step down. I suggested she might find it a wise course of action.”
“Strongly suggested,” I said.
“Fine,” he returned. “Strongly suggested.”
I reached into my bag and pulled outa stack of pictures. My final phone call had paid off.
“I’m going to
strongly suggest
,” I told the headmaster, “that you take a look at these, and then tell me again that there’s no double standard at Hardwicke.”
I slid the pictures across to him. Luckily for me, some of the freshman boys on the lacrosse team were still holding a grudge about theextreme hazing. And as it turned out, they’dtaken some very interesting pictures of upperclassmen at a couple of team parties.
“I especially like the one of John Thomas Wilcox doing a keg stand,” I said, a sarcastic edge creeping into my tone. “It’s so much less incriminating than a picture of a girl leaning against a wall, with nary an ounce of alcohol in sight.”
The headmaster thumbed through the pictures. “Where did you get these?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“I suppose you want me to suggest to Mr. Wilcox that he step down from this race as well?”
“You could,” I said. “Of course, then you would probably have to open nominations back up so that Henry Marquette wasn’t running unopposed.” My lips curved up in a subtle smile. “I’m sure the student body wouldn’t have any trouble finding another female nominee.”
“Yes, yes,”the headmaster said, seeing a way out of this. “Of course.” Then he seemed to realize that I was
still
smiling.
“It’s the funniest thing,” I said. “People keep telling me that
I
should run.”
I could see Raleigh playing the scenario out before his eyes with no small amount of horror. The last thing he wanted was
me
in a position of power.
“Perhaps,” he allowed through gritted teeth, “I couldhave another discussion with Ms. Rhodes. Convince her that I might have been . . . hasty. That she
should
run.”
“If you think that’s best.”
“This little social experiment of yours comes down,” he said flatly.
“The pictures come down,” I agreed. I stood and turned toward the door. Halfway out of the office, I stopped. I could feel the headmaster seething behind me.
He wasn’t the only one whowas angry. “My first week at this school,” I said without turning back to face him, “an upperclassman boy was showing off photos he’d taken of a freshman girl, sans clothing.”
I didn’t say who the girl was. I didn’t say who the boy was. That wasn’t my truth to tell him—and he didn’t need to know. He did need to know that Emilia’s situation hadn’t happened in a vacuum. He needed to know that theHardwicke administration was culpable, that the way he’d mishandled Emilia’s situation
mattered
.
“I’m the only reason
those
photos weren’t distributed,” I continued, steel in my voice. “You might think I’m a troublemaker, Headmaster, but believe me when I say that I solve more problems for you than I cause.”
CHAPTER 19
When Bodie picked me up after school, there was a garment bag hanging in the backseat.
“Ivy making an appearance at some kind of event tonight?” I asked him.
“Nope.” Bodie took his time with elaborating as he pulled past the Hardwicke gate, nodding to the guard on duty. “You are.”
I eyed the garment bag with significantly more suspicion. “What kind of event?”
“The kind at whichyour attendance was imperiously demanded.”
I didn’t have to ask who had demanded my presence. “Since when does Ivy acquiesce to William Keyes’s demands?” I asked.
“Since Monsignor Straight-and-Narrow backed up his father’s request.”
I raised an eyebrow at Bodie. “Monsignor Straight-and-Narrow?” I said dryly. He had to be referring to Adam, but as far as nicknames went . . .
“Not my best,”Bodie acknowledged. “It’s been a long week.”
It had been four days since Walker Nolan had come to Ivy. Three since the bombing. Two