Sol and Serena are sitting in the chairs across from Principal Harris and Miller. They both twist their necks around, looking surprised to see me there.
The guidance counselor, Mr. Jefferies, a man who spends more time drinking secretly from his flask than guiding anything, stumbles in a minute later, bumbling out apologies.
“Nathan,” Principal Harris says in a hard voice, giving Jefferies the stink eye. I heard that the guidance counsellor was Principal Harris’ nephew. I’m starting to believe that’s true.
Jefferies falls into the chair across from me, his hair disheveled and his face scrambled in confusion. Given his doe-in-the-headlights look, he has no idea what this is about either.
“I called this meeting today,” Miller begins, drumming his fingers steadily on the table, “because it involves the music program and your future studies here at Redwood Prep.”
Du-du-dum.
His fingers keep drumming.
It’s a low percussion. Like the rattle of fists against the toms on a drum kit.
Miller’s voice has a dark thread of disdain that thickens when he glances at me. “Redwood Prep has a long and vibrant history of giving back to our community. It’s why we’ve opened our doors to anyone. No matter your past…” He looks at Serena, “… your bank account,” he looks at Sol, “or your neighborhood.”
I lift my eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. Whatever this is about, Miller’s grandstanding isn’t going to throw me off.
A long, tense silence passes.
The air conditioner rattles. It mingles with Miller’s finger drumming.
Du-dum. Du-dum.
The conference room has no windows at all. Thin, plastered walls were erected in order to give something close to privacy. Someone threw a desk and some chairs in here too.
No thought to comfort.
Just the bare essentials.
I wish Miller would take a page out of the designer’s book, cut the fluff and skip to the point.
“But,” Miller says finally, lacing his fingers together, “there are rules. Guidelines. It’s what separates Redwood Prep from every other school out there. We try to do our best, but even charity has its limits.”
Principal Harris bobs his head along, eyes closed like Miller’s words are a code he’ll live and die by.
Miller’s speech percolates in my mind. Did he just call us ‘charity’? Like we’re dogs sniffing around his garbage?
Sol’s muscles are tightening. I can see him making fists beneath the table.
I glance over at Serena. She’s got a dark, humorless smile on her face. If she could, she’d probably be flicking her lighter to keep her nerves in check.
As it stands, we both know that Miller is full of crap and this speech won’t end well for one or all of us.
“Our music program was established and respectable long before Jarod Cross threw his money at it.” The slight tilt of distaste at the edge of his words reveals just how much love Miller has for Cross. “But he did contribute heavily to sharpen what Redwood Prep already had in place. And Miss Cooper,” he juts a finger at me, “was chosen specifically to return to that program.”
“Can you just cut to the point?” I blurt, tired of his speech. Christa must take after her father. They both like to hear themselves talk.
Principal Harris leans forward, his eyes bulging out of his sweaty face. “Cadence, have some respect.”
Respect is earned, not given.
I don’t think I’m wrong to demand Miller respect our time the way he expects us to respect his.
“I was in the middle of something important,” I say.
Sure, playing guitar for the cafeteria ladies might not mean jack to Miller or Principal Harris, but it was another step in me getting over my stage fright. Another step in me healing from the awful memories of that dark, damaging place.
It’s confusing as hell that Dutch was the one who hauled me a step closer to the light when he is the very epitome of darkness, but I’m not going to let that drag my celebration down.
Not the way Miller is trying to do.
I stare with cold eyes at Christa’s dad, my shoulders coiling to my ears. Miller and I had an understanding, but from the sharp, calculative looks he keeps throwing at me, I smell a betrayal.
“It’s okay.” Miller calms Harris with a raised hand. His lips curl up almost gleefully as he informs me, “The music program has a limited number of spots. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, that is by design. Redwood Prep is a leader in all areas, but a shining light in the music industry. We don’t mass-produce. We refine a chosen few to carry on our legacy in the world.”
I try hard not to roll my eyes, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
“Principal Harris?” Christa’s dad motions for him to take over.
“Yes, well,” Principal Harris presses his lips together, “although all three of you entered Redwood Prep on a music scholarship, we cannot allow more than two of you to continue in the music program.”
“What?”
Serena’s back goes rigid.
Sol glares and says nothing.
Miller breaks it down again. “We originally had two scholarship students. But now because of Jarod Cross, we have three. We cannot allocate funds to everyone.”
I breathe out through my nose. “Are you saying you’re going to kick one of us out of Redwood?”
Miller smiles.
I want to bash his face in with my fist.
“No, no, of course not.” Principal Harris shoots Miller a quick look as if checking that he’s still on script. “We would not want to strip any of you from your education.”
“Although if we did, as the student who entered Redwood last, you would be the first to go, Miss Cooper,” Miller says.
My skin gets tight suddenly, like it shrunk in the laundromat dryer and now it’s too hard for me to live inside it.
“But,” Principal Harris cuts in, “what we’ve decided to do is remove one of you from the music program.”
“Why us?” Serena spits. “Why not the other music students who barely attend classes and don’t give a damn about their grades?”
“Aren’t you the one with allegations of setting fires in the bathroom, Miss Parker?”
Serena turns red.
“And you,” Miller tilts his head to pin Sol with his frosty stare next, “you were missing for the beginning of the school year. Before that, you were expelled for destruction of school property. You barely managed to squeak back in, but it wouldn’t be far-fetched to hear that you were unable to complete your major.”
Sol’s expression is carefully blank, but his lips are a hard slash across his face. He still hasn’t relaxed his fists.
“And you,” Miller’s bold stare lands on me next, “your grades were what resulted in you losing your place here at Redwood Prep, Miss Cooper. Although the issue has been rectified, you are still a candidate for this readjustment.”
I almost snort. His daughter was the one who helped Dutch and his brothers to fudge my grades and land me in trouble in the first place.
Those rules that Miller finds so precious don’t apply to everyone.
“Of course, had you not crawled your way back into Redwood, we wouldn’t have this problem.” His smile is cruel. “But Jarod Cross is your benefactor and we won’t touch someone he personally vouched for. This doesn’t change our dilemma. As you can see, there are reasons for why each of you are sitting here.”
Principal Harris smoothly adds, “You three have a choice. Discuss among yourselves and suggest someone who’d be willing to drop out voluntarily. That’s the easy way.”
“What’s the hard way?” I ask.
“If administration makes the choice, we’ll do so in the spirit of fairness. You’ll all be forced to repeat another year.”
A whole new year at Redwood Prep sounds worse than a death sentence.
“And if one of us voluntarily leaves the music program?” Serena asks.
“That person can continue the rest of the year as a regular student,” Principal Harris promises. “Of course, dropping out of the music program means your music scholarship will be revoked and you’ll have to pay for the rest of your tuition. But we’ll make accommodations for your budget.”
“You’re nicely kicking one of us out of Redwood Prep then. How benevolent of you,” Serena mumbles.
Sol’s eyes burn a hole into the center of the table.
“We will give you ten days to make your choice.”
The school melody chimes.
Principal Harris checks his watch. “You should head to your next class now.”
“Miss Cooper.” Miller’s eyes spear me. “I would like a word.”
Through the entire conversation, Sol’s been cold and aloof, but in that moment, he sits straight up and glares a hole through Miller’s face. “Why do you need to be alone with her?”
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
Sol takes a long look at me. Then he nods and leaves.
Serena squeezes my hand and takes off behind him.
Principal Harris and the guidance counsellor are the last to leave.
The door clicks shut.
It’s just me and Miller.
I turn my attention to the smug man sitting across the table. All that money and power, more than I can ever see in a lifetime, and yet he takes such twisted pleasure in screwing over the people who have nothing.
“There were nicer ways to tell me you wanted out of our deal,” I say, my voice low and dark. “Ways that didn’t involve dragging innocent people into this.”
He dismisses my words with a shake of his head. “You’re the one who brought them into this, Miss Cooper. Not me.” Miller leans back and the chair creaks, protesting his weight. “Did you really think you could blackmail me?”
I see him scan my face, note my furious expression and find amusement in it. This is all just a game to him. One he can play because he’s rich, powerful and has a guaranteed win.
I fold my arms over my chest, refusing to be intimidated. “I guess this means you don’t care if your daughter goes to jail.”
“You little slip of a thing,” he says smugly. “So reckless. So completely ignorant to how the real world works.” The chair creaks again as his shoulders roll forward and his eyes fill with dark excitement. “Who will believe you? You already told the cops it was a misunderstanding. And even if you wanted to push it, I’ve already spoken to all my lawyers. If you come at us, we’re going to tear your statement apart limb from limb until you wished you’d never been born.”
My nostrils flare as I turn to him. “You’re pathetic.”
His laughter bounces against the ceiling and pings all around me like a nightmarish game of pinball.
I scowl. “You put us in a gladiator ring. You want us to bludgeon each other for your amusement. That makes you a sick bastard.”
He stops laughing, but he’s still wearing that cocky grin. “As much as you probably won’t believe me, this really isn’t my doing, Miss Cooper. We truly don’t have the budget for all three of you nor the interest in keeping more than two. This is the way life works. Good luck.”
I grab my backpack and storm out of the conference room.
When I get to the hallway, Dutch is there, leaning against the wall, one long leg stretched out while the other is braced behind him.
It irks me to see him so confident in himself. So untouchable. Even the way he slides to his full height and runs his fingers through his blond hair pisses me off.
I glare at him, letting the hatred wash anew. I never would have been caught in Miller’s web if Dutch hadn’t given the order to mess with my grades. I never even would have gotten on Christa’s radar if he hadn’t spent so much time trying to kick me out of Redwood.
Now things are this tangled, ugly mess, not just for me but for the people I consider my friends.
And I have no idea how I’m going to get myself out of it, much less them.
Dutch takes sharp steps toward me, his eyes somber. “What was that? What did Harris want with you and Sol?”
“Ask him.”
Dutch grabs my wrist. His angry eyes light on me. “I’m asking you, Brahms.”
My jaw clenches, and I let the words spill out of me. “They say there’s not enough space in the music program for all three of us. They want to kick one of us out.” Tears are burning the back of my eyes because, once again, I’m getting kicked in the teeth just for daring to exist.
“The hell? I thought dad forced you back into Redwood? Are they trying to get back at him?” The words are whispered under his breath.
“This isn’t about your dad. The person Miller really wants to punish is me, but Sol and Serena got caught in the net because they’re close to me.”
Dutch drops my hand. “You’re close to Sol?”
“That’s all you heard?” I let out a disbelieving scoff. “You know what? Forget it. It was a waste of time to tell you anything.”
The bell chimes again.
I knock into Dutch’s shoulder as I head down the hallway. He’s a prick as usual, but today, I really do have bigger things to worry about.
