Rose-Brady sticks her head out of her office and motions for me to come in. As I stand, her gaze falls on Zach, Matt, and the teacher and she raises her eyebrows. “Glenn. What’s going on here?”

Mr. Ames pushes a hand through his short black hair and sighs. “Hi, Principal Rose-Brady. Sorry to bother. I found these guys wrestling in the hallway. I think a chat with you or Principal Kalb is in order.”

If I had to hazard a guess after seeing Matt’s eye closer up, I’d say that they were doing more than wrestling, but the teacher seems to want to downplay whatever actually happened.

“Is that right? Hi, May.” Rose-Brady’s face softens when she sees me, and she steps back to let me pass into her office. I settle into yet another uncomfortable chair in front of her desk. I swear to god, the administration deliberately picked these chairs to torture the people unlucky enough to end up here.

Rose-Brady continues, “I have to discuss something with May, but it should be quick. Glenn, do you mind staying with the boys until Principal Kalb can see them? He should be back in the office any minute. My secretary’s at a dentist appointment, and I’d rather not have them alone in here together after a fight.”

The teacher must nod, because Rose-Brady thanks him, shuts the door, and sits down at her desk. “Thanks for coming, May.”

Did I have a choice? I swallow down the words, because I’m trying out this new thing where I don’t get kicked out of school.

“I wanted to just check in. I’m proud of you for staying out of trouble since you got back to school—you’re obviously really trying, and I’m so happy to see it. I know every single day is hard. Trust me. I do.” She pauses, wiping her eyes. “Last year, I saw you shutting yourself away, and I was so worried. So I’m pleased to watch your progress. That said, I wanted to talk to you about what we have planned to honor the victims of the shooting. As you know, it’s coming up in just over a week.” She looks at me, hesitant, like she’s afraid I might stand up and start screaming right in the middle of her office. I dig my nails into my palm, hard. As hard as I can. Force myself to breathe. Nod. “Anne Kim and her group are helping us put together events to honor the victims, and she told me that you don’t want to take part, which I very much understand—”