I tried to call Angela back as she marched out of the locker room. I really didn’t know how she could help me. Sure, having Damien’s girlfriend on my side was a help, but would Dean Crowe even care? If he said I was expelled, how could Angela stop him? I hurriedly finished changing and got my bag. She was waiting just outside. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” I said.

“I’m doing it.”

“Won’t this get you into trouble with Damien?”

“I don’t care. Let’s go.”

She turned and headed toward Dean Crowe’s office. I followed behind her, dragging my feet.  

Dean Crowe’s office was at the front of the school. It was in the center of the administration offices. I entered the front reception area, and a small cadre of secretarial staff buzzed throughout the room, moving from copier to desk, typing, speaking into headsets, placing items into the wall of faculty mailboxes. At the back, stood a tall oak door, polished to shine until it dazzled the eye, and beside it sat Mrs. Wolt, Dean Crowe’s personal assistant. Mrs. Wolt had been the personal assistant of five deans. My mother thought she was in her seventies, but retirement was never mentioned. She looked coolly over her horn-rimmed glasses that were probably older than me, “Ms. Smith, you’re late,” she said.

I looked at the clock which was mounted on the wall behind her. It was a quarter to four. The school day ended at 3:30pm. “My last class is gym. I needed to shower and change.” 

Her eyes flipped to Angela. “And Ms. Blackthorne, why are you here?”

“I’m here for Sarah,” she said.

Ms. Wolt looked skeptical. She raised a hand to her headset and pressed the talk button. “Dean Crowe, Sarah Smith is here to see you. Angela Blackthorne would like to be added to the appointment.”

Dean Crowe said something in reply that we couldn’t hear. “Yes, sir. I’ll show them in.”

She lowered her hand from her headset. “You may go in, ladies.”

I turned to the office door and swallowed. To my surprise and gratitude, Angela slipped her hand into mine. “It’s going to be okay, Sarah.”

With Angela’s hand in my cold, sweaty palm, I stepped toward the imposing door. It opened before my hand could reach the door handle. Dad had said something about Dean Crowe having a remote-controlled door installed. Red had a devil of a time installing it. Seeing it in action, I got why he’d want it. It showed this was his space and he controlled everything. Even the door across the room. 

Angela pressed her body into my side and together we filled the doorway and looked in. The dean’s office was old school grandeur. The walls on either side were lined with built-in bookcases that held old, well-cared for leather volumes with gold lettering on the spines. The floor was covered with a Persian rug. And the furniture was soft leather. And at the end of the room, behind a large walnut desk sat Dean Crowe. “Sarah, Angela, please come in and have a seat.”

We walked down the long room to his desk that had two chairs set up for us waiting. Dean Crowe had been dean of Noble for five years. When I’d shadowed Dad as he went around doing odd jobs, we had crossed paths occasionally. The dean would greet Dad and politely inquire after Mom and ask how things were. Dad would chat with him amiably, but there was a formality to it. I’d wisely stayed behind Dad and didn’t interject myself. Dean Crowe had occasionally tossed idle questions at me like how did I like my middle school and how was I doing in my classes. I would answer them minimally with Dad filling in any gaps. Dean Crowe was in his fifties with salt and pepper hair. He had the type of paunch that added to his gravitas rather than made him appear out of shape. He was always smartly dressed in brown suits with silk vests and ties and a gold pocket watch whose chain would glint against his belly. He now sat behind his desk with his hands clasped before him. He seemed amused by us more than upset. He didn’t look like he was about to kick me out of the only home I’d ever known. Angela and I had to release our hands to sit and I immediately felt less brave. 

He smiled at both us. “Angela, I take it you’re concerned for Sarah.”

She had sat primly and folded her hands in her lap. I mimicked her, though I wanted to put my head between my knees and brace for disaster. 

“Yes, I want to make sure you don’t intend to expel Ms. Smith for what has transpired today.”

One of Dean Crowe’s eyebrows rose in amusement. 

“She did strike Damien West,” he said, but his voice held no ire or even admonishment.

Angela nodded with a sniff. “I know, but may I be blunt and say, he had it coming.”

My jaw dropped, and I turned to stare at her. What about violence only begets violence? She’d almost made me feel bad for kneeing Damien. 

Dean Crowe chuckled. “Yes, well, that isn’t really for me to say,” he said.

“What does Damien say?” she asked.

I steeled myself for whatever outrageous lie he’d given. 

The dean’s other eyebrow rose. “Damien has refused to give any statement. All we have is the call Prof. Friedman made alerting us to the altercation between Sarah and Damien.”

“What were Prof. Friedman’s exact words?” she asked.

He was ready for the question and raised a piece of paper that must have had the transcript of the call upon it. “His exact words were, ‘Send security to the east corridor now. Damien West is assaulting Sarah Smith. He just dragged her out in the middle of class. Oh, God. She’s such a sweet child. Damien just threw her against the wall. He’s yelling at her. She’s yelling back. Oh, Sarah, run, child, just run. Oh no, he’s got her pinned. She can’t go any—Holy shit, she kneed him in the balls. That’s my girl. Oh no, oh no, security’s here. She isn’t resisting. She isn’t resisting. They’re letting her come back to class? Well, I’ll be damned.’

The call ends there.” 

I sat there in amused shock. Prof. Friedman had never seemed that interested in me. I’d never thought he was even aware of me. Well, now I understood how the rest of class knew what I had done. I was sure Dean Crowe hadn’t done Prof. Friedman’s call any justice either, reading it in a flat monotone voice, editing out all of the exclamation marks that had to have been in there. Though that might have been intentional. His eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement when he lowered the paper. 

“Well,” Angela said. I turned to her and saw she had paled. I reached across to touch her arm.

The amusement faded from Dean Crowe’s face. “Angela, would you like to leave now? I assure you, Sarah is not being expelled.”

Angela numbly nodded and rose. I rose as well. 

“Sarah, stay a moment longer,” Dean Crowe said.

I turned back in surprise. Angela continued out of the office. I watched her go in anxiety. I was alone with the dean, and though he had promised expulsion was not in my immediate future, he wouldn’t have asked me to stay if he didn’t have some sort of punishment in mind. I sat back down and clenched my fists. I really wanted to put my head down but kept my chin high. 

The dean clasped his hands again before him and gave me a serious look. “Damien West has taken quite the interest in you.”

I mutely nodded. 

“And I am aware of the fireworks that have been sparking between you two.”

Fireworks? More like TNT, I though. I still stayed quiet.

“But you’re not afraid of him,” he continued.

My mouth snapped open at that. “He’s terrifying,” I protested.

Dean Crowe nodded. “Yes, but you’re not afraid of him.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I replied.

He peered at me a moment and appeared unconvinced. He lifted another sheet to skim it. “Damien West has registered for every class you’re in.”

“I know and it’s awful.” I couldn’t lie or hold it back. 

“Why do you think he did that?”

“Because he wants to torment me! He insists on sitting right next to me, no matter what. Some of the classrooms don’t even have paired seating, but he insists on us sitting together. He’ll push two desks up to each other anyway. It’s terrible.”

“Oh, the horror,” he said with a touch of dry sarcasm.

I inhaled sharply. “No, you don’t get to belittle the hell I’ve been through. He pulled a knife on me, he had my father arrested, he grabs me and throws me around like I’m his personal rag doll, and then he touches me in ways I don’t want. The fact is I wish you would expel me because then I’d have to go to another school.”

Dean Crowe’s face stiffened and he stilled. “He touches you?” he asked and his voice was lower with a hint of growl. 

“He licked my face, he grabbed my thigh, he snapped my bra, and I don’t want any of it! I don’t want him touching me, but he thinks it’s funny because he doesn’t get into any trouble. And why should he? His father owns this school.”

I slumped and rubbed my eyes. Oh no, why’d I have to say all of that? What if the dean decided not only that I needed to go but both my parents did too? I threw my arm across my face. I really messed up. I shouldn’t have said anything. Tears soaked my shirt sleeve. My breathing stuttered as I cried. I heard a gentle cough, and I felt the touch of cardboard on my arm. I lowered my arm to find the dean holding out a box of tissues. I took them, my bottom lip trembling still. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I took deep breathes to calm myself. 

Dean Crowe sat quietly watching me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I waited for him to speak. 

He sighed. “And yet his response to you is the best we’ve seen.”

My eyebrows rose as I looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He coughed again to clear his throat. He looked uncomfortable. He shook his head and picked up yet another sheet on his desk. “Damien West is on the cusp of institutionalization. If he continues to act as he does, they will put him into a padded cell and throw away the key.”

“Sir, maybe they should,” I said softly.

He sighed and let the paper fall back to his desk. “Damien has an IQ of 147. He is capable of great things. If he’d applied himself, he could’ve finished high school at age twelve. He could’ve already had his bachelor’s degree.”

“But instead he set fire to his middle school,” I replied flatly.

He looked at me shrewdly. “Did he tell you that?” 

I slumped and looked away. “No, but it seems pretty obvious.”

“He was out of the country when the fire happened.”

I shrugged. “He could’ve hired someone.”

Dean Crowe appeared amused. “And why would he have done that?”

“You say he’s a genius, sir. I’m willing to go along with that, though I have not seen any hard evidence. But if he’s a genius, he’s an evil genius.”

The dean chuckled. “Very well. So, Sarah, will you help me reform this evil genius?”

I stared at him with round eyes. “And how do you expect me to do that?!”