Chapter 6: The Counselor's Chair Was Empty
Dennis Farrow's office was on the second floor of the main building, between the stairwell and the copy room.
Marcus had spent more hours in that office than he could count.
Farrow had a particular way of leaning back in his chair when he was about to say something he thought was important, hands laced behind his head, ceiling-ward gaze, like he was delivering wisdom from a great height.
Marcus had found it mildly irritating and mostly harmless.
He didn't find it harmless anymore.
He stood in the doorway of the empty office on Monday morning — school was technically still in session for underclassmen, finals week — and looked at the desk.
The chair was pushed in.
The surface was clear.
A coffee mug sat next to the monitor with a dried ring at the bottom, like it had been left mid-morning and not returned to.
Destiny appeared at his shoulder.
"You shouldn't be in there," she said.
"I'm not in there.
I'm in the doorway."
"Legally ambiguous."
He looked at the desk a moment longer.
"He wrote my recommendation letter.
He told me I was going to do great things."
"People say things," Destiny said.
"He meant it.
I could tell."
"Maybe he did." She leaned against the door frame.
"Doesn't change what he filed."
Marcus turned away from the office.
"Why would he do both?
Write the letter and file the objection?
That doesn't make sense."
"Unless," Destiny said, "someone made him file it."
Marcus looked at her.
"Aldridge had something on him," she said.
"Or she offered him something.
Or both." She said it the way she said most things — flat, even, like she was reading from a document.
"People don't usually do things that contradict themselves for no reason."
"You think she pressured him."
"I think the text said 'this has been planned for weeks.' That's not one person.
That's a system."
They walked back down the corridor in silence.
Around them, underclassmen moved between classrooms, carrying the specific obliviousness of people who had not yet heard the full story or had heard it and decided it didn't involve them.
It was Destiny who had first told Marcus about the anonymous objection.
She had a cousin who worked in the district administrative office — not in any sensitive role, just front desk — who had mentioned it in passing, not understanding its significance, and Destiny had understood immediately and called Marcus at seven in the morning.
He had not gone back to sleep after that call.
Now, outside the main building, they sat on the low concrete wall near the parking lot.
The sun was already hot.
Destiny had her phone out, scrolling through something.
"There's a reporter," she said.
"From the city paper.
She's been calling the school since Saturday.
She specifically asked about the objection filing and about Farrow by name."
"How does she know about Farrow?"
"She doesn't say.
But she knows." Destiny looked up.
"She left her number with the front office.
Patricia Holt's assistant forwarded it to me this morning.
I think Holt wants someone to call her back."
Marcus was quiet.
"She's not going to stop digging," Destiny said.
"Whether you call her or not."
"I know."
"The difference is whether you get to be part of what she finds, or whether you just read about it later."
He took the phone from her hand and looked at the number.
Then he handed it back.
"Set up the call," he said.
"Today."
Destiny was already dialing.
Inside the building, in the main administrative suite, Patricia Holt was on her own call.
She stood at her office window, looking out at the parking lot, and watched Marcus and Destiny on the concrete wall below without them knowing she was watching.
"He filed it under duress," the voice on the phone said.
"He's willing to make a statement.
But he needs assurances."
"What kind of assurances?" Patricia asked.
"He wants to keep his job."
May you like
Patricia said nothing for a moment.
"Tell him," she said finally, "that what he keeps depends entirely on what he says."
