Frankly, we were lucky we didn’t get arrested. We were only so fortunate because Holden’s mom was the principal, and her fury eclipsed that of all our parents combined. The police seemed largely satisfied by her rage and handed us over without a fuss.

Our fate was relinquished to the Wrath of the Durden.

“Ezra and I didn’t break and enter!” Holden protested. “I mean, we didn’t break anything, at least.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” said Principal Durden. “You didn’t break anything.” She rotated her cannon-like gaze to Wynonna and Imogen sitting beside us. Together, the four of us sat in a straight line in front of her desk. Like targets in a shooting gallery. “At least you boys didn’t break the window of the girls’ bathroom to get in.”

“It was an accident!” said Wynonna. “The window was already unlocked. I’m sooooooo sorry if I happen to have a bigger ass than Imogen. I didn’t ask for this thing, you know.”

“Oh, hush,” said Imogen. “Your butt is fine.”

“Nobody is here to talk about your butt, Miss Jones,” said Principal Durden. “Having a big butt isn’t a criminal offense. Using your big butt to break the window of the girls’ bathroom, however, is. And unfortunately, Miss Klutz, you are an accomplice to Wynonna’s butt.”

Imogen’s long, gangly form seemed to be imploding on itself in utter shame. Wynonna, meanwhile, was slouching back in her chair, arms folded, blatantly manspreading into Holden’s leg room. In open defiance, Holden was attempting to manspread even farther—despite having the shortest legspan of the four of us.

“You, on the other hand,” said Principal Durden, returning her attention to Holden, “stole my master key, made two copies, and gave one of them to your best friend for his birthday. And, of course, I had to be told this by the police. Am I missing anything?”

“Um, yeah,” said Holden. “How about the part where we called nine-one-one and saved Ezra’s life? We’re basically heroes!”

Wynonna snorted. Principal Durden shook her head, probably wondering which part of her genetic code was responsible for Holden’s grasp on reality. Surely this was Mr. Durden’s fault.

“Right, Ezra?” said Holden. “Tell her!”

Oh boy. Okay. This was happening.

Imogen looked at me. Though I refused to make eye contact, I was well aware of her in my periphery. I felt her gaze. There was a soft but intense pressure to it—like Darth Vader slowly choking me with the Force.

Don’t say anything stupid, Ezra. Be cool. Think cool thoughts.

“I’ve never known a greater trio of heroes,” I said. “If it were up to me, I’d award each of them a Congressional Medal of Honor. Maybe a Nobel Peace Prize for them to share.”

There was a fine line between “cool sarcasm” and “sounding like a complete idiot.” I may have crossed that line.