“Yes, just give me a minute,” she says, opening her door and allowing me inside.
I wait as she deposits her leftovers into her miniature fridge. She flattens out her pants before sitting, twisting in her chair to face me.
“How was Darcy in class today?” she asks, folding her hands together on the desk.
“A bit testy,” I say, thinking of how much she reminded me of someone else. “I was dreading seeing her, really. I thought she might be despondent, defiant. She didn’t do any of her assignments.”
Of course, it didn’t bother me she didn’t do her work. She has more on her mind than completing worksheets. However, I think her refusal to participate says a lot about where she is mentally.
“That’s a normal reaction for girls in her situation. They’ve lost control in a horrendous way, so they’re trying to take it back any way they can. It wouldn’t surprise me if her attitude gets worse in coming weeks.”
“I understand,” I say. “Have you talked to her today?”
“I have,” Pam says, looking down. “I think today has been tougher than she expected. I wish the parents weren’t so insistent about her completing the semester.”
“What do you think about the essay?” I ask, having waited long enough to hear Pam’s response.
“I find it very concerning,” she says. She reaches into a folder on her desk and retrieves the paper. “I can’t figure out why a student would write this considering what happened. I think all our students are too mature to view something like this as a joke. I’m wondering if it’s not more a cry for attention.”
“If someone wanted attention, I think they would have put their name on the paper.”
“You’re right,” she says, scanning the page again. “Maybe it’s a way for a student to work through their grief.”
“Look at the POV, Pam. It’s written from the perspective of the attacker. It’s like someone is reliving the moment, and they left it in the stack of essays because they wanted someone to read it. They wanted me to read it.”
“I understand,” she says, putting down the paper. “You mentioned you think Zoey Peterson might have been involved. Can you tell me why you think that?”
“Well, she was in the computer lab. And she’s rubbed me the wrong way since she got here—”
“Rubbed you the wrong way, how?” Pam interrupts.
“Just little things. Saying inappropriate stuff in class. When we were reading The Crucible, she made a remark about girls crying out for attention. And that was after Darcy’s attack.”
“Huh,” Pam looks away, then back at me. “It’s odd to hear you say that. All of her other teachers have said nothing but positive things about her.”
“Yeah, I know all about Marge and the chemistry test,” I say, frustratedly. “She’s a smart kid, obviously. But there’s just something off about her.”
“It’s hard to be the new kid at school, especially a school like this where everyone is so cliquey. She seems to have got along fine with everyone.”
“Well, there was the knife incident,” I remind her.
“I think that was, perhaps, blown out of proportion. I don’t think we can necessarily hold it against her.”
I’m not sure what’s changed about Pam since this morning, but something has. Then, she seemed willing to hear what I had to say. Now it’s like I’m playing defense. One… two… three.
“There’s not a glaring incident which makes her look bad, I see that,” I say. “But there’s a bunch of tiny details which, when put together, form a red flag.”
“What else?” she asks. Despite her skepticism, Pam wants to know more. I sense she wants to believe me, but it’s not like I can tell her why I’m so convinced. No one at Victory Hills knows about Brian, and, at this point, I’m not sure if the connection would help or hurt my cause.
“I saw her with Darcy Moore at the dance,” I say. “It looked like the two of them were arguing.”
“When at the dance?”
“I don’t know. Just at the dance.”
“Marge Helton said Darcy was with Adam most of the night.”
“Yeah, I saw her with Adam, too,” I say. “But you know Darcy, she hops around from one person to the next.” I stop myself, realizing I sound like I’m shaming her, and that’s not my intention. “You know what I mean, right? It was a dance. There were a lot of people interacting with one another.”
“Yes, I understand. Which is why I’m wondering what makes you so convinced Zoey Peterson is the one who hurt Darcy. You said yourself she talked to several people.”
“Because of everything else. Her behavior and the knife and the fact she’s new to the school. It looked like there was something going on between them at the dance. What if Zoey got upset about something and then sought revenge at the party?”
“It’s a possibility, although we’ve never had an incident like this involving two girls,” she says, staring at her desk. “Here’s the thing. I discussed the essay with Principal Bowles. He’s not convinced it proves anything.”
Pam’s skepticism makes sense now. She’s already addressed the matter with Bowles, and he shot me down. She’s trying to break the news gently. I’ve experienced this before, people thinking I’m wrong. Believing I’m crazy or irrational. Refusing to see the evidence right in front of them.
“That shouldn’t surprise either one of us, Pam,” I say, trying to sound calm. “You know how Bowles is. He’s not going to willingly admit there is an attacker roaming the halls.”
“I agree,” she says. “I don’t think Bowles has handled Darcy’s situation properly, but I felt obligated to tell him.”
“What was his theory?”
“He thinks it’s a crude joke. Someone trying to fan the flames of hysteria. He pulled up the camera footage to see if anyone outside of your classes entered the computer lab that day, but no one did. He assumes it’s someone who got bored, typed it up and wanted to cause a big fuss out of nothing.”
“If the cameras confirm my students were
