if to ask her what’s up, but she shrugged her shoulders and walked away. My mouth was dry and my legs were heavy as I walked towards the office. The secretary making copies looked at me and gestured towards the principal’s office. I walked in and closed the door.
Ms. Ducharme, the principal, looked at me with a stale countenance that suggested lack of patience. Sitting at her desk was a police officer.
“Narissa, this is Agent Beaulieu. Don’t worry, no one is hurt. We need to ask you some questions.” I eased a bit. No one was hurt. Then why was there a cop?
The officer’s posture was tight; her vest was compact, and her hair tied back. Her radio buzzed with static. Her voice, however, was soft.
“Narissa, we have been told that someone in your school has posted inappropriate pictures of some students on the internet,” the officer informed me. I felt my ears blazing.
That jerk.
I wanted to turn for the door, but Agent Beaulieu gestured toward the chair next to her.
“Do you know anything about this?” I shook my head, and noticed a scuff on my sneakers. Could