I got a note to go see the school counselor today. Mr. Grandwell is new. He started two weeks ago and he's got that super-eager energy that only new people have. Once he realizes what a circus he signed up for, he'll lose that youthful vigor in no time.
But for now, I have to tolerate his irksome earnestness. And his questions. I tried to stop him before he even started, but he shut me down quick.
"Mr. Grandwell, I appreciate your interest in me but this is completely unnecessary," I said.
"Call me Jasper," he said.
"No, I'm not going to do that." I called my friends by their first name. We weren't friends. "Mr. Grandwell, I'm not sure what you've been told but I'm doing just fine. Good grades. Excellent test scores. I'll get into college with no trouble."
"Sawyer, let me just stop you now. I'm not here to talk to you about your grades or college applications." He leaned over his desk. "I'm here to talk to you about what happened at the party."
That made me sit up straight. Everyone in town had taken to referring to it as the night of the accident. By acknowledging that party, Grandwell was admitting that he knew there was more to the story than the accident that had been reported in the news.
If he knew about the party, did he also know about what happened in the woods?
"Look Mr. Grandwell. I realize you're new in town and you are still figuring things out. If you're going to get along around here, you probably shouldn't go around asking questions about things you don't understand." I did my best to sound tough and hopefully prevent him from asking any follow up questions.
"I'm here to help you, Sawyer." He was completely unfazed by my attitude. "I understand that last fall there was an accident that killed some of your classmates. You were with them when it happened, and prior to the accident you were all at a party."
"How is this any of your business?" I demanded, changing the subject. "Do you work for the police or something?"
"I work for the school and I'm here to help the students. I can't help the students if I don't know what happened that night in October."
It was a fair question, the problem was that I didn't have the answer. Sure, I had been present when the accident occurred. And yes, I had been at the party. But despite those facts, I still wasn't able to answer his next question.
"Tell me what happened to Justin Fitzpatrick."
17-year-old girl with a deadly secret, special powers, and a sassy attitude.