The girl nodded. “Yeah. I have you second period.”
“What’s your name?”
“Zara.” Another drag, and a smoke ring. “Kauffman.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Zara.” When the girl didn’t answer, Nola said, “You know smoking isn’t allowed anywhere on the school grounds.”
Zara heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Technically, I’m not on the grounds. This overlook sticks out about fifteen feet from the side of the mountain.” She sent Nola a mocking smile. “Cantilevered, as in.” She tossed the last of the cigarette into the valley below.
Jaw set, Nola got to her feet. “And a piece of paper wrapped around tobacco doesn’t qualify as litter when you throw it on the ground?”
Now the girl rolled her eyes. “Jeez. Chill, why don’t you? It’s just a butt.”
“It’s trash. If you have to indulge in such a filthy habit, at least have the decency to dispose of your litter properly.” She started back the way she’d come, wanting to put distance between herself and Zara as quickly as possible.
“Hey,” the girl called after her. “Are you going to chit me?”
Nola stopped and considered. She hadn’t thought about the practice of writing up a chit to report a student’s misbehavior in quite some time, even though she’d certainly received her share. Pivoting, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”
Zara came toward her. Nola realized the girl was almost as tall as she was, and probably heavier.
She stopped within arm’s distance. “That’s not very nice.”
“Smoking isn’t very nice.” Nola fought the urge to back away. “The headmistress will want to talk to you about it, I’m sure.”
The almond-shaped eyes narrowed to slits. “You make trouble for me, I could make trouble for you.”
Nola laughed. “You could try. I wouldn’t advise it, however.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see who’s laughing tomorrow in class.”
The girl barreled past, deliberately ramming her shoulder into Nola’s chest and knocking her to the side. Nola grabbed a tree trunk to keep from losing her balance. When she looked beyond the tree, she saw that the ground fell sharply away at that point. If Zara’s shove had been just a little harder, she could have taken a nasty, even fatal, fall.
“Welcome to Hawkridge,” she muttered, starting the long trek back to campus. “Enter at your own risk!”
THE MATH-AND-SCIENCE hallway was still quiet when Nola arrived at seven-thirty Monday morning. She stepped through the open doorway of the classroom Jayne Thomas had assigned her when they’d talked on the phone the day before, and flipped three switches to turn on the lights. Two columns of tables faced the front of the room, with two chairs at each table.
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