Free Claws (9780545469678) by Rachel Mike; Grinti Grinti Page A

said miserably. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.”
    â€œI’m sorry, too,” Ms. Keyes said. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to go call Matt’s mother to tell her what’s happened.” She went into her private office, leaving Emma alone with the cop.
    The cuffs made Emma’s hands and arms feel numb. She fidgeted in the hard plastic chair. The cop kept looking at her like she was some kind of rabid animal.
Maybe I am
, she thought.
    Emma’s mom came into the office. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. The cop pointed at the empty chair next to Emma. Her mom went to sit down, but stopped short.
    â€œAre the handcuffs really necessary? She’s only twelve.”
    â€œI’m sorry, ma’am, but we have to in situations like this,” said the cop, but he didn’t sound sorry at all.
    Emma’s mom sat beside her. Emma tried to hide her hand, but it was no use. Her mom’s eyes went wide when she saw the claws. “Emma, what’s happened to you? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    Emma didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. She looked at the floor.
    â€œWhat if you go to jail? Did you think about that before playing around with magic? Did you have any clue at all what you were doing?”
    â€œThey don’t send kids to jail,” Emma said softly. She knew that much.
    â€œThey don’t send
human
kids to jail,” her mom whispered. Then she started to cry.
    The cop sighed.
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t know about the claws.” Emma didn’t know what else to say. She wished they’d go away so she didn’t have to look at them. So that her mom didn’t have to look at them. So that the cop would stop scowling at her. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, they had to believe that. Maybe she could get them taken out, or filed down. She forced herself to look at them. Why was it so hard to remember what her hand had felt like without claws? She tried harder, recalling what it was like to move her fingers, to curl her hand up and open it again.
    Finally, the claws slid back into her palm, leaving ugly slits where they’d pierced her skin.
    The door to the principal’s office opened. “Mrs. Vu?” Ms. Keyes called. “Please come in.”
    Emma, her mom, and the cop all followed Ms. Keyes into her office and sat down in front of her desk.
    â€œWe’ve just heard from the nurse that Matthew’s eye wasn’t damaged in the attack. He may, unfortunately, have scars, though she doesn’t know how bad they’ll be. As I’m sure Emma has told you, Mrs. Vu, we have a strict zero-tolerance weapons policy. The consequences of that are expulsion and a mark on her permanent record.”
    Ms. Keyes held up a hand to stop Emma’s mom’s protests. “I may be able to convince the board to overlook the weapons charge, since the claws are clearly part of Emma’s hand: She couldn’t very well leave them at home. So I’ll see what I can do to keep this incident off the record,
if
you agree to withdraw Emma from school. We pride ourselves on running a simple school, Mrs. Vu. We’re not equipped to deal with a . . .” Ms. Keyes hesitated “. . . child like Emma. I have the paperwork all ready.” She slid a stack of forms across the desk. Her voice softened. “I think this is best for Emma and the other students, don’t you?”
    â€œBut where’s she supposed to go?” Emma’s mom asked, her voice fierce. “She still has to go to school. She still has the right to an education.”
    â€œHomeschooling is one option,” Ms. Keyes said. “There are also alternative schools for children like Emma.”
    â€œCrag schools, you mean,” Emma’s mom said.
    â€œI never used the word crag, Mrs. Vu. However, clearly an all-human environment such as this is not the best place for Emma. Think about it,