“My original understanding of your initially stated quarrel, Sarah, reinforced by you and your mother’s letter and letter campaign,” he explained, smoothly, “was that you were concerned that the content of the play was not to your standards and was in conflict with the heritage and values of the school. I have addressed these concerns with your mother and with all levels of the school administration at a meeting an hour ago, at which point I noted that Peter Pan was one of the first productions at this school, and the original production featured a female lead. So this play and its cast are entirely in keeping with our values. And so, we will be performing Peter Pan. And Anne will be our lead.”

Did that mean he’d talked to my mom? Also, cool about the school’s history with Peter Pan!

I stared at the side of Mr. Davidson’s face. His jaw flexed.

“Okay, yeah, well, it’s also clear that she’s got some vendetta against us, so maybe it’s not okay for her to be in the play,” Sarah sniped. “Maybe it’s about that now.”

“That would be a matter to take up outside of this production,” Mr. Davidson rebutted. “For the moment, we will continue with rehearsals.”

A hot stillness settled over the room. Possibly because I was still bubbling.

“What if we’re not okay with that?” Sarah said, looking at Tanner.

There was a scuffling on the other side of the door. Like someone was listening? Then, like out of nowhere, Minnie let out a long groan. “Oh, whatEVER, Sarah. Give it a fucking break.”

“Language, Minnie,” said Mr. Davidson.

Someone else snickered.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Tanner was dialing his phone. “I’m calling my father.”

Taylor, the kid with the drums, sat up. “Can we just rehearse without you calling your dad, dude? Like, come on.”

“Mr. Spencer.” Mr. Davidson’s voice was tight. “Please put your phone away for the duration of this rehearsal.”

“She fucking tried to set my house on fire.” Tanner pointed at me with his phone, which was still ringing. “That’s fraud.”

Sarah crossed her hands over her chest and bored a glare into my chest. No one said anything about how technically, okay, i f I had set Tanner’s lawn on fire, which I didn’t, it would have been arson and not fraud.

Also, come on, that’s funny.

Tanner held his phone up to his ear. “Dad?”

“Stop.” Gilly pulled herself to her feet. Or foot. Since she was still in her boot. She looked like a small tree springing up from the ground. A tiny tree, but still a tree.

Tanner looked up, seething. “I’m on the phone.”

Gilly held up her phone. “Okay, well, tell your dad that I have texts from Sarah that say some other kid knocked over the firepit that night, not Anne or Berry.”