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By the last appointment, my patience had been worn thin. I’d even used my truth-seeking power to ease more information out of them about the attack. They had nothing but praise for Benjamin, and little to say about any of the other victims or any other clues. I’d even prodded about Clave, but no one had anything to say beyond the fact that Clave was strict and up to code.
Most people that came in for counseling were downright obsessed with Benjamin Castile.
It weirded me out. Maybe he was a cult leader. Maybe he was just nice. The only thing they ever talked about besides him were the pressures of the tests.
Apparently, Hartfall was a hard-ass school.
There was one qualifying test every month.
Fail even one of those, and you were expelled.
There’s a range as to how many mediocre grades students are allowed to earn, and it’s all calculated by percentages. If I were a student and took five tests for five different classes, and got three As and two Ds, I’d be expelled as well.
I’d tried to take notes to learn about the school grading system but got a little lost. It wouldn’t help to ask the students for guidance, since I’m supposed to be the one helping them. In their eyes, at least.
They may mostly be rich bastards from legacy families or have had tutors teach them to within an inch of their lives for the last decade. Or, they could be students like Ember, here on scholarship or pure talent.
But one thing was for certain; every student was expected to perform as near to perfect as possible.
My final student walked in. She observed me in my natural habitat, from my feet kicked up on the filing cabinet, my hair tied up on my head in a disaster bun, the yawn I was in the middle of, and the half-finished burrito on my desk.
“Sit,” I said.
Ember crossed her arms. “You’re not very good at this job, are you?”
“My politeness decreases with each passing minute. Sue me.”
She plopped in the client chair and tossed her long magenta locks behind her. “So. We’re going to pretend like you aren’t Gray Wilder, foster child of the Kaya family, adopted since she was ten, and definitely not qualified to be a community Whatever You Are?”
I bit into my burrito, feeling the numbness of social exhaustion. Why were students so whiny? “I’ll get you kicked out of this school and silenced.”
Her smug expression paled. “What?”
“I’m here on a job. That’s all you need to know. If you get in the way, you can join your little friends in their dumb-fuck schools and never see these halls again. Sound good?”
“Why are you such a bitch? I didn’t come here to rat you out!”
“Should have had a better intro, then. And close the damn door.”
Her vine snaked out and pushed the door shut while she glared daggers. “So much for being a student advocate.”
Gods, I needed coffee. When was the last time I’d had a coffee? Three? Might as well have been an eternity ago. “What do you have to say, Emilia?”
“It’s Ember.”
“Alright, Amber.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. You have such funny jokes.”
“Well?” I pressed. “You’re the only thing standing between me and a long night alone with my food and my TV. Out with it.”
“I’ll have you know that I need you to drop the Cole situation.”
My ears perked up. “What does that mean?”
She glanced away, nervous and trying to hide out of pride.
“Ember, what does that mean? What stupid shit did he do?”
