs his hands down my arms and cups my face quickly, his eyes skipping over my features one at a time.
“Hey, I’m fine,” I tell him. “I’m okay. Don’t freak out. I’m tired and pissed off, nothurt.”
He acts as though I’m keeping some awful malady from him, though. “Did something happen after I dropped you off last night? The cops came to the house. They said someone was missing and I immediately thought it was you.”
“No. No, nothing happened. Well, wait. I ran into Pax, actually. I was about to go in and he appeared out of nowhere. He saw you kissing me. I tried to talk to him, but he stormed off.”
The worry is plain to see on Dash’s face. He looks like he’s sinking somehow, though he’s still standing straight-backed. He closes his eyes, releasing a strained breath—
“You two took some finding.”
Shit! I step away from Dash, my heart jumping. It’s Fitz, and he does not look happy. He’s wearing a Wu Tang Clan t-shirt and grey sweatpants that make him look so young. Sometimes the twelve-year age gap between him and us feels like a vast eternity. At other times, that gap feels pretty fucking narrow.
“Where’s Wren,” Fitz demands.
Beside me, Dash tenses, his eyes blazing. “Busy.”
“Well, you’d better tell him to pick up his fucking phone. I need to talk to him.”
“Better for you if I don’t. He’s currently being interrogated by the cops becauseyourgirlfriend has gone missing.”
Fitz’s calm exterior slips. For a horrible moment, the fuming, ugly rage that’s simmering beneath it is visible. He opens a hand, like he might reach out and grab hold of Dash by his shirt, but then he stops himself. The hand closes into a fist. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my student. Let’s get that straight right now.” His nostrils flare. “And fine. If Wren can’t talk to me, then you’re gonna have to pass a message on to him for me. He’d better not tell the police that I was at that party last night. You’d better not, either. All you little fucks had better forget you saw me within the walls of that house, or things are gonna start looking really fucking bad for you.” Anyone walking by would see Fitz’s concerned smile and his furrowed brow and assume that the English teacher was merely checking in on the welfare of his students, during a tough and worrying time. Providing they didn’t hear the vitriol in his voice, that is.
“You really think you’ve got anything to leverage against us with a threat like that?” Dash says.
Fitz licks his lips. “Actually, yeah, I do. Are you guys missing anything back at the house per chance?”
“What are you talking about?”
“A little wooden box maybe? With a mandala engraved on the lid?”
I have no clue what the hell Fitz is referring to, Dashiell clearly does; realization dawns on his face “Youmotherfucker,” he hisses.
“Play ball and you’ll be fine. Fail to keep your mouths shut and that thing’s gonna wind up in the hands of the police. And I’m betting that it’s got Riot House DNAallover it. Wren’s DNA in the very least.”
Dash glowers like a burning hot coal. The roles are reversed now; it looks likehe’sgoing to grabFitz. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? I thought you cared about him.”
Fitz lets out a weary sigh. He looks off to the right, flashing a wave and a tight, professional smile at one of the cops standing in front of the dining hall. “I do,” he says under his breath. “But he’s been averybad boy, Dashiell. He deserves to suffer a little for his behavior. He’ll be fine. They can’t pin anything on him. Nothing that’ll stick. Mara’s flighty. It’s hardly surprising that she’s taken off without saying a word to anyone. Wren’ll have to sweat this out for a little while, but it’ll pass. When it’s all over and the heat’s died down, he can apologize to me and things can go back to normal. In the meantime, keep my name out of those police reports. You know what’ll happen if you don’t.”
“There were two hundred people at that party, Fitz,” Dash snaps. “How the fuck are we supposed to make sure no one says anything?”
Fitz shrugs, placing a hand on his shoulder and gives it a hard squeeze. “That isn’t my problem anymore. You’ll figure it out, Lovett. I have every faith in you. You’re a resourceful guy.”
I step forward, blocking Fitz’s path. “If we do this for you, you promise that’ll be it? You’ll leave us all alone? That box will never see the light of day, and you’ll never interfere or bother any of us, ever again?”
