He stares at me with his round, unblinking hazel eyes. I finally relent. There’s no way someone as cute as him could have done something as evil as supply my enemy with prime blackmail photos, even if they were friends once.
“Alright. I’ll talk to Evans. But –” I point in his face. “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot. Jack told me at Kayla’s party he did something bad. And you got scared. And I’m gonna find out what it was.”
Wren’s face goes so pale for a second I think he’s had a heart attack. His lips get thin and he glowers. It’s all the proof I need that what Jack said was true. He really did something bad. Something that’s making Wren tremble under his polo shirt and horn-rimmed glasses. But I can’t pry it out of him now. I have a principal to confront. I stride out and leave Wren behind. Evans’ secretary is a pretty dark-haired woman and a spotty birthmark over her forehead that makes her look half Dalmatian and half awesome.
“Can I see Evans, ma’am? It’s urgent.”
“Sure, sweetie.” She smiles. “He’s free. I’ll buzz you in right now.”
I take a deep breath right before the door and compose myself. I can’t kick this door down. I have to be sociable, I have to get the truth from him, and that means pretending I’m nice and pretending I’m easy to fool. So I smile my brightest smile ever and push through the door.
Evans is at his desk, typing away at the computer. Glass figurines of penguins litter his bookshelves, and an ostentatious, tacky gold bust of his own head sits on his desk next to his nametag; PRINCIPAL GOODWORTH M. EVANS. I swallow a snort. Goodworth. What kind of name is that?
Evans looks up, his bald patch more noticeable than ever. He grins.
“Ah, Isis. I figured you’d come in to see me today. Please, sit.”
He figured, huh? That’s not promising. I sit in the plushy chair across from him.
“My picture is everywhere,” I start.
“I know. I saw. I’m terribly sorry – kids these days are just so cruel. I had Marcus clean them up as soon as I saw them.”
“He’s still working on that.”
“I know. Poor man.”
Nothing about Evans’ voice sounds sincere – it’s all half-sweet, meaninglessly airy words. He doesn’t care at all. He just keeps typing at the computer, with no time for me. Either that, or he doesn’t want to confront me. He can’t look me in the eye, and it’s not a good sign. Guilt does that to people.
“I wanted to ask you about Jack,” I say. Evans chuckles.
“No, I won’t give you his home address, his schedule, his phone number, or his social security number.”
“What?”
“That’s what the other girls ask for.”
“I’m not other girls, Mr. Evans.”
“So I can see.” He smiles, typing on the computer even more rapidly. “You were expelled from your last high school because of – what did the police call it? Intent to harm? According to your permanent record here, you fought everyone you could get your hands on, anyone who looked at you a strange way. What made you so touchy, I wonder?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe years of vicious bullying for being fat.”
“But that teasing inspired you, didn’t it? That’s why you lost so much weight. So really, you should be thankful for it, and to the people who antagonized you.”
I laugh incredulously. “Are you f**king kidding me?”
“Language, Isis,” he says smoothly. “We wouldn’t want another mark on your permanent record now, would we? It’s already so scuffed up.”
I underestimated this guy. He plays the game well. Of course he does. He’s had years of adulthood – where everyone smiles when they hate someone and bottles up their emotions – to practice in. He’s a master of passive-aggressive-bullshit-taekwondo. And I’m more a master of the aggressive style. We’re basically dancing around each other in two incompatible styles, so neither of us is getting anywhere. I change my stance.
“I heard Jack’s super smart,” I add a simpering tone to my voice. “That must be because this school is so good at teaching, huh?”
Evans looks up, his chest puffing. “Of course. Our faculty are top-notch, you’ll learn that soon enough. Jack is the brightest student I’ve seen in years – he got a perfect score on his SATs”
I smirk on the inside, but smile on the outside. “So that means he’ll probably go to a really good college, right?”
“Oh, the best. He just started applying to Yale today, as a matter of fact.”
Today? That’s an odd coincidence. When I overheard Jack and Evans, Jack seemed to hate the idea of applying to an ivy just a few weeks ago. So what changed? I narrow my eyes, but keep smiling.
“Wooow. Yale is an ivy league, right? That’s pretty impressive.”
“He’ll apply to Princeton, too, or so he said. It would be a huge waste if someone like him stayed here.”
“Right. Definitely. Is he the first person from this school to go to an ivy league?”
Evans’ eyes glint. “Well, not the first. There have been three people before him. But he’ll be the first in about twenty years, yes.”
“That must make you so proud.”
“Indeed. Extremely proud.”
“Everybody’s gonna think it’s because of your management, probably!”
“Oh,” he laughs in a fake-modest way. “I wouldn’t say that.”
And that’s when it hits me.
“You have access to everybody’s permanent record, huh Mr. Evans?”
Ever eager to show off his power, he preens, smoothing hair ineffectually over his bald spot.
“Hm? Oh, yes. Yes I do.”
“So you have everyone’s past schools on record, too.”
“Certainly.”
“Including mine.”
“Yes, that’s how I know you were expelled.”
“And I bet that record has some old pictures of me, huh?”
Evans freezes, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Gotcha, motherfucker.
“Let me guess,” I say slowly. “Jack called you. Probably on Sunday. He asked you to find old pictures of the fat me, and post them up where people could see them. And in exchange, he would apply to the Ivy League schools you’ve been harassing him about.”
Evans scoffs. “That’s nonsense –”
“Is it? Because that picture of me was taken by my old school’s yearbook club, and they put it in the section titled ‘STUDENT FAILSAUCES! XD’.”
“What’s an XD?”
“A sideways laughing face of horrendous proportions. Don’t change the subject.”
“Isis, look, I really wish I could catch whoever did this horrible thing to you. But the fact of the matter is, we don’t have a very good camera system. And Marcus said he saw no signs of a break-in –”
“Because no one broke in. You just unlocked the gate and doors with your master key. A student would’ve had to have broken a window or a vent grating or something to get inside.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Evans snaps. “Get out of my office, right now.”