Monday morning came and Lucy found herself squaring off with Principal Petersen.
He surveyed her barely brushed hair, barely brushed teeth, and the dark circles beneath her purpling bruise. She wondered if Jess had a matching one, wherever she was.
“Miss Phelps. I trust you’ve recovered from the excitement of prom,” said the principal in monotone, Mrs. Brandon at his side, as he adjusted his horrid tartan tie. Lucy might never recover from the excitement of prom night. Her father could hardly stand to remain in the same state as her, decamping to his office in Manhattan immediately after their argument.
Lucy didn’t reply. Principal Petersen didn’t really want an answer. She focused on the principal’s bald spot to avoid meeting Ravi’s eyes. He stood next to Mrs. Brandon, leaning against a bookshelf, his gaze hot on her face.
The principal angled his chin toward the physics teacher.
“I hope we gave you some food for thought at our last meeting, Miss Phelps,” he continued, focusing a laser-pointer stare on Lucy, “and that the weekend provided some clarity about your position. So, enlighten us. Who is responsible for circulating the physics exam among your classmates?”
If Principal Petersen had asked Lucy to tattletale at prom, she would have turned Cole in as the culprit with relish. Now, however … Lucy’s high school problems seemed very small compared with everything else that had happened.
What Cole had done was wrong, and his threats were childish, but she didn’t want to ruin his future. Involuntarily, Lucy’s eyes slid toward Ravi. She and Cole had already hurt each other enough. She didn’t need petty vengeance.
“Principal Petersen,” she began, looking from him to Mrs. Brandon. “I wish I could tell you who distributed the exam, but I can’t. What I can tell you is that I often left my book bag with the office keys inside in public places. Like the gymnasium while I worked on prom decorations.” She cast her eyes downward. “So it’s possible that someone else could have used my key to the science office without my knowledge. I realize this was irresponsible of me, and I apologize.”
Principal Petersen steepled his fingers together. Mrs. Brandon’s lips were pursed, eyes troubled.
“That is disappointing, Miss Phelps. And not the answer I was hoping for.”
Disappointing: Lucy’s new defining adjective.
“I’m sorry.”
A nasal sigh. “Not as sorry as I am. I will have no choice but to fail the entire senior class and report your breach of the honor code to Gilbert College. In addition, you will be suspended from all graduation activities.”
Lucy’s chin wobbled. Hearing her sentence being pronounced turned her insides to jelly. Her parents would never get over this. She’d never win back her father’s trust.
“Principal Petersen,” Ravi interjected in his most formal BBC voice. “I believe I have another solution.”
“I’m all ears.”
Ravi crossed to Lucy’s side. His hand brushed hers—just for an instant—and, although he was shielding, his touch was still reassuring. Perhaps more than it should be. He knew she was lying, he knew Cole had stolen the exam, but he was willing to back her up. Lucy’s feelings for him were jumbled and thorny, no doubt, and yet she couldn’t deny she was grateful he was here.
Ravi’s chest swelled as he planted his feet, exuding that same quiet confidence he had on the High Line.
“I would suggest that the entire senior class takes a new physics final. Tomorrow morning. There will be no paper copies. I will write the exam questions on the blackboard. That will preclude any possibility of cheating.”
“A very generous offer.” The principal scratched his gleaming head. “Mrs. Brandon, what do you say?”
Expression pained, she said, “Lucy is a model student. My best.”
“I believe in her,” Ravi said, voice firm. He cast Lucy a charged look, and she felt heat flare across her chest. She wished his eyes weren’t so damn mesmerizing.
Principal Petersen’s steepled fingers slid together and interlocked.
“You agree, Cheryl?” he asked Mrs. Brandon.
Lucy held her breath. “I do,” said the teacher with a small smile.
“Very well.” The principal sighed. “Then it is, of course, your prerogative to administer another exam. I will have Mrs. White email the relevant students immediately.”
“Thank you,” Ravi told him.
“And you, Miss Phelps, ought to thank Mr. Malik for his steadfast support.”
Mr. Malik. Lucy ground her teeth at Ravi’s fake name. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. Ravi rotated his torso so that only Lucy could see his mouth, Always.
Principal Petersen nodded in a satisfied fashion. “You may go, Miss Phelps.”
“Thanks,” she repeated as she backed out of the room.
“Mr. Malik, stay a minute,” she heard the principal say, his voice becoming muffled as she closed the door.
Another exam. She’d gotten off easy. Ravi had saved her skin. She hurried toward the exit before she could rip any more lockers from their hinges.
The cynical part of Lucy told her Ravi was just under orders from Professor T to make the problem go away. She was his mission. His assignment.
But the Archimedeans had nothing to do with the way Ravi and Lucy had danced at prom. Remembering how his energy had subsumed her, a dart of lust traveled through her.
Lucy’s powers told her she could trust him, and yet he could still lie to her—to everyone. What if she didn’t pick up on any conflicted emotions in Ravi because he truly believed what he was doing was right. He believed he was helping Lucy. He cared for Lucy. But he could still be in the wrong.
Pencils scratched paper as the lowerclassmen finished up their exams in the classrooms on either side of the hallway. The sound reminded Lucy of scurrying insect legs. If she never saw another scarab again it would be too soon.
Her pocket vibrated just as she reached the exit.
Boats. 15 minutes.
There was both too much and nothing that Lucy wanted to say to Ravi, but she couldn’t risk him turning up at her house.
She felt for the tourmaline at her throat and loosed a breath.
Time to face some more music.