Chapter 2: Grayson: Tattletale

"I'm here to see Principal Drake." I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder. Another year. Another new school. Another boring meeting with a principal who'll tell me all about my academic record - as if I don't already know what classes I've taken or how many schools I've attended.

"Oh, yes." The secretary smiles. "Principal Drake is currently with another student, but he should be finished any moment. Have a seat, and he'll be right with you."

"Thanks." I lower myself into a stiff, cushioned chair. Blowing out a breath, I survey what I hope to be the last principal's office waiting room of my high school career. The bulletin board to my right contains flyers for upcoming social events, club meetings, and play tryouts - all the stuff I've spent years avoiding because I know I won't be in any one place long enough to join. All the stuff I wish I'd had the chance to do... student council, soccer, Spanish club. This school certainly has a lot of options, more than any other school I've attended. This office, though - I scan the room again, just to be sure. Yep, this office is exactly like every other high school administration office I've ever been in. I yawn and stretch my legs out in front of me.

A moment later, a tall man with thick glasses and a head full of dark hair comes out of the back office, followed by a female student.

"Thank you, Principal Drake."

I straighten, my body suddenly on high alert. I know that voice.

"You're welcome, Isabelle. I appreciate you stopping in."

Sure enough, the girl from this morning steps out from behind Principal Drake. So, her name is Isabelle, huh? I'll have to remember that. She tosses a glance at me, keeps walking, then stops to do a double take. Her long, reddish-brown hair frames her heart-shaped face. Freckles dust her nose and cheeks, highlighting her fair complexion. I wait for her to scold me again, but she doesn't. Giving me a smug smile, she leaves without uttering a word. Well, that's disappointing.

"You must be Grayson Alexander." Principal Drake extends his hand. "Nice to officially meet you." His blue button-up shirt stretches painfully across his thick midsection. I sure hope none of those buttons pop off during our meeting and take out my eye.

I stand and shake his hand. "You, too."

"Come on back."

I follow him into his office. He walks around behind his desk, sits, and nods at the empty chair across from him. "Please, sit." When I do, he clears his throat and flips open a folder. "It says here you were a straight A student at your previous school." He looks up at me as if he's waiting for an answer.

"Yes, sir," I say.

His desk is impeccably clean and organized. Even his pens are sorted by color and brand into various holders. "You weren't involved in any sports or extracurricular activities." He pauses. "You've taken three full years of Spanish?"

"Yes, sir."

Looking up again, he grins. "Senorita Guzman has created a Senior Spanish class for students who have taken at least two years of Spanish and want to pursue fluency in the language. She has room for one more student. Would you be interested?"

"Yeah, definitely." Sitting up straight, I slide my palms along the wooden armrests. Spanish is a cake class, and it will be an easy A.

He flips the folder closed, leans back in his chair, and folds his hands on his protruding stomach.

"I'll have Miss Delilah adjust your schedule so you can take Senior Spanish."

"Thank you." So far, this is the only good thing going for me today.

He picks up the phone and instructs the secretary to alter my schedule. When he's finished, he turns his attention back to me. "Now, I know you've been to a lot of schools, and your records show you've never had any behavioral issues." He clears his throat again and leans forward. "I hope that will be the case here, too."

"Of course."

"Good. Then that little incident on the sidewalk this morning was just a fluke, right?" He raises his eyebrows and gives me a stern look.

I tilt my head in momentary confusion. The sidewalk? And then it clicks - almost hitting Isabelle. I cringe. "Yeah, I'm really sorry about that. I promise it won't happen again."

"I take student safety very seriously." He opens his top drawer and pulls out a folded map of the school. He hands it to me. "All motorized vehicles must be parked in the designated student parking lot."

"Will do." I clutch the map tightly. I cannot believe she told on me!

"Very well, then. You're already late to class, so I won't keep you any longer." Principal Drake stands and escorts me out of his office. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to stop back in."

"Thanks." I give him a fake salute that would make my father roll his eyes.

"Here's your revised schedule." Miss Delilah holds out a sheet of paper. "And a late pass."

I take them both and thank her. As soon as I leave the office, I find the nearest trashcan and toss the map into it. I head to the second floor and come to a skidding stop. There, a few feet away, stands Isabelle. She's hunched over in front of an open locker that's decorated like a shrine. Papers, pictures, and small stuffed animals are scattered around her feet. She momentarily stops rummaging through the locker and rests her head against the door.

She appears... sad? I hesitate but then approach. She can't tattle on me and expect me to feel sorry for her. "You told the principal on me. What are you, five?"

She whips around and glares at me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Don't be mad at me because you're a lunatic who tries to run people over. Really, you should be thanking me." She shoves a couple items into her backpack so fast I can't tell what they are and then proceeds to shove all the stuff on the floor into the locker as quickly as possible.

I lean against the neighboring locker and cross my arms. "Thanking you? Oh, this is going to be good."

"Yes, thanking me." She smiles sweetly - all the emotion from a moment ago is gone - and that single action steals my breath. "If I hadn't told on you, you would've eventually run someone over and killed them." She slams the locker closed, and a white carnation falls to the floor. "And if you'd killed someone, you'd have gone to jail. I saved you from rotting away in prison." Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she adds, "You're welcome." Then she walks away in the opposite direction.