Superior

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Delaney

Tristan deposited me in front of the principal's office five minutes later, muttering an uneasy "good luck" as he walked away. That certainly didn't help my nerves. The door was opened momentarily by a red-faced Mr. Kastner, who ushered me into the room with lips so tight that they were white.

Our principal was a short, thin man, about fifty, with dark brown hair peppered with gray and light copper skin. Under normal circumstances, he was chronically irascible; but when he was angry, it was a completely different animal.

And at that moment, he was very angry.

I barely made it through the door before he slammed it behind me, trapping us in his small office. It was on the first floor of the school building, its single large window facing out toward the front parking lot. The décor was simple: an L-shaped metal desk situated against the right wall and jutting out into the center of the room, two file cabinets hulking to my left, and four wooden chairs against the wall beside them.

Occupying one of those chairs and looking extremely volatile was none other than Abigail. She had her bag clutched in one hand and the other shoved into her pocket. Her eyes swept over me balefully, but before I could acknowledge her, Principal Kastner shoved a finger at the seat next to Abby with such force that I knew better than to ignore him.

"What is this all about?" I asked carefully as I sat down, hugging my backpack to my chest. The principal glared at me, his face nearly purple, and pulled his thumb and index finger across his lips stiffly. I took the hint and shut up.

After taking a few deep breaths, Mr. Kastner circled his desk with short, jerky movements and sat down, leaning his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. His eyes were squeezed shut.

I wasn't sure what was going on, but I had an inkling of an idea. It seemed impossible, though; I hoped it was impossible. Chewing on my bottom lip, I glanced at Abby, but she wouldn't look at me. She kept her sight trained on a point high on the wall, her chin lifted and her jaw set firmly. I straightened up and tried to absorb some of her confidence, but raised heads and haughty glares could only do so much to mask the anxiety churning inside of me.

Mr. Kastner still wasn't speaking. In an attempt to distract myself, I stared out the window at the parking lot, with all the sports cars and pick-up trucks sitting sedentary in their places. There didn't seem to be anything interesting, but as I continued to watch, a nondescript gray van swung into view, careening wildly around the corner before slowing up to the curb.

It only had two windows, by the driver's and passenger's seats, and even though they were tinted I could see two hands curled around the steering mechanism. The vehicle had been driven manually; a rarity these days. My eyebrows flew up, but only for an instant. The longer I studied the van, the more I realized that it looked extremely outdated; like, multiple decades ago outdated. It probably didn't even have an autopilot option.

I narrowed my eyes at the van. It was pretty sketchy-looking, what with its tinted windows and plain gray paint job. A van like that should belong to a criminal. That, or it should be used to transport criminals.

As this thought crossed my mind, three things happened at once. First, another van, identical to the other one, pulled up behind its twin. Simultaneously, the door to the first van began to slide open, and I saw two long legs kick out onto the sidewalk. And as these instances transpired before me, Mr. Kastner's office door swung open, revealing a confused looking Trai, followed by Caleb. Avery Brown, another office aide, gently shut the door behind them.