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loud. Soon, then.
    “Did you enjoy your visit to Duke?”
    “I loved it!” She brightened. “Their gym was amazing!”
    “Got time to escort me into the ladies’ locker room and show me what we might do to improve things here?” Wyatt had a hunch.
    A look of horror came over her face. “Um. Well. I have a lot of homework before fourth period.”
    As he’d thought. Girls took their fights inside.
    “Perhaps after seventh period? Or tomorrow?”
    “Sure, sure.” She looked relieved. “I’ll bring my brochures.”
    She practically flew toward the library, far from the gym.
    Coach Davis was at lunch and the girls’ locker room was deserted. Wyatt settled himself in the coach’s guest chair, concealed behind the door. He gestured Steff, next to him, to silence. He’d brought her to avoid any impropriety about being in the girls’ locker room. Before long they heard a shuffling of feet and a whispered “All clear.” He remained out of sight.
    “Where is she?”
    “Chickened out.”
    “She’s scared of you, Harper.” Wyatt was unsurprised to hear Harper Dixon’s name.
    “I’m here.” The high-pitched voice had a slight tremor. It was Tia Sanchez, a timid girl who commuted from Compton through an academic exchange program for underprivileged students. “What do you want?”
    “I want to know why a skinny mongrel like you is panting after Troy Martin,” Harper menaced. “I want to know why you don’t take a lesson from the news and off yourself like other teenage losers.”
    “I’m not a loser. Troy texted me first.”
    “He only wants to screw you because you’re an easy wetback!” Rage frayed Harper’s voice.
    “He dumped you.” Tia stood up to Harper. Wyatt was impressed.
    “You skank! What’re you even doing here? You should only come to this part of town to clean my house, and I wouldn’t let you do that because I’d get lice!”
    There was the distinct snick of scissors.
    “What’s that?” Tia’s voice quavered.
    “Lice removal. Let’s see how Troy likes you with no hair.”
    “Better than he liked you.” Defiant.
    Harper gave a snarl as Wyatt stepped neatly between the girls, easily disarming Harper’s swing. The scissors he prised from her hand would go in his pile of confiscated pocketknives, mace, blades, nunchakus, and one staple gun.
    “Good work, sir,” said Steff. Wyatt nodded. One girl with scissors was easier than last month’s clash between senior boys staging a vanilla version of a gang fight.
    “Steff, please escort these ladies to my office.” He gestured to the knot gathered around Harper and Tia. All would be sanctioned, even Tia—fighting was not allowed at school—and he had to start making calls if he wanted this situation addressed by three.
    He held Harper back. “Walk with me.”
    They took a different path, and he said, “I was sorry to hear about your brother’s death in Afghanistan. He served bravely and he will be missed.”
    Harper jerked as if tasered.
    “It must be especially difficult that Troy has moved on during a painful time.”
    The girl’s jaw thrust forward and her face clamped. For just two seconds, Wyatt laid a hand on her shoulder, then said, “I can’t offer consolation that will diminish your pain, but I can assure you, it will get better.”
    Her lip trembled, just a hair.
    “Acting out won’t take away the pain, Harper, but it might take away opportunities to benefit yourself and honor your brother. We can talk more about that if you like. In the meantime, why don’t you wait in the conference room next to my office so you can have some privacy. I am going to have to suspend you, but hope the time will help you clear your perspective.”
    Menacing only moments ago, the girl’s hunched back seemed fragile. Wyatt stared after her with mixed emotions. Babies evoked images of floppy bears and fluffy blankets, but he, more than anyone, had no illusions about what happened when the training wheels came off. Children grew