Chapter 7

I make it into the classroom where I hope to take Law right as the bell rings, and the teacher, a stern-looking woman in a dreary cherry-colored dress with lips the same shade, greets the students from her place by the board.

Her reproachful look makes me stop and apologize. Pilar is already sitting at a desk by the window, eyes bulging, head tucked into her shoulders, and she signals to me (dragging her thumb across her throat) that I'm dead.

"Good afternoon, Miss Edwards! I'm sorry I'm late. May I sit down?"

I hope my friend wasn't wrong and I've pronounced the name correctly; otherwise awkwardness and unnecessary trouble will be impossible to avoid. Usually, the principal personally introduces new teachers to the students, but judging by the way this woman looks so sharply and carries herself so calmly, she doesn't need that at all.

"What is your name?" she asks, and I answer:

"Lena Holt."

She checks my words against the entry in the gradebook and says:

"Take your seat, Miss Holt, but be advised: you've received your first warning. A second tardy will cost you penalty points and extra work. And that applies to everyone!" she raises her voice, looking around the classroom. Extending her hand, she points me toward the only empty desk in the far row by the wall:

"Take your place, please. For the duration of this course, it is yours."

I nod, grab my backpack, and hurry to sit down, but suddenly stumble when I notice, at the last desk, directly behind mine, Carter Wright.

He looks stunned too. For him, this is definitely not a pleasant surprise, and my legs barely obey me as I lower myself onto the chair in front of him.

Damn it! Not this! He couldn't have chosen the same subject I did!

There are only sixteen people in the class, and the school has a wide selection of electives for anyone who wants to graduate with high marks: macroeconomics, photography, Eastern cultures and psychology, foreign languages. Our town has one of the best universities in the state, so no one wants to miss their chance.

So why Law, of all things?

School had always come easily to Alex; he planned to study journalism, and he probably would have graduated with honors. When Gregory Butler once joked that nature had fairly divided the roles between the twins, giving one brains and the other fists, like Carter, Alex got offended and said his brother was much smarter than everyone thought and would prove it.

But I always thought the older brother was counting on an athletic scholarship, like Nicholas. The guys on the lacrosse team were losing their minds over last year's success in the town championship, and I heard Wright had been chosen captain… And suddenly, the basics of law.

The icy stare on my back locks my shoulder blades so tightly I can't move. When I try to dig a notebook and pen out of the depths of my backpack, both fall to the floor, and I freeze in helpless indecision, realizing I can't make myself pick them up.

"Move her somewhere else."

Miss Edwards is just finishing learning the students' names when she is forced to break off and adjust the glasses on her nose, reacting to the demand.

"Did you say something, Mr.… uh, Wright?" she asks, as if she didn't hear.

"Yes," comes the low, hard voice behind me. "I said move Holt somewhere else."

God, my heart leaps and hammers like a frightened doe. The students in the classroom turn their heads toward us, and I'm already preparing to jump up… when the woman gestures for me to stay where I am.

"State the reason, Wright. Why should I do that?"

Carter isn't embarrassed. Judging by his cold tone, it is unlikely anything or anyone could embarrass him.

"I don't like seeing Holt in front of me. That's all."

He's telling the truth. I know he hates me; I just can't understand why. But right now I don't need an answer. I want to get as far from him as possible myself.

"I didn't ask what you like," Miss Edwards says to her student, no less coldly. "I asked you to state a reason."

"I can't see because of her."

"Is that so?" The surprise on the teacher's face turns to skepticism. "State your height, Mr. Wright."

Judging by the pause, Carter doesn't like the question, but he answers anyway.

"Six feet, ma'am."

"And may I know your height, Miss Holt?"

I say it quietly, but they hear me:

"Five foot four, ma'am."

"Good," the teacher nods, "that's what I thought. Did you choose that desk yourself, Mr. Wright?" she clarifies with him. "Without my involvement?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you remember the central premise of the Declaration of Independence?"

From her important expression, it's easy to guess she's almost certain of a positive answer, and Wright doesn't disappoint her.

"I remember it perfectly."

"Then be so kind as to remind us, please. Otherwise I may begin to wonder whether you've come into the wrong classroom."

Everyone in the class holds their breath, and so do I. No one wants a scandal involving the principal. I would gladly move just to stop this conversation. Pilar wasn't wrong: Miss Edwards turned out to be a tough nut. Another teacher would have called administration long ago.

"'All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…'" Wright recites. "That's what the original text says. Personally, I have serious doubts about it, but I assume that's the part of the Declaration you meant, ma'am?"

"Exactly. Thank you."

"Should I recite the Bill of Rights from memory too?" Carter's dry tone carries mockery. "Or should we move straight to the amendments to the Constitution and the basics of individual rights? All because of Holt?"

I still can't take it and straighten in my chair, ready to spring out of it at any moment.

"We certainly will. All in good time. But for now, young man, I still haven't heard the reason for your demand," Edwards reminds him.

The guy behind my back exhales loudly and reluctantly.

"Fine. It's personal. Is that clear enough?"

"Not at all. I recommend leaving all personal reasons outside the doors of the educational institution. Otherwise our school risks turning into what the White House very nearly became during the Monicagate scandal, and I would prefer to avoid that."

The teacher shifts her gaze to me.

"Miss Holt, do you have any objections? Please bear in mind that you were the one who was late and came to class last. So there wasn't much choice."

The question comes unexpectedly, and my chin jerks.

"No!"

"Good. Then you have the legal right to occupy your seat. As for you, Mr. Wright," she turns to Carter, "you have three options to choose from. And all of them, please note, are strictly within the law."

"I'm listening, Miss Edwards."

The woman nods, folding her hands over the folder in front of her.

"First, you may see an eye doctor. Second, you may switch from my subject to one more suitable for you. Of course, that won't be easy now, given that the rosters are closed and the school year has already begun, but I think the administration will meet you halfway. And the third option is to file a complaint against me. I admit, the last option is not my favorite, but I would be extremely interested in discussing your grievance with the principal, together with you. Well?"

I can't see it, but I can imagine Carter's jaw tightening.