At least I had sound reasoning now. I thought he’d been doing it to rob me of personal time outside of school and to make sure the school’s website was as pristine as his starched shirts.

“It wasn’t Amber,” I said, suddenly realizing what he had implied.

“You seem very sure of that.”

“I know it, sir. She’s too smart for something so…”

He arched a brow at me.

“Childish,” I said, hoping that would appeal to his rational side.

He finally nodded. “Indeed it was.”

“And,” I added, wanting all spotlights off Amber and myself, “your computer wasn’t hacked.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it wasn’t necessary. Anyone could’ve swapped your videos when you were out of your office.” Acid climbed up my throat as I realized in my attempt to throw his gaze off us, I’d inadvertently thrown it onto someone else. Sure, the person who messed with his presentation had made their own choice, but I didn’t want them to go down for it.

Something clicked behind his eyes, and my stomach dropped.

Fuck, was it graduation yet?

I wanted to be done with this shit. Wanted to win the TOC, get accepted to MIT, graduate, and earn my way into as many boot camps as I could before starting college.

“I’d like you to take another look at my laptop,” he said, retrieving it and setting it before me on his desk. “Just to be certain.”

“Sure,” I said, and tried not to groan.

There wouldn’t be anything here. I’d already checked the day of the prank.

“Sit,” he said, motioning to his personal leather chair behind the oak desk.

I moved toward it, timid, like it might be a trap. Slowly, I sank into it and opened his laptop.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it.” He walked through his door, the lock catching before it could close entirely.

“Cynthia,” I heard him say through the door. “Status update, please.”

I scanned his office, my eyes trailing over the countless awards he had decorating his walls, before focusing on his screen. I typed a few commands, going through the motions of checking his security…again.

“Fourteen total this month,” his secretary said, her quiet tone pausing my movement on his keyboard.

“Fourteen?” he grumbled. “That won’t do.”

“Should I schedule meetings with the students and their parents?”

A deep sigh.

I strained my ears, totally forgetting about my pointless task.

“The board is giving me no options. My birthright is to be the head of this school. They’ll take it from me if academics slip even a fraction this year. Plus, if I want to win Educator of the Year again and have the state award us another sizeable grant for…whatever I deem the students worthy of…then yes, Cynthia. Make the necessary arrangements.”