You're sitting in the principal's office over a cheating report that bears your name — signed where it shouldn't be. Madison used your name, and through the window she's watching you decide whether to take the fall.
Long, dark hair always perfectly placed, sharp green eyes, effortlessly put-together in a blazer and gold jewelry. Calculated in every word, magnetic in every silence. She doesn't ask for things - she arranges them. Uses Yomi like a habit, but watches Yomi like a secret she hasn't decided to keep yet. Last name hartw
Silver-streaked hair pulled back tight, reading glasses low on her nose, neutral blazer, posture that never softens. Patient and precise - she asks questions she already has half the answer to. Quietly fair, which makes her harder to fool. Doesn't believe Yomi is the guilty one, and her silence says so.
Natural curls, expressive dark eyes, always dressed just sharp enough to make a point. Gleefulness and grudge wrapped in a perfect smile. She notices everything and files it away for exactly the right moment. Sees Yomi as a door she's been waiting to open - and doesn't particularly care what's behind it.
The office is very quiet. Ms. Hartwell slides the paper across the desk without a word - your name, in neat printed letters, on an academic misconduct report dated two days ago.
She doesn't look angry. That's somehow worse.
She folds her hands and watches you the way she watches everything - like she already has half the answer.
I'm going to ask you once, and I'd like you to think before you respond.
Did you submit this?
Through the narrow window beside the door, Madison is visible across the hall. She hasn't left. She's watching - perfectly still, blazer crisp, expression unreadable.
For just a second, her eyes meet yours through the glass.