When we leave, my brothers flank me on either side.
“Who do you think was behind this?” Finn asks, his arms swinging rigidly.
“Only one person would be this stupid.” I fish out my phone from my pocket and show them the video. If it was just about Cadence, they wouldn’t have sent a video. Someone wanted to make a point to me too.”
“Christa,” Zane hisses.
Finn clamps a hand on my shoulder, trying to stop my march down the hallway. “Let’s go to the practice room. Figure out our next step.”
“I already know what my next step is.”
Zane looks worried. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry.” I toss a cold glance over my shoulder. “All I’m going to do is talk.”
“We’ll come with you.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll take the rap for this one alone.” I jut my chin at the opposite hallway. “Principal Harris will be on our tail if all three of us miss any more classes. You two are late because of me. Don’t give him another reason to screw us off.”
Finn shakes his head.
Zane doesn’t move a muscle either.
I huff and nudge my brothers in the opposite direction. “Go.”
They leave reluctantly. I watch to make sure they’re not going to double back and sneak up on me like they did at the pool. Even though I was grateful for the assist earlier, I really don’t want them interfering this time.
Storming down the hallway, I stop in front of first period Lit. Miss Jamieson is at the white board, talking about Shakespeare. I knock on the door out of respect for her and then I barge in.
She stops talking abruptly. The big brown eyes that Zane took one look at and fell hard for blink up at me.
“Mr. Cross, can I help you?”
My eyes sweep the room until they land on Christa’s smug face. She’s wearing a pink shirt under her sweater vest and a stupid looking beret.
“The principal needs to see Christa,” I say through gritted teeth.
Usually, I would just growl out what I want and most teachers wouldn’t care enough to stop me.
But I know better than to try that with Miss Jamieson. Even if it did work, she probably wouldn’t stick around Redwood Prep if she thought she’d lost the respect of her students. And then my twin would kill me.
“The principal?” Miss Jamieson raises both eyebrows, as if she’s not sure she believes me.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” She makes a go ahead gesture. “Christa, you may go.”
Christa and her friends exchange knowing looks and giggles as she climbs to her feet. Grabbing her purse, she swings it at her side and follows me out the door.
“What’s going on, Dutch?” she asks, but her voice is a little too giddy for the question to sound casual.
I say nothing.
We’re still too close to the classrooms. I can feels Miss Jamieson’ eyes on me through the windows. She’s a smart lady and she likely smells my BS a mile away. It’s probably why she was able to smell Zane’s too.
Christa smirks up at me. “Enough walking, Dutch. What’s so important that you would pull me out of class?”
I look both ways to make sure we’re in the camera’s blindspot. Then I whirl on her, unleashing the full breadth of my fury in a narrowed gaze.