The school doesn’t call this time.
The call comes from Zara.
It’s 2:43 p.m., and I’m mid-lecture in a seminar on moral ambiguity in George Eliot.
My phone vibrates in my bag.
Zara.
I excuse myself without explanation.
“Zara? What’s wrong?”
There’s silence.
Then—
“They suspended him.”
Relief rushes through me.
“Okay. Good.”
“He’s not the one who hit me.”
My stomach drops.
“What?”
“It wasn’t just him.”
Her voice is shaky now.
“There were two of them. The one who got suspended was just the loud one.”
“Why didn’t you say that before?”
“Because the other one’s dad is on the school board.”
My pulse pounds in my ears.
“Where are you?”
“In the bathroom. I left class.”
“Stay there. I’m coming.”
I hang up and call Marcus.
“There’s another kid involved. School board parent.”
