"Of course," Amara replied.
Brent slid into the seat across from her, keeping his voice low. "Look, this has gone too far. I didn't sign up for lawyers and false accusations."
"Then why are you here?" Yasmin asked skeptically.
"Because I'm done being Chase's puppet." Brent ran a hand through his hair. "They found pot in my locker yesterday. I'm suspended from the basketball team pending investigation."
"And you think Chase planted it?" Amara asked.
"I know he did. It's what he does when people don't fall in line." Brent leaned forward. "Logan's been benched, too. Failed drug test. Except he doesn't do drugs."
"What are you saying?" Yasmin pressed.
"I'm saying Chase is scorching the earth. Anyone who might contradict his version of events is being systematically neutralized." Brent looked directly at Amara. "He's obsessed with taking you down, and he doesn't care who gets caught in the crossfire."
After Brent left, Yasmin shook her head in disbelief. "Do you believe him?"
"Yes," Amara said. "Fear makes people honest."
That afternoon, Amara received a summons to Principal Weston's office. As she navigated the familiar route, she sensed the presence of someone following her—not Chase or his friends, but someone with a heavier tread: security, most likely.
The principal's office smelled of coffee and anxiety. Amara detected three people in the room: Principal Weston, whose nervous finger-tapping she recognized immediately; a woman whose perfume carried notes of expensive sandalwood; and a man who smelled of cologne and authority.
"Ms. James," Principal Weston began. "This is Mr. Williams, Chase's father, and Ms. Harrington, the school board's legal counsel."
"A pleasure," Amara said neutrally.
"Let's dispense with pleasantries." Richard Williams' voice was smooth, practiced—a lawyer's voice. "We're here to discuss a series of troubling incidents."