The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Nolan hated high school. He despised everything about it, and it was ironic that he would find himself returning to one long after he'd moved on.

For as long as he could remember, he fit the awkward, skinny nerd archetype perfectly. It wasn't that he wanted to be anyone different, but he didn't mesh with his classmates as he was. He'd been shoved into lockers, pushed around, and pranked relentlessly. Graduation couldn't come soon enough for him.

He had a paralyzing sense of deja vu as he walked down the corridor with Kaytee. The hallways were full of students and the bell pierced the air with a striking, high-pitched wail. The whole thing was, frankly, a migraine waiting to happen. It was a wonder he'd made it through four years of something close to this.

Kaytee wasn't talking to him. It wasn't that she was outright ignoring him. When they needed to talk or discuss the case, she gave him clipped responses. Otherwise, her lips were sealed, and it seemed unlikely that she would want to make conversation any time soon.

They strode into the front office. A young boy was in the principal's quarters, slouching with his head down. If he noticed them, he didn't let on.

The administrators were all busy. The woman at the front of the room was typing away, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. Her curly, bushy white hair was messy around her temples like she'd been pulling at it from stress.

Nolan could only imagine how tedious it was dealing with teenagers all day long. He was miserable whenever he worked with them. It was partially his nature. He'd never been very good at "relating" to anyone.

The secretary barely glanced up from her computer. "Do you two need a late pass? Truancies have a heavy penalty, you know."

Nolan felt his mouth go dry. "Well, actually—"

"We're federal agents," Kaytee jumped in, flashing her badge. "My name's Kaytee Carlisle. Violent crimes task force."

The secretary, embarrassed, widened her eyes. "Oh, I apologize. I assume you guys are here to meet with Principal Brogan?"

"That's correct," Nolan said.

The secretary took them both in. "You seem a little young to be an agent, sir."

"He gets that a lot," Kaytee replied. "I don't mean to be rude, but we're on a bit of a time crunch."

"Of course," the older woman said. "Just a moment please."

She darted away to notify the principal of their arrival.

Kaytee and Nolan idled by the counter, waiting. She was holding a purse with a notepad sticking out of it, wringing the strap out in her tightly closed fist. She was edgy, and Nolan hoped it didn't have anything to do with him.

"Price wants us to make this as quick as possible," she told him as if he didn't already know that Price was constantly on a tightly-run schedule.

"Gotcha." He couldn't help the way the word emerged from his lips. It was hostile, even though he didn't mean for it to be. He was frustrated, and he let it get to him. Honestly, he felt he was entitled to snap. She'd been avoiding him all day. It was making it hard to focus.

She eyed him, softening. "Foster, I'm sorry. Yesterday... it was something. I'm not happy about it, but I understand why you did what you did. I'm over it. We need to stick together if we're gonna handle this case."

She was trying, extending an olive branch toward him gingerly, afraid to say too much. Kaytee wasn't the type to stay angry for too long, and he didn't want to hold a childish grudge either.