Marianna

“I don’t understand.” I swallow hard past the lie, folding my hands over my lap, meeting the headmaster’s shrewd gaze. She’s an otherwise lovely woman in her late fifties, I believe, with raven-black hair peppered with silver and bright brown eyes. Her pink lipstick crinkles when she gives me a sad, sympathetic smile I know all too well… because this has happened before. Twice. Three times now, if I count today.

The pewter stone walls of the exclusive, ridiculously expensive Children’s Academy of Crescent City smothers me. She looks down at her desk for a moment, sighing.

“Ms. Abbot,” she says, meeting my gaze again, her face washed in...