Firestorm | ✎

11. olive branch

     The headmaster's office was becoming a recurring theme.

     The eight students stood facing the daunting mahogany desk, like a couple of pre-schoolers about to receive a fit of reprimanding. All were dripping wet, their hair sloppy and their bodies carrying a particularly nauseating odour. They were at least allowed to clean up the food that was stuck to their skin, but unfortunately the headmaster couldn't spare them five minutes for a bloody shower.

     Well, Isla thought, that was on them.

    "Why is it," the headmaster said agonisingly slowly, like he was so furious to the point of calm collection, "that every time there is a public quarrel, it's always located in the dining halls?" No one dared to respond. "Hm? Can somebody explain this to me?"

     Charles raised his hand. "Maybe because it's the best source of entertainment? You got all the Years piled up in one big room, and it makes for a valable audience—"

    "That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Graham! Put your hand down!"

     Charles gulped and dropped his hand.

    "This is a serious issue that needs none of your mockery." The tension crackled to new degrees. "First, your disruption was a clear violation of the rules—multiple rules. Not only have you risked the rest of your peers, but you've also knowingly involved students of different years—your fellow underclassmen. Now we will have to receive complaints from their parents, accommodate to each of their liking, and somehow justify how their kids were pulled into a fight caused by the very model students that Belfort Academy has entrusted them to believe in."

     He paused. "This goes beyond the issue of Sixth Form students and now concerns every Year in this Academy, do you understand now?"

     Isla certainly did, and she was sure the rest of them were, too, if their guilty silence was any indication of it. 

     Stupid. How could she have been so stupid?

     "Second, I have heard disturbing reports of what caused this disputation, which was your video, Mr. Sabatier." All eyes turned to Elias, and for once, he didn't bask in the attention. "I do not wish to waste time on reprimanding you, considering that you yourself should know the idiocy of your actions—past and present ones." An unflinching stare. "It is intolerable. I wanted you to personally know that. That kind of behaviour is not acceptable in this institution."

     Elias's head hung in guilt. Huh.

     That little arsehole knew guilt after all.

    "You and you." The headmaster pointed at Amber and Sofia. "Explain to me what happened. Make it court. No one else talks."

     Isla heard her best friend's breath hitch with fear.

     But the two girls explained anyway. She knew why the headmaster chose them; they had better reputations than most in the room, with Amber generally staying out of trouble and Sofia being the prefect of one of the dormitory houses—Isla's. They were careful enough to not let any hostile emotions get the better of them.

    "So just to be perfectly clear," the headmaster clicked his tongue. "You three were acting in Miss Kingsley's defence." He pointed at Amber, Zélia and Charles. "And you two were acting in Mr. Sabatier's defence." Blair and Sofia. The man paused and looked at Nolan, oddly singling him out. "And what was your role in this madness?"

    "I tried to stop it, sir. But I was caught in the fray."

     The headmaster easily believed him, nodding. Isla tried to contain her surprise. Perhaps he had a soft spot for Nolan Parrish... he had quite a clean track record, as far as she knew.