Quoted By:
<span class="mu-r">“Sorry, W. Looks like we’re gonna be taking a little detour.”</span>
The masked woman tilted her head to the side slightly, but didn’t argue as you began swinging your way towards Cindy’s school.
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When you were at least a couple blocks away from the school, you decided to stop and get changed. W was content to hang back and wait while you took care of things, but she was insistent that you take a spider with you when you did.
It took you a minute to realize that she was intending to observe the proceedings through the spider’s eyes and vibration sense. Sort of like a mobile-spy cam. You gingerly accepted the spider and allowed it to crawl somewhere within your jacket so that it could monitor your speech and movements.
Shortly afterward, you were jogging down the halls towards where you thought Cindy was being kept. You actually almost got lost at one point, but you conveniently ran into Miles on the way there, and he pointed you in the right direction.
He had been leisurely chatting with a girl that had thick-rimmed, round glasses and dyed purple hair. But judging from the short distance they were standing from the disciplinary room, you felt that it was fair to assume that they were waiting for Cindy to get out. Or…at least Miles was.
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As soon as you entered the room, all eyes fell on you. Aside from the teacher, there were eight kids present. Two of which you were familiar with already. There was Cindy, wide-eyed and clearly embarrassed by this whole ordeal. And her new friend Carlie, the enthusiastic and scholarly blonde who could speak sign language. Right before you’d entered, you were certain that she had been arguing with the teacher about something.
The ones you weren’t familiar with were very obviously delinquents, and were all sporting different types of bruises from what you were sure was an incredibly embarrassing experience for them. Curiously, though, one of the delinquents was sitting a bit closer to Cindy than the others were. He was the only one not throwing her nasty looks. A tall black boy with short dreads, multiple piercings and a stylish hoodie worn over his uniform.
<span class="mu-b">“I’m sorry, who are-”</span> the teacher began, but you cut him off with a raised hand.
<span class="mu-r">“I’m Cindy’s guardian. I heard she got into a fight?”</span>
The black boy let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a snicker and a scoff. The other kids in the back glared at him.
<span class="mu-b">“She and my brother were only defending themselves.”</span> Carlie argued.
<span class="mu-r">“'Step'-brother.”</span> the boy lazily corrected.
<span class="mu-b">“Right. But my point still stands. They’re innocent in all this.”</span>
The teacher casually glanced at Cindy, the girl with barely a scratch on her, and then glanced at everyone else, clearly in varying states of disarray. The look he gave Carlie was oozing with skepticism and doubt.
Suddenly, Cindy shot up from her seat, making the kids in the back flinch involuntarily. <span class="mu-s">“I can explain.”</span>
(Cont.)
