Page 75 of The Game Is Afoot

He snaps his fingers and points at me, impressed. “I didn’t think of that. But how should I approach her?”

“Well, definitely don’t pull her in here and stare at her all weird like you did to me, becausethatwas a failure. I would frame it more as…you want to hear her concerns more? I think if you give her enough time to talk instead of cutting her off, she’ll show you just how mad she is, all on her own.”

“That’s good. That’s actually good.” He grabs one of the papers from his desk and clicks a pen, ready to take notes. “Maybe let’s…role-play this? So I can make sure I get the words right.”

I’m about to continue, but the annoyance comes raring back, knocking me over like a bat to the head because I didn’t get the message before. What am I doing? Principal Smith isnota good guy, and he went out of his way to make me feel small when I came to him with my concerns last time. He didmuchworse to Corinne. Why am I sitting here giving him my labor for free, when he made it extremely clear before that he didn’t want it? Yes, I want to make sure that Knoll keeps its after-school programs, but I don’t need one more thing on my plate right now. Last night showed me that I have plenty.

“I think you can figure it out.” I stand up and take one big step away from my chair so I don’t backtrack. “You made it very clear this was your school to run and you didn’t want me butting in.”

His brow furrows. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but I beat him to it. “And I think you’ll find that if you cancel all extracurriculars, you’ll have an even bigger fight from the parents. In fact, maybe I should make a post about how you’re considering it on the Facebook group right now, so we can see what they have to say?”

With that I stroll out of his office, feeling nice and smug. In my head, I look like an early-aughts pop star, strutting at the end of a music video as flames erupt behind me. If my hairwasn’t up in a puff, I would flip it. But that feeling is quickly replaced with icy dread creeping down my neck once I see who’s waiting in the front office.

It’s Bethany, sitting in one of the two plastic chairs. Her eyes are glossy, and her lips are pulled into a bravely suffering smile that I know she’s perfected with practice because it’s all over her Instagram feed.

Why is she here? Is she meeting with Principal Smith, too? Oh my god…does that mean—isshethe other parent that complained about Mr. Forest? Could she be responsible for his code brown?Poison!Which means this is the same MO. This could be the last piece of evidence I need to convince the detectives she’s the one who did this.

But just as fast I realize, no, her Dakota is definitely not in the show. I would have seen her at pickup or when I snuck into the auditorium. I feel deflated with defeat.

Our eyes meet, and the only sign that she’s the one who sent me a threatening text is a slight twitch in her jaw. But then the tears that were brimming at her lids spill over in two perfect parallel lines down her cheeks, covering up the evil that I know is lurking underneath.

“Ah, Mrs. Bowman. Welcome.” Principal Smith stands at his door behind me. He pulls at his collar, clearly uncomfortable with her display of emotion. “Why don’t you come on in? And—not to worry—I can tell you already that Knoll Elementary will be proud to donate to your cause with our Fun Run funds. Let’s just discuss the details.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.” She gestures to the tears on her face as she stands up and moves toward his office. “It just means so much to me.”

My jaw drops. First the Clover Scouts, and now Knoll? Thisgreedy woman knows no bounds, and everyone keeps falling for it because, why? She can cry on demand? White-woman tears really are the most powerful thing on this earth.

The door clicks behind them, and almost immediately, Ms. Lilliam heaves out a long sigh. I look at her and she’s shaking her head and tutting to herself. It’s clear she wants me to ask her about whatever it is, and I’m curious. But I’m also not trying to risk another play-by-play of Mr. Forest’s bowel movements.

“Oh, Mavis! Wonderful! I was hoping to run into you,” a voice calls from down the hallway that attaches to the main office. My stomach lurches in momentary panic. Oh no. Has Mrs. Tennison finally tracked me down? I ordered a George Washington costume off Amazon, and it’ll be here tomorrow. But I’m gonna need at least one more day after that to scuff it up a bit, take out a few stitches, so it looks like I actually made it.

Before I can bolt, though, Mrs. Nelson appears next to me, a smile on her face. And I turn the panic down, just a couple notches.

“I talked to your dad a couple weeks ago for his podcast.”

Okay, never mind. Panic back.

“That’s, um, great. Listen, I’m running late to a meeting.” Hopefully she doesn’t ask for any more details, because my brain is definitely too scattered to make them up.

“Oh, then just very quickly,” she continues, “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed speaking with him. He asked such insightful questions and really…helped me to process my feelings? I didn’t think I would get so into everything that happened. But he made it such a safe place. He’s very good at what he does.”

“Wait, my dad’s podcast? Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?” Because what she’s describing doesn’t fit in with the sensationalized interviews I’ve seen him chasing with his mic.

“I have to admit, I got a little teary-eyed, talking about, well…” She clears her throat and nods to Principal Smith’s door. I had wondered if they were still doing their thing, now that Mrs. Nelson and her husband are getting divorced, but the look on her face—anger mixed with deep pain—makes it clear they’re not. “His questions and…hisempathyhelped me to forgive myself, because I feel like I understand more now why I made the choices I did.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ms. Lilliam come down from her perch behind the desk and move closer to us. She starts tidying around the plastic chairs and the table between them, but it’s clear she’s just trying to eavesdrop.

“That’s, um, great.” I lower my voice, hoping Mrs. Nelson will notice and follow suit. “Again, though, I need to clarify here. My dad?”

“Uh-huh. He made me realize that all of that nonsense about a twin flame”—she shoots another venomous look to Principal Smith’s door—“it was just an easy escape from everything else I didn’t want to deal with. And it’s part of my pattern, of searching for validation in others when really I can only find it in myself.” I feel the need to pull up a picture of him.You’re talking about this guy. Elijah Miller?“After the interview, he even helped me apply to a fellowship for teacher librarians at the Library of Congress this summer, so I can work on building my own identity outside of my relationships.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize…”

But I guess this does fit in with the man I know, the man who raised me. He’s always been kind and generous, with a deep love for his community.We are each other’s business. That’s why his true crime podcast turn was so jarring. Yeah, we like ourselves someDatelineandLaw & Order, but I never expected him to be the one turning people’s trauma into content. It looks like…hemight be doing something different? Helping to heal the same pain he is documenting?

“Anyway, please pass on my thanks to him. And I can’t wait to listen to the episode when he releases it.”

She waves and walks back down the hallway, and I’m left blinking after her. Could I have misjudged him here? Maybe I should have listened first, asked more questions? But he reallywaswildin’ out with that mic everywhere, so it’s not totally my fault.

---