Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
TWELVE HOURS BEFORE AMBER LAMONT’S parents tried to kill her, she was sitting between them in the principal’s office, her hands in her lap, stifling all the things she wanted to say.
“We don’t stand for troublemakers in this school,” said Mrs Cobb. She was a fleshy woman in her fifties who wore a necklace so tight that when her neck quivered and her face went red, Amber expected her head to just pop off, maybe bounce on the floor and go rolling underneath her massively imposing desk. That would have been nice.
“There is a reason we have been placed in the top three educational facilities in the great state of Florida,” Cobb continued, “and do you know what that is? It’s because we run a tight ship.”
She paused for effect, as if what she’d said needed to be absorbed rather than merely tolerated.
Cobb inclined her head slightly to one side. “Mr and Mrs Lamont, I don’t know you very well. In previous years, there has been no reason to summon you here. In previous years, Amber’s behaviour has been perfectly adequate. But your daughter has been sent to my office three times in the past month for altercations with other students. Three times. That is, I’m sure you’ll agree, beyond the pale. Speaking plainly, as I feel I must, her behaviour this semester has worsened to such a degree that I am, regrettably, forced to wonder if there might have been some drastic change in her home circumstances.”
Amber’s mother nodded sympathetically. “How terrible for you.”
Her parents were, as expected, completely calm in the face of overwhelming stupidity. That specific type of calm – detached, patient but at-times-veering-into-condescension – was pretty much their default setting. Amber was used to it. Cobb was not.
Betty Lamont sat in her chair with perfect posture and perfect hair, dressed smartly yet demurely. Bill Lamont sat with his legs crossed, hands resting on the understated buckle of his Italian belt, his fingers intertwined and his shoes gleaming. Both of them good-looking people, tall, healthy and trim. Amber had more in common with Mrs Cobb than she did with her own parents – Cobb could, in fact, have been Amber in forty years’ time, if she never found the discipline to go on that diet she’d been promising herself. The only thing she seemed to have inherited from her folks’ combined gene pool was her brown hair. Sometimes Amber let herself wonder where it all went wrong with her – but she didn’t ponder that mystery for very long. Such pondering led to the cold and darker places of her mind.
“It gets worse,” Cobb said. “The parents of the other girl in this … fracas, we’ll call it, have intimated that they will report the incident to the local newspaper if we do not take appropriate measures. I, for one, refuse to see this school’s good name dragged through the mud because of the actions of one troublesome student.” At that, Cobb glared at Amber, just to make sure everyone present knew to whom she was referring.
“Can I say something?” Amber asked.
“No, you may not.”
“Saffron’s the one who started it. She picks on anyone who isn’t as pretty and perfect as her and her friends.”
“Be quiet,” Cobb said sharply.
“I’m just saying, if you want to blame someone, then blame—”
“You may not speak!”
Amber answered her glare with one of her own. “Then why am I here?”
“You are here to sit and be quiet and let me talk to your parents.”
“But I could let you talk to my parents from somewhere else,” Amber said.
Cobb’s face flushed and her neck quivered. Amber waited for the pop.
“Young lady, you will be quiet when I tell you to be quiet. You will respect my authority and do as you are told. Do you understand?”
“So I’m not allowed to speak up for—”
“Do you understand?”
Her mother patted Amber’s leg. “Come on now, sweetie, let the nice old woman speak.”
Cobb’s eyes widened. “Well, I think I have identified the source of the problem. If this is how Amber has been raised, I am not surprised that she has no respect for authority.”
“Naturally,” Bill said, as composed as ever. “What’s so great about authority, anyway? It takes itself far too seriously, if you want my opinion. You have a little problem that you blow all out of proportion, drag Betty and myself across town for a meeting we’re obviously supposed to dread, and here you sit at your ridiculously large desk like a mini-despot, assuming you wield some sinister power over us. Betty, are you feeling intimidated yet?”
“Not yet,” Betty said kindly, “but I’m sure it will kick in soon.”
Amber did her best not to squirm in her seat. She’d seen this enough times to know what was coming next, and it always made her uncomfortable. Her parents had only so much tolerance for people they viewed as irritations, and the level of punishment they doled out depended entirely on how they were feeling on any particular occasion. The only thing Amber didn’t know was how far they intended to take it today.
Cobb’s unremarkable eyes narrowed. “Obviously, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. I can see where your daughter gets her attitude.”
Mrs Cobb was now little more than a lame wildebeest, the kind Amber had seen on nature documentaries. Her parents were the lions, moving through the long grass, closing in on both sides. Cobb didn’t know she was the wildebeest, of course. She didn’t know she was lame, either. She thought she was the lion, the one with the power. She had no idea what was coming.
“You’ve just said, essentially, the same thing twice,” Bill pointed out to her. “Added to this, you seem to talk entirely in clichés. And we’ve been entrusting you to educate our daughter? We may have to reconsider.”
“Let me assure you, Mr Lamont,” Mrs Cobb said, sitting
