Page 19 of I Hope This Doesn't Find
“Seriously, Julius,” I say through clenched teeth, lifting my hand, “if you don’t stop talking, I’ll—”
“Hit me?” His smile sharpens, as though in challenge. It’s a smile that saysyou wouldn’t dare. “Choke me, the way you fantasized about in your email?”
Immediately, my skin goes so hot I wouldn’t be surprised if you could see steam rising from my body. “Are you ever going to let it go?”
“No,” he says, decisive. “Not until we’re even.”
“What do I have to do, then?” I demand. “For us to be even?”
He stops, his black eyes raking my face. I force myself to meet his gaze, even though everything in me wants to run away. “I’ll let you know how you can make it up to me,” he says, letting the words simmer in the space between us, stretching out the threat. “But first, I have to see how bad the damage is.”
A spike of pure, cold dread runs through me when I realize we’ve reached the principal’s office. Even though it’s in the same building, it feels like a completely separate space. The paint on the walls is newer, the windows wider, the plaque that readsPRINCIPAL MILLERpolished gold. The single door to his office is made of tinted glass, the kind that serves as a one-sided mirror. I imagine Principal Miller staring at us from his desk, watching me as I wipe my sweaty hands on my skirt. The thought only makes my palms clammier.
Julius stares down at the doorknob, but makes no movement.
“Why aren’t you going in?” I ask.
“Why can’t you go in first?” He says it coolly, as if I’m the one who’s being ridiculous, but there’s a wariness to his expression. His eyes keep sliding to the door like it might open up the gates of hell.
He’s nervous, I realize. I would take much greater delight in this discovery if I didn’t feel like throwing up my breakfast all over the white rug at my feet.
“Just go in,” I urge him.
He doesn’t budge. “You go.”
“What are you so scared of?”
“I’m not scared,” he says, actively backing away from the door now. “I just don’t want to be the first to step inside.”
I make a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh. “This is so childish—”
“You’rebeing childish. I’m being chivalrous.”
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes so far I can almost see the back of my skull. “Because you’re such a gentleman.”
“I am.”
“Open the door, Julius.”
“No,you—”
“Come in,” a gravelly voice calls from inside.
I startle, my pulse skyrocketing. It takes me a moment to recover, another moment to shove the door open on my own, cursing Julius silently in my head.
Principal Miller is reclining back in his leather seat, spinning a ballpoint pen with one hand, holding a takeaway coffee cup in the other. The whole office smells like coffee. The reading lamp beside him is a pale, clinical white that reminds me of hospital waiting rooms, the light glancing off his bald head.
“Hi, Principal Miller,” I manage, trying to read his expression. It’s pointless, like trying to find a pattern in a blank wall. His dark eyes are devoid of emotion, the space between his thick brows smooth. “You . . . You asked for us?”
In response, he merely gestures to the two seats across the desk from him.
The chair is still warm when I sit down, and I can’t help thinking about the last person who was in here. Maybe they were expelled, or given detention, or maybe they were being congratulated on coming in first place in a national equestrian competition or finding a cure for eczema. That’s the thing about being called by the principal—you know it’s either really good news or really bad news.
Julius takes his place on my left, his spine rigid.
“I know you’re both meant to be in class right now, so I’ll cut to the chase,” Principal Miller begins, setting his pen down. “It has come to my attention that a series of rather . . . aggressively worded emails have been circulating around the school. Is that correct?”
My mouth is too dry for me to speak. I can only nod.
