“We can certainly enforce school policy.”
“You said it was about the person who took the picture,” Emily said. “Why do you need everybody’s phone?”
“That is enough discussion.”
He pointed toward the plastic basket on Mrs. Gallagher’s desk.
“One at a time.”
The students began reluctantly removing phones from bags and pockets.
Marcus did not move.
He didn’t own one.
His mother had promised him a new phone for his birthday in November, but after the transmission failed in her car three weeks earlier, they had quietly agreed it could wait.
Mrs. Gallagher noticed.
“Where’s yours?”
“I don’t have one.”
She gave him a skeptical smile.
“Convenient.”
Marcus said nothing.
Noah walked toward the basket with an old phone in his hand.
It was cracked across one corner and hadn’t had a working cellular connection in almost a year.
He kept it for music during track practice.
His actual phone remained hidden in his backpack.
He dropped the dead phone into the basket.
Mrs. Gallagher grabbed it.
“This one?”
Noah shrugged.
“It’s my phone.”
She pressed the power button.
The lock screen appeared.
Dr. Whitmore took it from her.
“Passcode.”
“No.”
The principal looked up slowly.
“Noah.”
“My dad bought it.”
“You are on school property.”
“That doesn’t mean you get my passcode.”
For one terrifying second, Noah thought Dr. Whitmore might demand his backpack.
Instead, the principal placed the phone back in the basket.
“Fine. All of you will report to the auditorium while this matter is investigated.”
Marcus frowned.
“All of us?”
“Yes.”
“What about Mrs. Gallagher?”
A few students turned toward the teacher.
Dr. Whitmore ignored the question.
“Marcus, you’re coming to my office.”
Mrs. Gallagher’s confidence returned immediately.
She folded her arms.
Marcus noticed.
That was when he understood something important.
She had been frightened by the photograph.
But she wasn’t frightened of Dr. Whitmore.
Not even a little.
Marcus followed the principal into the hallway.
Behind him, chairs scraped across the floor as the class gathered their belongings.
Noah waited until Mrs. Gallagher turned away.
Then he pulled his real phone from the backpack lining.
There were two notifications.
The first was from the cloud service.
UPLOAD COMPLETE.
The second was from Claire.
CALL ME NOW.
Noah slipped the phone back inside.
For the first time that morning, he smiled.
It lasted less than a second.
Then he followed everyone else into the hall.
Dr. Whitmore’s office looked exactly the way Marcus expected a powerful school administrator’s office to look.
Dark wood shelves.
Framed diplomas.
Photographs of graduating classes.
A glass case containing awards for academic excellence.
On one wall hung a large black-and-white photograph of Hawthorne Preparatory Academy’s original building from 1928.
Marcus sat in a leather chair across from the principal.
Mrs. Gallagher sat beside him.
No counselor had been called.
No parent had been contacted.