As Lucy hurried to the principal’s office the next morning, she had no clue what he might want with her. She’d never received a summons before.
She had only come into school at all to sort out the last of the colored gels for the spotlights. If she were being hunted by assassin alchemists, she would at least make sure Claudia’s speakeasy was illuminated in living color before she took the long dirt nap.
Sheesh. Her bestie’s mobster talk was rubbing off on her.
Lucy’s palm was slick on the doorknob. Why was she so uneasy? She hadn’t done anything wrong. A small green flame appeared where her skin made contact with the brass. Crap. She concentrated on steadying her breathing and willed her nerves away.
Mrs. White, Principal Petersen’s secretary, didn’t smile at Lucy as she entered. She was an older woman, late sixties, known for her seasonal collection of brooches. Today’s was an enamel cherry blossom.
“He’s waiting for you,” Mrs. White said, her voice nasal and disapproving, and pointed a finger toward an inner door branded PRINCIPAL GEOFFREY PETERSEN in black letters.
“Um, thanks.” For nothing.
Exercising caution, Lucy used the sleeve of her sweater to twist the doorknob. No need to alarm the secretary with her superpowers.
The last person she expected to see as the door creaked open was Ravi. Or Mrs. Brandon. Her physics teacher smiled sympathetically.
Principal Petersen, on the other hand, glowered from behind his desk.
Not good.
Oh no, had he found out about the kiss somehow? Was Ravi in trouble?
“Miss Phelps,” said the principal. “So glad you could join us. Have a seat.” Who knew he could bring the snark? Lucy had hoofed it as fast as humanly possible when she’d received the note. Although she might not be entirely human.
Don’t think about that.
The chair scraped against the linoleum as she pulled it out and slanted a questioning gaze at Ravi. He simply adjusted the cuffs on his tweed jacket. Mrs. Brandon folded her hands together.
Really not good.
“It has come to my attention, Miss Phelps, that you and your fellow students have done exceedingly well on this year’s physics final.” Principal Petersen smiled condescendingly, tipping his head in Mrs. Brandon’s direction. “In fact, there were numerous perfect scores. Some might call that miraculous.”
Lucy’s brow crimped in confusion, her interest briefly drawn to the glass apple on his desk. She doubted any of his students had given him that.
“Miss Phelps?” the principal snapped, regaining her full concentration. “Do you know why I asked you here?”
“No, sir.”
“We take the honor code very seriously at Eaton High.”
An anvil dropped in Lucy’s stomach. Had Megan made good on her threat to turn her in? Why now? Ravi noticed her chest rise and fall rapidly, and he rubbed his thumb against the inside of his palm.
Lucy got the message: Use the tourmaline. Don’t sauté the principal. But Claudia was still fashioning the necklace for tomorrow night.
“Having consulted with Mrs. Brandon and Mr. Malik, the only explanation for the perfect scores is that the students had access to the examination ahead of time.” Principal Petersen rested his elbows on the desk. “Neither of them distributed the exams, which leaves only one other person with access to the science office. Mrs. Brandon’s student aide. You.”
He made the pronouncement as if he’d solved the murder of the century.
Lucy would have snorted if the situation weren’t so dire. Her parents would flip if they found out. She’d be grounded until she was forty.
The words I would never! died on her lips because she’d helped Cole cheat one too many times. But Lucy hadn’t done this.
“Mrs. Brandon trusted you when she gave you a key to the office,” the principal said gravely.
Oh. Frak. The key. Lucy hadn’t simply lost it. Cole must have swiped it.
“Principal Petersen,” she said as calmly as she could. “I have no need to cheat.” Which was the truth. She’d become an expert in sins of omission.
Mrs. Brandon nodded in agreement.
He sighed. “Your academic and disciplinary record have thus far been exemplary, Miss Phelps. Which is why this behavior is so very disappointing. These are grounds for expulsion.” The word echoed in Lucy’s cranium. “And of course,” he continued, “I would have to notify Gilbert College. It would be up to their admissions office whether or not to withdraw your acceptance.”
College. Freedom. Everything Lucy had worked for. It couldn’t just all be yanked out from under her like this. It couldn’t.
Lucy’s gaze darted from Ravi to Mrs. Brandon, pleading.
Her fingers latched onto the edge of the desk. “But I didn’t do it! And you don’t have any proof!”
The principal’s nostrils flared. That had clearly been the wrong tactic to use.
“I will give you the weekend to rethink your position. On Monday I expect you to do the honorable thing and either turn yourself—or the other responsible party—in.”
Lucy trembled in response. Not with fear.
With rage.
“You’re dismissed, Miss Phelps.”
She stormed from the room, clenching her fists at her sides, before she could turbocharge any of the office supplies. She wouldn’t mind melting Principal Petersen’s god-awful woodpecker tie clip and see what he had to say about that.
Damn you, Cole Hewitt.
She should have known a leopard didn’t change its spots so easily. How gullible was she? Actually believing Cole wanted her to tutor him! Did he steal the key from her purse before or after their study session?
Typical Cole. No thought for consequences. No thought for how it might affect the girl he professed to love. That must be the internal conflict she’d been picking up from him in the hot tub that night.
And she had blamed herself! She should have listened to her instincts.
Lucy was near the front lobby when she heard a loud bang.
She twirled around to see one of the locker doors hanging off its hinges.
Her hands shook. From the other end of the hallway, Ravi saw it too.
This time Lucy did run. She needed to be where other people—and metallic objects—were not.