The headmaster himself was a short, squat man with droopy green eyes and a fringe of reddish hair circling his bald head. I took a seat in the chair opposite his desk, and gave him my best Harper Jane Price smile. “You wanted to see me, Headmaster? Is this about SGA?”

In a way, it was.

His face folded with concern as he leaned over his desk. “Harper, I understand that you’re very committed to this school and to your studies. But perhaps you’ve overextended yourself.”

“I . . . what?” The leather chair squeaked under me as I sat up straighter.

He pulled out a manila folder and began paging through its contents. “According to your teachers, your grades have been slipping. And you’ve been tardy to class . . . let’s see . . . three times in the past few weeks?”

Okay, so yes, I had gotten a B on my last history test, and I turned in one paper—one—late in English. As for the tardies, the first time had been after the janitor’s closet with David. The second had been because I thought I felt that David’s-in-danger feeling, but actually, I just hadn’t eaten breakfast. The third time had been because David texted me that he’d seen some weird dude lurking outside the school, but it had been the new lawn guy.

Not like I could tell Headmaster Dunn any of that. “I had female troubles.”

But even that, the Gold Standard Excuse to Give to Male Teachers, didn’t work. Headmaster Dunn went on like I hadn’t said anything. “I think it’s possible you’re suffering from stress.”

“I am not stressed!” My fingers dug into the sides of the chair, clutching so hard I was surprised I didn’t tear a gash in the leather.

He might have believed me if the words hadn’t come out in a hysterical shriek.

As it was, he heaved a huge sigh. “In your best interest, Harper, I’m removing you from the SGA.”

“You’re . . . you’re what?”

“Also, I’m going to advise Coach Henderson to give you a break from cheerleading until next semester.”

“But it’ll be over next sem—”

Headmaster Dunn’s jowls wobbled as he shook his head. “And I think the Committee for Academic Honesty can do without you, at least until Christmas.”

Now I was making high-pitched whimpering sounds.

I watched him write down and subsequently cross out every single activity I did for the Grove. Future Business Leaders of America? Gone. Key Club? Gone. Annual Christmas bake sale chairperson? Crossed through twice.

“There,” he said with satisfaction once he was done erasing my entire life. “Now see? You’ll feel so much better.”