Before Elle could object, the door behind the boys opened and Mrs. Whitworth stepped out. “Thank you so much for coming before all the festivities start,” she said, the strained smile on her face immediately making all four of us sober. “Please, come inside, have a seat.”

My stomach dropped when she stepped aside to let us pass and I saw what was going on inside: on one of the couches in Mrs. Whitworth’s office sat Amelia, framed by her parents.

Amelia’s mother was a red-haired woman with sharp facial features and a penetrating gaze that followed us as we squeezed onto the couch on the opposite side of the room. Her father, clad in a custom-tailored suit and with his graying hair combed back neatly, looked just as harsh, every inch of him radiating control and authority.

Between them, Amelia seemed small and lost, a little girl among two unmoving statues. She was sitting with her back straight and her fingers clenched tightly in her lap, not a single wrinkle in her skirt or a hair out of place. Surely she would’ve seemed just as cold and collected as her parents had she not been shaking like a leaf in the wind, her eyes darting across the floor without ever meeting mine.

Mrs. Whitworth shut the door and cleared her throat before she hurried to sit behind her desk. Breaking the tense silence, she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, these are the students affected by the recent events. Ashley Danell, Evelyn Greene, Seth Willams, and Jasper Des Lauriers.”

Mrs. Campbell only nodded curtly while her husband said,

“Pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t sound pleased in the slightest.

“Mr. and Mrs. Campbell came to talk to you before the Winter Banquet begins,” Mrs. Whitworth told us. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head wordlessly while the others muttered quiet affirmations.

“Very well,” Mr. Campbell said. “You see, we are in a bit of a difficult situation here. We know all about what our daughter has been up to over the last few years. She has confessed about her internet blog and about the part she played in endangering the lives of some of you.”

During the few seconds it took him to speak these sentences, Amelia noticeably shrank into herself, wilting like the flowers on Mrs. Whitworth’s desk.

Mrs. Campbell gave a brusque nod. “We want to apologize for the harm that she has caused. If we had known that she was behind all this, we would have put a stop to it immediately.

Sadly, we did not, so now we are here, in a situation that I believe none of us want to be in.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Campbell told me they would take Amelia out of Seven Hills as a consequence,” Mrs. Whitworth said, her voice smooth and quiet. “But I think that, seeing as you four are the students most affected, you should be the ones to decide.

I’m aware that it’s a difficult situation for you, and a lot of pressure, but I’m confident that you’re able to make the best, most nuanced decision.”