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“Arriving rather late, aren’t we?”
    "Engine trouble," MacKenna says.
    Only “engine” sounds like “injun.”
    Parsnip moves from the door, leaning down toward MacKenna. Our assistant headmaster is conveniently shaped like the vegetable we’ve named her after.
    She sniffs the air. "Miss Fielding, really."
    "Yes. Perhaps we need to have a talk with your father."
    I really don't want to see this. And somehow I feel like I'm making this worse. Ellis likes an audience, especially when using someone as an example. So I look away, and that's when I see it.
    The bike rack.
    And a purple bike locked to it.
    “It's here!”
    The words burst from my mouth. Suddenly they’re all looking at me, MacKenna's eyes shiny as glass, and Parsnip’s expression saying she gnaws three times daily on lemons and loves it.
    "Miss Harmon," she says, "would you mind?”
    "I have to get into the school!”
    Ellis looks at Parnsip, "Have we not made ourselves clear?"
    “But I lost something," I say. This statement is true. So of course I push it even farther. "And I won't be able to get my homework done without it."
    That stops them. For a moment.
    "What, pray tell," Parsnip says, "did you lose?”
    “My math." I really wish I'd inherited my dad’s talent for coming up with the right words at the right time. "I lost my math assignment.”
    "Really!" Parsnip snorts. “Your carelessness doesn't absolve you from consequences."
    Ellis looks at MacKenna. "Now, Miss Fielding . . . "
    I glance at the bike. Sitting under the parking lot lights, the purple paint glitters like a freshly cracked geode. I can hear them lecturing MacKenna. It could go on forever. Time for the nuclear option.
    "But Drew’s inside.”
    Parsnip laughs. At least, I think it’s a laugh. It sounds more like Isaac Newton the cat coughing up a fur ball.
    I point at the bike.
    "Wonders never cease,” Parsnip says, recovering. "Miss Levinson rides her bike to a formal dance.”
    “However," Ellis says, "I don't recall seeing her enter. Do you?”
    MacKenna's date glances at her. His eyes are bloodshot but he manages to wink at her.
    "I can state unequivocally," Parsnip says, “Miss Levinson did not darken this entrance tonight."
    “Doubtful she would even attend the dance,” Ellis asks.
    "Right," I say. "Because she's in the school."
    The two of them turn, to refocus on the bike. MacKenna's date maneuvers her behind their turned backs.
    "She's probably in the Physics lab," I say.
    "Impossible." Ellis is still staring at the bike. But he shakes his head. “No students are allowed inside the school after hours."
    “I'll go remind her," I say.
    “Absolutely not," Ellis says.
    “Out of the question!” Parsnip says.
    “We will take care of this matter after the dance," he says.
    “And take care of it we will," Parsnip echoes.
    MacKenna's date grabs the door handle. She covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. I watch them, almost marveling at how they just bypassed these people, like authority didn't matter. And here I am, begging for permission.
    “Miss Levinson needs further instruction," Ellis says. "She's under the mistaken impression that she's in charge."
    "Indeed," Parsnip says. "Lessons need to be learned."
    MacKenna's date flings open the door. A blast of music rushes out. I see that red dress bleeding into the gym, their laughter trailing.
    "Why I never!" Parsnip says.
    Me neither.
    I run for the door, slipping inside just before it closes on Parsnip's voice.
    “Miss Harmon—come back here!”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    I hang a fast right inside the gym and sprint past the couples.
    Couples dancing, holding hands. Couples getting their picture taken. And couples gaping as I run past.
    Somebody calls out something, but I can't hear because the band is so loud. I hustle to the far end of the gym, where our P.E. teacher, Mr. Galluci, stands by the snack table. He's cradling a giant bowl of Doritos in one arm.
    “Harmon!” he yells over the music. “What’s with the