Chapter Two

"W-what's going on?" Everyone seemed so solemn, which made sense since there had been a fire. But my survival instinct told me there was more going on here than that. And likely something I wasn't going to like. "Is this about replacing my computer and other things that were in my locker?" I didn't for a second believe that was the case, but a girl can try.

"This is not a joking matter." The police officer's voice dripped ice. "So, what can you tell us about the fire?"

My jaw dropped. "I can tell you that whoever did it managed to set my hair on fire in the process." I held up the charred bit near my chin. "And that they burned my laptop and all my completed assignments." Because don't think I was not going to swear I had done everything early! "And they are likely the same ones who set those other fires and got away with it. What's next? Someone getting hurt…or worse?"

"Is that why you did it?" the fire chief asked, his voice low and intense. "Did you hope to murder your fellow students?"

Whoa. Accusing me of starting fires was bad enough, but attempted murder?

"I think we need to call my parents." Because I was not going to tolerate this with nobody on my side.

"We will," the principal said. "But we thought we'd give you a chance to confess first."

I snapped my lips tightly closed. Confess? I knew railroading when I heard it.

"Well."

I did the tik-a-lock thing at my lips. It might have been juvenile, but it beat saying anything that I had on my mind.

And so, we all sat there for a good half hour while my parents arrived separately from their jobs and rushed into the office as fast as if their hair was on fire, too. Dad dropped to his knees beside my chair.

"Are you all right, honey?" He stroked my hair and found the charred part then stood up and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Yes, Dad." I swallowed hard, although my muscles had halfway relaxed just because they were there with me.

"What the hell happened? Can you not even keep our children from being set on fire in this pathetic excuse for a school?"

"Mr. Johannson, you don't understand. We think—"

If my dad had opinions, they had no idea how little Mom would care about theirs. She planted her hands on the desk, managing to include all of my accusers in one fierce stare. "You think what? That my daughter who has never so much been accused of tardiness decided to set all these fires you had zero evidence for until her locker was on fire? Did you see her with a match? A lighter? A flame thrower maybe?" She drew a breath and then met my dad's gaze and gave her head a small shake.

Dad nodded. I couldn't read their communication, as I often could not, but they had been married a long time and had almost a secret language between them. In this case, my father patted my shoulder and said, "Go out and wait in the hallway, Minx. Your mom and I will be right along."

"Ummm, okay." I stood and left, glancing back to see my parents standing side by side far enough back from the desk to take in all the authority types present.

"Out, Minx," Mom ordered without even turning around. "We have some things to say."

I did leave, but instead of heading for the hallway, I just didn't go past the outer office, instead pressing my ear to the door. I needed to know what was being said. Mom and Dad were pretty strict as parents went, but I never doubted they had my back.

Unfortunately, the door was thicker than it looked, and I couldn't make out much, but it was clear that my folks were reading the riot act to those who were trying to pin the fire on me. I heard stammering responses from the others, but only a few minutes later, the door jerked open and I almost fell inside. Mom gave me a stern look then took my hand. "Come on, sweetie. We're out of here."

"Do you have anything to pick up, or did the negligence of this taxpayer-supported institution destroy everything you had here?" Sounded like Dad was still on a roll.

"No, it's all gone."

"We'll send them a bill." Mom pulled me in for a hug.

I sat in the back seat, waiting for an update, but my parents had apparently said their piece and weren't ready to fill me in. But judging from what they had expressed, I wondered if they were going to have me transferred for the rest of my senior year. It had just started, so maybe that wouldn't be too bad. Hopefully it would be far from the arsonist who occupied this campus.

About halfway home, Dad pulled into the parking lot behind his favorite diner. "It's a little early for lunch, but they have breakfast all day, and that's what I'm having anyway," he announced, opening his door. Mom shrugged and we all piled out and headed for the small restaurant with the great food. At this time, it was almost empty of customers, and a perfect time for a heart-to-heart talk with my parents.

At least I believed that was what Dad had in mind—not that he'd give up on the chance for his favorite chicken-fried steak platter. And as soon as the waitress took our orders and went to put them up on the spinning thingy, my father cleared his throat. "We've decided to send you to another school. This one can no longer serve your needs."

"Okay. If you say so." I had already guessed that might happen, but something he said made no sense. "Needs?" How were mine different than any other high school senior's?

"There are some things you need to know."

"They wanted to suspend you without any proof of who lit the fires." He toyed with his spoon, stirring more sugar into his coffee. "And we are going to remove you from the school, effective immediately."

"I didn't do it, Dad."