The Academy - Forgiveness and Permission (Year One, Book Four) (33 page)

“Mr. McCoy,” a familiar voice sounded from the hallway. “Could I bother you for a second?”

Mr. McCoy glared at me, looking like he wanted to tell me something but now with someone else around, wouldn’t admit it out loud.

He turned away from me, addressing the speaker. “Yes, Dr. Green?”

“I’ve got something interesting. I think you should see it.”

“Not now, I’m in the middle of something.”

Dr. Green appeared in the hallway just in front of the door. “Oh,” he said, glancing in and spotting me, but the surprised look appeared fake. He’d known I was there. “Sorry, hate to interrupt.”

“You do have that habit,” Mr. McCoy said.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Dr. Green asked me.

As he said it, the bell rang.

“I believe you’re due for a music lesson, aren’t you?” Dr. Green continued, and his eyes telling me what I needed to know. Head there now. I suspected Mr. Blackbourne was waiting for me.

I took only one more glance at Mr. McCoy before walking around them, marching quickly down the hallway.

Escaping.

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T
he hallways were jumbled with other students transitioning between third and fourth period classes. Since the guys weren’t next to me, I paid special attention, kept my head down, and took the shortest route to class.

I was shuffling in with others inside a narrow hallway when a sharp bump of an elbow hit me in my breast. The pain radiated through my shoulder. I clutched at my chest where I’d been hit.

“Oops,” called a smoky female voice.

I straightened, turning, caught off-guard by a familiar face when at the moment, with the lighting changed and my thoughts still stuck on the encounter with the principal, it took me a moment to recognize her.

But there was no mistaking those sharp eyes that spliced into me, and that raven dark hair.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you,” Jade said, although her tone made it seem like she wasn’t sorry and she had seen me.

I removed my hand from my chest. “Pardon me,” I said, willing to take the blame just to escape her. It was how I dealt with anyone at my old school wanting to cause trouble. Excusing myself and bowing my head and running. It was a rare occurrence but it usually worked.

Jade stepped into my path. “What’s wrong, sugar? In a hurry?”

“I have to get to class.”

She smiled, but it was like looking at the mouth of a cobra, hypnotic and deadly. “Tell North I said hello, won’t you?” She turned away, heading down the hall.

I pushed her out of my mind, but a second thought had me wondering. She was on the list of names associated with Mr. Hendricks. Was this really a random encounter, or was she pinned with following me? Or North?

♥♥♥

N
orth and Nathan were waiting outside the door to Music Room B.

“What kept you?” North asked, his voice a little gruffer than normal, like he’d been using it more lately. Or yelled a lot more.

“Jade ... uhm,” I said. I stumbled for the rest but realized it probably wasn’t important right now.

“Who?” North asked.

I waved my hand in the air. “Nothing. Crowded hallway. Sorry.”

He made a face but opened the door.

“Should we go in with her?” Nathan asked.

“I’ll go in,” North said. “You go to class.”

“Both of you will go to class,” Mr. Blackbourne emerged in the doorway. “Now.”

North straightened. “We need to—”

“Appear completely normal. That’s an order.”

North grunted, glaring but turned, stalking off. Nathan shifted a short look to me but retreated to the hallway to go to class.

Mr. Blackbourne focused on me. “Miss Sorenson.”

“Mr. Blackbourne.”

He directed me inside. I dropped my bag and violin case into one of the chairs.

“It was an interesting choice of topic to discuss with Mr. Hendricks,” he started. He collected his hands behind his back. It was only the slightest lift of one of his eyebrows that told me his mood in an otherwise barren face. There was just a spark of curiosity. “What made you think of it?”

“I wanted to know,” I said. I plucked my phone out of my bra in full view. If he’d been watching, he knew where it was, anyway. I flipped through the phone, finding the list of people and showed it to him. “He’s toying with you.”

Mr. Blackbourne collected my phone, studying the image. “Students and teachers.”

“He knows that you know people are following you. He’s happy about it. It’s like he ...” I paused, knowing the answer, but unsure how to phrase it.

“Wants to keep us contained,” he said. “If he can’t figure out what we’re up to, he’ll make it impossible for us to work. He does it by not allowing us the privacy needed to do whatever he suspects we’re up to.”

I tapped my finger against the side of my chin to think. “So he planted people to play babysitter. And if you did happen to do something, at least he’d have a witness. It isn’t Ms. Johnson, but McCoy has participated.”

“Was it something that Mr. Hendricks said?” he asked. “How do you know one is McCoy?”

“McCoy told me. Well, he didn’t say so, but he ... I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he is, though. And there’s someone else, too. At least watching Kota.”

“Kota did mention you pointed out the differences in the cars. You were correct. They were different, something we didn’t notice. It was a good catch.”

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have drawn attention to it. I didn’t have anything to offer.”

“Which is exactly how it should be,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “Just keep your eyes and ears open.”

I swiped my fingertips across the material of my skirt, trying to remember what else to tell him. There seemed to be so much. I glanced back at my book bag, retreated to it for the slip of paper. “There was this, too.”

“Of course,” he said, as if he expected this. He flipped over the paper, examining the indentions. “It appears to be monetary figures.”

“It was next to a document about insurance on the football team. I took photographs of the page he was looking at.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up a millimeter. “You’re becoming quite the little team member, Miss Sorenson.”

Was that a compliment? I blushed, unsure how to respond.

He held up my cell phone. “Do you mind if I transfer these to my phone?”

I shook my head. Of course I didn’t mind. I expected him to do something with it, even if he just told me they weren’t useful and to throw them away.

He pulled his phone out, a similar iPhone, and started pushing buttons on it, and mine.

I watched as he worked, rubbing the material of my skirt between my fingertips. “Mr. Blackbourne?”

“Hm?” he said, still concentrating on the phones.

“Why did Mr. McCoy come back?”

“He made an excuse to Mr. Hendricks to return to his office. He claimed to have forgotten his cell phone, which clearly wasn’t the case.”

“Do you think he knows about my parents? Since he’s watching Kota?”

“He hasn’t mentioned it.”

I smoothed my skirt again when I realized I was probably wrinkling it. I didn’t know how to say this next part. It felt like something I should have said to Kota or someone else. “What’s to stop him from coming to my house? Or stopping me in the street if I’m walking to Kota’s?

His eyebrows lifted first, as if he heard the question but for a split second, was surprised by what it meant. His head lifted from the phones, and he gazed at me. He must have been calculating something entirely different and suddenly faced a question he hadn’t been prepared to answer. “When I asked you to keep away from Mr. McCoy, I meant in any capacity, not just in school.”

“I know,” I said. “I mean...” Except I didn’t know how else to explain it. What happened if there was a night when Kota or anyone else couldn’t spend the night and I got a surprise visit from Mr. McCoy? I knew I was just throwing out guesses. Before it had been a possibility, but he was still a school figurehead and didn’t really know where I lived, or at least I thought I could believe that.

Now Mr. McCoy wanted something from me, and he’d been on my street. I felt that little bubble of safety had burst.

Mr. Blackbourne’s eyes darkened slightly. “Miss Sorenson, I’ve told you not to worry about it.”

“Sorry,” I said softly.

The corner of his mouth tilted down. He stepped back, planting my phone and his on top of the piano. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, shedding it and folding it over the top of the piano bench. He started undoing his red tie.

“What are we doing?” I asked, stunned to witness him undressing.

He hooked fingers into the knot of his tie and wedged it open until he could slide it off. “You are going to show me what Kota taught you this weekend.”

My cheeks heated. “Here?” I bit back the question that tickled my lips: With him?

Mr. Blackbourne nodded his head sharply. He unbuttoned the cuff sleeves of his shirt and rolled them up toward his elbows. “The way to build confidence in cases like this is knowing how to handle yourself in any situation.” He stepped forward, planting his hands on his hips. “If I were Mr. McCoy, what’s your first action?”

I touched the base of my throat with my fingertips. “To run.”

“Correct. Where?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re in school, where would you run to?”

“I ... suppose to your office.”

He nodded again. “If you’re close to it, you’re welcome to use it. If you know where I am or anyone else on my team should be, you need to find them. If neither are convenient, running out into the open within a crowd is your third option. Don’t corner yourself, and don’t run blindly.” He circled me and positioned himself with his hands outstretched. “And if I were Mr. McCoy and I were to come after you, what do you do?”

I wavered, trying to still my shaking. I gingerly lifted my hands. This was completely wrong. I couldn’t swing at Mr. Blackbourne.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he said. “If Mr. McCoy won’t let you escape, what’s your first move?”

I made fists and swung slowly, like I’d done with Kota. I aimed for his stomach though.

Mr. Blackbourne stood by until my fist made contact with his stomach. Even with using my knuckles, I felt a hardened body, much like the others. None of the Academy guys were lazy. “I understand your hesitation,” he said, “but if you think you feel uneasy striking at me, you’ll feel doubly so when it’s the real thing. It’s going to be incredibly uncomfortable. You’re taught to respect superiors, and Mr. McCoy is not only an adult, he’s supposed to be someone in charge of you, your vice principal. He’s violated that trust. We need to break your hesitation.”

My body rattled through my core. “What if...”

Mr. Blackbourne’s hand shot out, capturing my chin. The move was so sudden that once he held me between his fingers, I jerked my head back. He held on, his steel eyes bearing down on me. “I’m not a psychic, Miss Sorenson. If there’s one thing the Academy tries to break from students, it’s to not to play ‘what if’ games.”

I held my breath, wanting to blink and look away but fearing to do so. I wanted to appear brave, even though I felt tiny and wanted to hide. “I’ll try to be better,” I said.

“You will be better,” he said, exuding the confidence I wish I could have believed was inside of me. His fingers softened against my chin, but didn’t release me. “You’ll get there. I promise, it’ll happen. You’ll feel more secure with time. You don’t have to hide behind us. You’ll stand next to us.”

The look in his eyes told me this was more than just about Mr. McCoy. This was part of his promise, their promise, to bring me into this group they’d created.

“Now,” he said. “When you face off with Mr. McCoy, if it ever does come to that, your job is to run, and if you can’t run, you will...” He paused with intention, his eyes telling me to finish.

“I’ll incapacitate him until I can run.”

“Which means?” he asked.

“Hitting him in the stomach or neck, or whatever is needed.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “And?”

I stopped. I wasn’t sure what he was asking. “And when he’s down, run away?”

“You’re not wrong,” he said, “but if you need to, you should call for help. Scream if necessary.”

“Scream?”

He nodded, releasing my chin to position his hands on his hips. “If you’re in a situation like this, hopefully you aren’t alone, but if you are, you should draw as much attention as possible. More than likely he’ll retreat if someone’s witnessing.” He started pacing around me. I stood still, facing the piano, watching him from my peripheral vision. “So if he’s chasing you or trying to keep you in place, you’ll...”

“Scream and try to run.”

“Correct. Go ahead and scream.”

I swallowed. “Now?”

“Learn to trust me, Miss Sorenson,” he said.

Trust. I opened my mouth, feeling ridiculous. “Help,” I said, although weakly. The potential echo in a music room made me nervous.

“Louder,” Mr. Blackbourne said.

I repeated myself, although a few notches louder than my normal speaking voice.

“You can do better than that,” he said. “Pretend you’re trying to get Kota to hear you. He’s on the second floor. Try to call out to him.”

I sighed, and then took in another deep breath. Maybe if I did it quickly, he’d move on to something else. I didn’t want to draw any more attention today from anyone else. I’d had enough of that already.

I parted my lips, summoned up the nerve, and did my best to cry out for help.

My throat seized on the first syllable. I coughed.

“Keep going,” he said.

I tried again, but my throat closed in the moment I got louder than a mild shout. I dropped my fingers onto my throat, opened my mouth wide and simply tried to get a vowel out between my lips in a screech.

But sounds scratched around my throat, and after only a couple of squeaks, my voice box refused to work.

I blinked in surprise. I tried again, but nothing changed. I looked at Mr. Blackbourne in a panic. I couldn’t shout? Or scream?

Mr. Blackbourne stepped around, motioning with his fingers. “Open your mouth,” he said.

I parted my lips, holding my mouth open.