The Fixer (The Fixer #1)(44)

“Don’t you think that’s kind of sexist?” I asked the secretary. She froze.

“I’m sure it’s not,” she said, not sounding sure in the least.

“Chivalry isn’t sexist,” Asher told me.

“If you’re suggesting that females need special treatment because they’re female,” I replied, “it kind of is.”

Headmaster Raleigh still hadn’t quite recovered from the accusation of sexism. “Asher,” he started to say. Then he changed his mind. “Tess.” He scowled. “Both of you, my office, now.”

The headmaster turned around. Asher winked at me, then followed the man into his office. I entered the room last and closed the door behind us. Immediately, my eyes found the picture I was looking for on the wall.

William Keyes. Judge Pierce. Major Bharani. A glare off the picture frame made it difficult for me to see any of them clearly.

“Ms. Kendrick, are you listening to me?” Headmaster Raleigh asked.

Not in the least. “Yes, sir.” The sir seemed to appease him somewhat.

“We have a zero tolerance policy for weapons here at Hardwicke,” the man continued.

“Can it really be considered a weapon if you can eat it?” I asked.

“Or drink it,” Asher added.

“If it explodes, it’s a weapon,” the headmaster declared. “I’m afraid the two of you have put me in a very difficult position.”

“I can only imagine,” Asher said consolingly. “You’ll probably have to suspend me from the lacrosse team.”

The headmaster hesitated slightly.

“And,” I added, “I’m sure you’re going to want to talk this incident over with my sister.”

“You’ll probably have to field all kinds of answers about the contents of Hardwicke’s vending machines,” Asher continued solemnly. “If only we’d considered the ramifications before deciding on this as our Yates Fellowship entry.”

“Yates Fellowship?” the headmaster repeated.

“I came in second last year,” Asher replied. “They appreciate the ability to walk the line between scientific exploration and performance art—but this was really inexcusable. I thought setting up outside would be enough to mitigate any administrative concern, but clearly, I should have checked with someone.”

“Yes,” the headmaster said sternly, “you should have.”

Asher and I sat quietly.

“Do you think they’ll have to review security protocols?” I asked meekly. “If you consider the Mentos weaponized . . .”

“Oh God.” Asher turned to me, wide-eyed. “What if the media gets ahold of it?”

The headmaster stood suddenly, as if sitting had become severely uncomfortable. He walked toward the window and stared out, clearly aggrieved. Asher gestured to me, and I nodded, slipping my phone out of my bag. I took a picture of the photo on the wall. A quick glance at my phone told me the glare was a problem. I glanced over at the headmaster.

“I’m a reasonable man,” Headmaster Raleigh said, still staring out the window. “I hope I’ve impressed upon you how serious this is . . .”

I leaned to the side and tried to get a picture from a different angle as the headmaster droned on. The glare was still there. I rose up slightly on the balls of my feet, my butt leaving the chair, as I leaned over farther.

The second after I snapped the photo, the headmaster started turning back to face us. I thrust my phone into my pocket and tried to retake my seat. Asher thought fast and opted for a distraction: he leaned back in his chair and toppled over, yowling like a cat in a tub full of ice water.

Headmaster Raleigh startled. I leapt to Asher’s side.

“Don’t sue!” I yelled.

“Sue?” Raleigh repeated in horror.

“Where am I?” moaned Asher.

Mission complete.





CHAPTER 35

Ivy picked me up after school, which I took to be a bad sign. Worse, she’d driven herself.

“Probation?” she said, the second I got in the car. “You’ve been at the school less than two weeks, and you’re already on probation?”

She started to pull out of the parking lot, and I hastily buckled my seat belt, remembering what Adam had said about her driving.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded.

Somehow, I was gathering intel on a political conspiracy you told me to stay away from didn’t slide right off the tongue.

“You know what’s going on right now, Tess. You know what I’m working on. Do you really think I have time to be dealing with some teenage discipline problem?”

That cut deeper than I would have expected. “I wasn’t trying to be a problem.”

“Can you at least tell me why?” Ivy’s voice was terse. “Is it because you feel like I’m ignoring you? Are you angry about the way I took care of Vivvie’s situation?”

“It wasn’t about you.”

“I have been trying so hard, Tess.” Ivy’s voice was softer now. “And I thought—” She cut herself off, then cut someone off in traffic. A horn blared behind us. “I thought we were doing okay. I thought you were starting to trust me. I thought . . .”