“No,” I said. “This is something I have to do.” I leaned my head against the window as we drove. I hoped my acceptance letter came next week regardless, but even if it didn’t…even if I somehow didn’t get into my dream school, I knew it was all worth it. Those few souls I’d helped feel not so alone? That was worth all of this…agony.

…

I honestly don’t know what spurred me to check the site’s email the morning before the assembly, but I was beyond glad I did.

The relief at Tessa’s email was so fast and needed it almost hurt. The sensation storming me like a whirlwind.

It didn’t change the fact that I was an hour away from going on stage at Wilmont and confessing my role in Ask Me Anything, but my heart…it felt full for the first time in two days.

The shards and cuts from Dean were still there, but this gave me hope. After the assembly, I would seek out Tessa. Talk to her. Let her know I’d be there for her in whatever way I could.

First, I had to survive the assembly.

And pray that no one would be outraged enough to take action against me.

I still had two months to survive here before I graduated.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

Thirty minutes later, my parents filed into the massive seminar room in Wilmont while I sat and waited in the small office attached to it. My knee bounced, the chatter of practically the entire school and their parents vibrating through the closed door.

“Amber.” Ms. Howard’s voice drew my attention away from the palms of my hands. She closed the door behind her and sank down to my level to meet my eyes. “What is going on?” she asked. “Tanner hasn’t told me, the students, or the board anything.”

“The board is here, then?” My voice was a whisper, my nerves killing any strength I had.

“Yes. Tanner demanded it.”

I nodded, interlocking my fingers to keep them from shaking. He probably thought my admission would be enough to shock them into allowing him to continue as principal. He’d found me, after all, and was holding me accountable. Scrubbing out the dark stain in his perfect, pristine school.

“Amber,” she said. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“I’m beyond help,” I said. “But thank you for the gesture. It means a lot.”

“I refuse to believe that,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll find a way to help you.”

I sighed. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything. Everyone in a fifty-mile radius was about to learn the truth, anyway. I opened my mouth, the story tumbling from my lips easier than I imagined. And when I was done, my over-firing nerves had ebbed to a low buzzing.