“It’s time, Emily,” Mom said.

I looked up at her from the couch, and sighed deeply. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

It was Tuesday, the week after prom. After such an eventful night, Josh and I had been driven home by his uncle, and together we’d told him and my parents what had happened. The five of us had agreed to just let sleeping dogs lie: even though we’d been attacked by Troy, in public even, we would be rid of him soon enough, since there were just two weeks to go before the end of the school year. There was no reason to bother making a fuss – Troy would graduate, and everything would be fine.

Except someone else decided to make a fuss.

Early on Monday afternoon, Josh and I had been called by Principal Carlson to his office, who told us Troy’s father, the superintendent for the school district, had been quite upset that his son had been assaulted at prom, and even more upset that the principal fully intended to let the culprits get away scot-free. No matter how much Mr. Carlson protested that it was Troy who was at fault, Mr. McPearson had insisted on calling for a meeting of the full school board, to discuss discipline at school – a meeting which Josh and I had been all but ordered to attend, along with our guardians.

The meeting was to take place on Tuesday afternoon, after school hours. Graciously, Mr. Carlson had allowed the two of us to just skip attending lessons for the day, to prepare and steel ourselves for what was sure to be an onslaught of accusation on the superintendent’s part.

I got up from the couch, and together with Mom I walked to the car; Dad was already sitting behind the wheel, looking straight ahead, stone-faced. I’d actually been surprised when he insisted on taking a day off from work to be able to attend the school board meeting – Mom was usually the one who took care of all school stuff. But when I mentioned it, he said that there was no way he would just let the two of us go alone: he had some choice words to say about Troy and Mr. McPearson, too.

The drive was short, and uneventful; in short order we found ourselves sitting outside the school’s auditorium, along with Josh and his uncle Kentigern. The venue had been chosen because there was no way Principal Carlson’s office would be able to accommodate all of us, plus all the members of the school board. We just sat there, in silence, until shortly before the appointed time, when Troy and Mr. McPearson made their appearance.

I could immediately see the family resemblance: Mr. McPearson, in fact, looked just like Troy – an older, taller, balder version of my nemesis. Even his hair was slicked back with too much hair gel, the way Troy usually wore it. That day, though, Troy had apparently decided to just comb it carefully, without putting anything in it. And he was wearing a button-up shirt and jeans, nothing too formal: a far cry from his usual tough-guy attire, and starkly different from the carefully-tailored suit his father was wearing. He sported a large bandage on his cheek, much like the one I’d had back when I first talked to Josh – clearly the result of my boyfriend’s punch.

The two of them stopped in the corridor in front of us, Troy looking down at the floor, while Mr. McPearson regarded Josh and I haughtily, as if we were something he’d stepped in with his good shoes, without speaking, for several seconds. Then he spoke.

“Well!” he exclaimed in a loud voice, “I guess these are those who assaulted you at prom, Troy, aren’t they?”

His tone clearly indicated he thought we were beneath him. Troy didn’t answer, though; he just kept staring at the linoleum flooring of the corridor.

“I asked you a question, son!” Mr. McPearson said, his voice raising even more in volume and making Troy jump. “Are they the ones who assaulted you?”

Troy looked up, his eyes meeting mine for a moment; his expression was weird, I couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind at the moment. Then he looked down at the floor again.

“Yes,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“Good!” Mr. McPearson replied. “Let’s get this over with, then. Come along, son.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strode forward, past us, and threw open the doors to the auditorium, walking in like he owned the place. Troy seemed to hesitate a moment, but then he stepped forward too; when he passed me, though, he again looked up at me briefly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

…What?

Then he was gone, following his father into the room, as a frown formed on my face.

There was a moment of silence, then my father spoke up.

“Fucking hell!” he said. “Who does that svin think he is?!”

“Calm down, dear,” Mom soothed him. “Let’s not make this worse.”

Dad took a deep breath. “Point taken, I’ll try to be calm.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Carlson said, rounding a corner in the corridor and approaching us. “We don’t want to give him anything he could use against Josh and Emily, and that includes getting angry. The truth is on our side, so let’s all be calm.”

Dad reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Mr. Carlson, I assume?” he asked, offering the principal his hand.

Principal Carlson nodded as he shook it. “Correct. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson. I just wish circumstances were better.”

“Likewise, and likewise,” Dad replied. “Shall we go and face the music?”

The principal nodded again. “Follow me, please.”

He walked past us and entered the room, and we hurried after him. The chairs inside the auditorium had been arranged in a circle, and several people were already sitting in them: as we took the seats Mr. Carlson motioned us towards, I recognised Mr. Novak, the vice principal, and a couple of teachers; I didn’t know the others, though. Troy and his father were there, of course: again, Troy was looking down, staring intently at the floor in front of his chair.

“Alright,” Principal Carlson said when we sat down. “Let’s call this meeting to order. For the record, this is an emergency meeting of the school board, to discuss the events which transpired last Friday, during prom. As such, the students involved in the… incident… are also present, along with their guardians: Mr. Troy McPearson, and his father; Mr. Josh Woods, and his uncle; and Miss Emily Wilson, and her parents.” He nodded to each of us in turn. “Now, let me begin by saying…”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the board!” Mr. McPearson said, cutting the principal off and rising to his feet. “I was the one who insisted on having this meeting, over Mr. Carlson’s objections, I might add, because something extremely serious has happened four days ago. While he was enjoying prom – his senior prom, the last prom of his high school career – my son has been assaulted!”

He made a dramatic pause for effect; he was clearly used to public speaking, and he had the school board’s full attention.

“Yes, assaulted, I say!” Mr. McPearson continued. “Viciously attacked, to an extent which required medical attention. And the culprits are sitting right there!”

He turned around, and pointed towards me and Josh, glaring at the two of us. I glared back, and my father muttered something under his breath and started to stand up from his chair, but Mom grabbed his arm and held him back.

McPearson wasn’t finished. “Normally, I wouldn’t use my authority as superintendent in such a way, but I feel I must: a student being assaulted is a serious matter, and as such, I feel an exemplary punishment should be handed down. Something like… expulsion.”

“Expulsion?” Josh’s uncle exclaimed. “Listen here, you…”

He stopped, noticing Principal Carlson making a gesture to him – calm down.

The principal cleared his voice. “Yes, that is why the meeting has been called today. To decide what, if any, disciplinary measures are appropriate, in light of Friday’s events. Thank you, Superintendent McPearson, for the summary.” He paused, and looked at me and Josh. “Do either of you have anything to say?”

Josh and I exchanged a glance; I briefly nodded to him, giving him the go ahead to speak first.

“Um… Yes,” my boyfriend said, as we both stood up from our chairs. “I do have something to say. That is not the whole story.”

Mr. McPearson hesitated; his eyes flickered briefly to Mr. Novak.

“That’s right,” I added. “What you said is technically true, Mr. McPearson, but there’s more to it. We didn’t… assault Troy, as you said, but rather we defended ourselves.”

McPearson frowned. “Explain,” he demanded.

“I did punch your son, that much is true,” Josh said, and then immediately raised a hand to stave off McPearson’s rebuttal. “But I did it to protect Emily. Troy was clearly attacking her, and I only hit him to stop him.”

“And, before that,” I supplied, “Troy had already tried to attack me, but I tripped him up and he fell. I didn’t touch him beyond that.”

Again, McPearson looked at Mr. Novak, and his eyes narrowed, before he looked back at us. “Preposterous,” he said. “That cannot be true. I have it on good authority that it wasn’t the first time my son had been attacked by you two. Like for example, you tried to punch him once before, the day the school had been evacuated because of the fire, did you not?” he asked Josh.

“…I did,” Josh admitted, seemingly deciding that honesty was the best course of action. “But that’s not--”

“See, he admits it,” McPearson said. “Why should we take him at his word?”

“Because it’s not just his word, Mr. McPearson,” Principal Carlson interjected. “The events at prom happened in front of nearly half the student body, as well as several teachers. None of which, I must note, have been called as witnesses for this meeting. But I suppose that is a complete coincidence,” he said pointedly.

“Why should we hear from someone who wasn’t directly involved in the incident?” Mr. Novak said. “People can be mistaken. People can lie.”

“All of them?” Mr. Carlson said mildly. “Really? For what purpose? And besides, it’s not just eyewitness testimony. I’m sure there are several videos and pictures of the incident floating around.” He paused. “All of which will show the same thing: Troy McPearson attacked Emily Wilson, and Emily and Josh Woods defended themselves. Also, I have to note that Troy was drunk at the time.”

A murmur ran through the ranks of the school board. Mr. McPearson’s eyes widened in surprise, and he turned around and glared at Troy, who cringed under his gaze. But then McPearson whipped around again.

“And why should the board believe you? After all, you’re not the most upstanding people. You, Principal Carlson, have been gunning for my job as superintendent for years now…” he accused.

“I’m quite happy as a principal,” Mr. Carlson commented, but McPearson forged on.

“…And you, Mr. Woods, if I’m not mistaken you’ve been disowned by your own mother, and had to be taken in by your uncle. Should we trust someone like you?”

Josh flinched as if he’d been slapped. Uncle Kay jumped up from his seat: “Now, hold on just a goddamn second!” he shouted.

McPearson wasn’t done. “And what about you, Miss Wilson?” he said, his voice dripping with irony. “You’re no stranger to fighting, either, as Mr. Novak tells me. And last I checked you were a boy, and now all of a sudden you’re prancing around in girls’ clothes, as if you wanted to… distract us from your misdeeds. Tell me, are you even really trans?”

My dad started to get up, but Mom was quicker. “You shut the fuck up and apologise to my daughter right now, mister, or god help me you’re getting out of this room on a stretcher.”

“See?” Mr. McPearson said. “Even his parents are aggressive. This is all a farce.”

Principal Carlson’s voice was calm, but there was a noticeable strain behind it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Superintendent McPearson,” he said. “I’ve checked the documents Miss Wilson brought me, and I can confirm they’re genuine.”

“Regardless,” McPearson insisted. “If you want me to believe that he--”

“She.”

McPearson froze. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the speaker. “What?” he asked.

“She,” Troy repeated. He took a deep breath, and looked up from the floor, straight into his father’s eyes. “Wilson’s a girl, dad. Stop. You’re making an ass out of yourself.”

Mr. McPearson’s face went red. “What the fuck did you say to me, boy?” he shouted.

Troy flinched, but then gulped and answered. “I said that you’re making an ass out of yourself. Denying the truth. That Wilson is a girl, or that…” He took a deep breath, and then continued, “That I was the one at fault on Friday, at prom.”

Troy paused, as if to gauge his father’s reaction, but the superintendent just looked at him, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“What Principal Carlson said is true. I got drunk, tried to attack Wilson, and got my ass handed to me. Let’s just… stop. With all of this,” Troy went on. He looked up at me and Josh – but mostly at me, I realised – and gave us a pitiful smile. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, there was dead silence in the room. Then Principal Carlson spoke up.

“Well, I guess this settles it then. I think no disciplinary measures should be handed down to either Miss Wilson or Mr. Woods,” he said. “Does the board agree?”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the board members.

“Good,” Mr. Carlson nodded. “Then, as for the matter of Mr. McPearson… I suppose it’s appropriate that he’s not punished, either. He made a mistake, true, but he showed repentance just now. And his track record is clean, this is the first time he’s done something against the school rules.”

That was a lie. Mr. Carlson knew it, I knew it, Josh knew it, Troy knew it; and several other people probably knew it, too – including Troy’s father. But that was probably the best solution to avoid any pushback from the superintendent.

“So, no punishment for Mr. McPearson, either,” the principal continued. “Unless the injured parties insist on it?”

He looked at me and Josh pointedly, and I slowly shook my head. “No, that’s not needed,” I said.

“Yeah,” Josh agreed.

“That’s settled, then,” Mr. Carlson said. “Though you should probably avoid each other until the school year is over.” He looked around the room, and then concluded, “I guess this meeting of the school board is over.”

Mr. McPearson glared at the principal, and then turned his stare on us; we just glared back at him, all five of us. Then he grabbed Troy by the arm, and dragged him out of his chair, crossing the room with his son in tow towards Mr. Novak.

“You’d assured me things would go fine,” he snarled, the words clearly audible, when he reached the vice principal. “Instead we’ve just made a sorry showing of ourselves.”

“I thought so, but--” Novak began to protest.

“I don’t want to hear it!” McPearson snapped. “We’ll talk about this later. As for you…” he said, turning to Troy. “Just wait until we get home.”

He stomped angrily out of the room, his hand still clasped tight around Troy’s arm. As they walked out of the door, Troy looked up at me; I don’t know exactly what, but I saw something in his eyes…

“Well, congratulations!” Mr. Carlson said, approaching our small group. “I think it couldn’t have gone better.”

“Right,” my father agreed. “Though that was distinctly unpleasant. Is the superintendent always like that?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” the principal replied. “But you don’t need to worry about him, there’s nothing he can do now, not after the poor showing he put on tonight.” He smiled at us. “You should go home. Get some rest. I don’t want to hear about you two sleeping in class tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Uncle Kay agreed.

The five of us left the room, and started walking down the corridor to our cars; however, I couldn’t stop thinking about Troy, and Josh noticed it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, as my parents and his uncle walked slightly ahead of us, talking among themselves.

“There’s something… Well, I don’t know how to describe it. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” I said, shaking my head. “But I just can’t get it out of my mind.”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at me. “Is this something I should worry about?”

I shook my head again. “No, I don’t think so. But…”

I sighed.

“I think I need to talk to Troy.”