Page 167 of Midnight Curfew

I enter the library, finding Vincent sitting at the table and studying my blueprints. Jerome hovers.

Vincent looks up. “What are these?” he asks me.

Taking a sip, I set my cup down. I texted them to stop by this morning.

“Mock-ups,” I say. “I’ve been pondering the logistics of expanding the campus.”

Stopping on Vincent’s left side, I join Jerome in gazing down at the plans I had drawn up. I couldn’t get it off my mind after speaking to Savanna Winslow last week.

I start pointing out the features of a new Marymount. “Reconstruction to an eight-lane track, renovating the fields and adding courts, auditorium upgrades for the theater performances, two three-story dormitories, and a dining hall…”

Jerome pops his head up, eyeing me, but I don’t stop.

“And a stadium with permanent concessions and restrooms.”

“Shit,” Vincent mumbles.

Jerome sounds breathless. “This is going to cost…”

“Fifty million,” I reply.

At least.

We can get a lot of it through corporations if we contract to use their tech, classroom materials, sports equipment, and maybe some minor advertising. Although, I’d prefer St. Carmen businesses sponsor the football games, theater productions, et cetera in exchange for us posting their banners.

But…all of that is a long way off.

“Do we want this?” Jerome asks me.

I won’t tell them about Savanna—and all the other kids in school now who are presently the same age Sophia was when this town spat her out. Giving them a whole staff of adults—teachers, coaches, advisers—to keep them safe and set the right example is a step in the right direction. Of course, that means the adults have to be heavily vetted and handpicked, but I’ll enjoy every second of that. I love democracy in theory, but not when it comes to this town.

“Think about it,” I tell him. “Students from around the world coming here. Alumni the school can call on when we need, years down the road.”

Vincent nods. “Boosters.”

“A future of endless possibilities,” I add.

Our network of resources and contacts would expand by a factor of ten. There’d be no one with more power than us.

Than me.

Of course, this means students could potentially be coming here from out of town, out of state, and across the world, and it’s a whole new set of challenges, dealing with new influences and families, but I never expect anything to go smoothly.

They stare at the blueprints—the quick mock-up conveys only the merest idea of how the campus buildings would look once everything is constructed, but thankfully we have enough land. If necessary, we can always expand into the woods behind the school.

“We’re going to need to double the size of the parking lot,” Vincent points out.

I smile, taking that as them coming on board.

“And move the cemetery?” Jerome points to the spot of land near the woods. “You know how hard that’s going to be?”

Not hard, per se. Just time-consuming. The red tape required to relocate graves.

“The community won’t like moving family graves,” Jerome warns. “The history—”

“What’s this?”

We all look up, seeing Milo enter the room. He struts over, his black hair perfectly coiffed, his collar open, his cologne flooding the library.