ce, down to the gleaming shears on the ground between them, and then back up. The air crackled, thick with unspoken questi

ce making her muscles twitch. But his hold was like iron. A flicker of ra

ing?" she spit out, her voice low and

rrived, skidding to a halt. Brock, ever the actor, wa

ointing a trembling, accusatory finger at Alison. "Sh

, a low chorus of false witness that solidified the li

icked into a simple, damning narrative: a disheveled girl, a weapon on the ground, an aggrieved star athlete. He released

nd carried an unnerving weight of authority that in

seriously asking me that? Look at him." She jerked her chin towards B

ith mock innocence. "We were just talking. This psych

wasn't looking at Brock. He wasn't looking for Sarah. He was only looki

He knew who she was. He had already pulled up her file in his mind-the girl from the wrong side of t

ion," Alison retorted, her chin lifting in defianc

astian's tone was laced with an icy disapprov

her eyes daring him to challenge he

dacity. Challenging Brock was one thing

nviction, but as confirmation of a volatile, uncontrollable personality. "My office. Now," he commande

the shears with two fingers, holding them away fr

He hadn't even tried to listen. He had sided with the privileged at

re with you," she sai

onto hers. The storm in them intensified. "Principal Hayes will

ed, hung in the air. Alison glanced at Brock, who was smirking, a triumphant, ugly

e, was a losing battle. The optics were a disaster. She

defiance. She didn't wait for him to lead her. She stalked towards the administration b

s expression unreadable. Then, holding th