I had been scared their reactions would be like Dean’s, but it seemed only he had hated what I’d done. Well, him and who knew how many outraged parents.

He’s tried to apologize.

True. But I hadn’t let him. Because I wasn’t sure if he knew about Tessa. And even if she let me off the hook this morning, it was still there. My hand in her situation. Something I’m sure he wouldn’t forgive and shouldn’t have to, and then the hurt would happen all over again.

So, I had a new wall around my heart, and every brick had Dean’s name chiseled on it.

Another deep breath.

I took one stair, then two.

And as I reached the podium in the center of the stage, the two massive projector screens behind me, I felt as if I’d come full circle. It was in this room where my anger had festered, which led to the idea for the blog in the first place. It was here where Hannah had been desperate for answers she couldn’t find or dare ask.

This room was where it started.

And now it’s where it would end.

I cut my eyes to the left, trailing Tanner as he walked across the room to take his seat. Front and center. His eyes were full of satisfaction.

He should be up here. Being exposed for all the actions he’d taken against students. His secrets should be laid bare. Not mine.

I sighed, gripping the edges of the podium.

He held all the power.

And I was done.

Sickness churned in my stomach, threatening to rise instead of the words I knew I needed to say. To admit.

“I’m sure you’re all ready to figure out why you’re here,” I said into the microphone, my voice echoing loudly in the quiet room. I cringed against the sound, but pushed on. “You’ve been called here today because I—”

Tanner snapped at Mr. Griffin who sat at the computer desk off the stage, effectively cutting me off. Griffin cringed, glancing at me apologetically before he clicked a button, and I saw my website’s homepage fill the screens behind me. Sighing, I turned halfway—enough to look at the audience and my work at the same time.

“Like I was saying,” I said, flashing Tanner an eff-you look. “You’re here because there are things you need to know. Apologies I need to make.” My eyes trailed to where a student had his cell phone out and pointed directly at me. The live feed for all the other schools. At least the kid looked like he didn’t want to be there.

“First, I want to say I’m—” Something flashed on the screens, killing my words.

DC.

It blinked in the bottom right corners of the screen, on my site.