Miles and I walk into the principal’s office together, my arms swimming in his lucky sweatshirt. Instead of leaving us in the lobby, a secretary ushers us into a conference room. This is probably where the teachers meet to talk about the problem kids, or plan the drug assemblies. Now I’m a school-wide problem. Just me.

There’s an oval-shaped wooden table filling most of the room. My eyes land on my parents first, holding hands and sitting closest to the door. On the other side of the table sit Miles’s parents, who are here for some reason, and it makes me want to throw up. They look like him—I guess he looks like them—but they also look kind of like each other, with the same brown hair and dark eyes. They sit straight, his mom’s fingers folded together, his dad’s face resting in a frown.

“Hey, sweetie,” Dad says, patting the chair next to him. “Come sit down.”

Principal Decker sits at the head of the table. She has a light blue shirt on, and glasses perched atop her nose.

“As you know, it is the goal of the faculty here at Sacred Heart to provide a rich learning environment for all students,” she begins. “I called you here today because an unacceptable incident has occurred, threatening the chance for students like Ms. Garcia-Hampton to reach their full potential.” She folds her hands together, placing them on the table. “Now, I’m not sure if you’re aware of what’s at play here, Mr. and Mrs. Austin, but we’re afraid that your son might be implicated in these events.”

It’s so messed up that she brought in Miles, of all people. We should be talking about Jesse’s punishment.

“Wait,” I say, voice hoarse. His mother’s head swivels around as she meets my eyes for the first time, but his father won’t even look my way. “How many people know? And why are they here?”

This isn’t at all how I imagined meeting Miles’s parents. Then again, I guess none of it really matters if I’m just going to leave.

“Simone.” Dad’s voice is soft. “Principal Decker says that screenshots of the tweets were also posted in a Facebook group for parents of students. She believes Miles might have had something to do with it.”

“He definitely didn’t—” I say firmly.

“I can assure you that my son would never do something like this,” Mr. Austin says, cutting me off. He sounds like an announcer on ESPN. “He isn’t nearly so—”

“Vile,” Mrs. Austin finishes. “I don’t know who would make up a lie like this.”

Pops bites his lip. He and Dad share a glance.