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Owen appeared a few seconds later and began clapping. “This is the best prom ever,” he said.

“Oh my God,” I said, covering my face with my hands. “If you came out here to mock me, you can go back inside.”

“I came to make sure you weren’t jumping off the roof,” he said, smiling. I felt a fresh burst of humiliation, but then I started laughing. Because it was kind of funny. “Seriously, Emma,” he said, “that was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“The most humiliating, at any rate.”

“You know, you weren’t as bad as you think. Once you got over your stage fright, you and Flynn sounded pretty good.”

“Oh, come on,” I said.

“No, seriously, you’ve been holding out on us.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue holding out on you. Please don’t ever let me sing in public again.”

“Aw, not even on my birthday?” he said. “You promised.”

“I didn’t promise. I said I’d think about it,” I said, smiling. “Besides, you’ll be in Paris next year for your birthday, and I’ll be stuck here.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Elise told me. Sorry about that. I know how much you wanted to go.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Elise can sing to you instead,” I said. “You guys looked pretty cozy out there on the dance floor.” He just flashed me a shy, dimpled grin that told me nothing.

“Seriously, Emma, thank you for the song.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Am I forgiven?”

“Mmm,” he said, pretending to consider. “Maybe after one more song.” I scoffed and hit him playfully in the chest. “Of course I forgive you,” he said.

“Thank God. Because I hated not talking to you.”

“Me too,” he said. “Now, let’s get you back inside. Your fans are waiting.”

I smiled as he linked his arm in mine and escorted me back into the club.

Michelle and Jess tried to convince me I wasn’t as bad as I thought. But I just kept shaking my head and laughing. Flynn was still up on stage, this time singing a haunting rendition of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart.”

“Dance with me?” Jess said to Michelle. Michelle beamed and took Jess’s hand.

Owen and I watched as they took the dance floor, gliding comfortably in each other’s arms. “They look happy together,” Owen said.

“Yeah, they do.”

“This was a great idea, this prom,” he said. “You did a good thing here.”

I nodded, smiling. “I had a lot of help.”

I was about to ask Owen to dance when Elise wandered up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, you,” she said in a flirty voice.

“Hey,” Owen said, looking pleased to see her.

“Emma, mind if I steal him?” she said.

“Not at all,” I lied. “You kids have fun.”

Owen turned and smiled at me in this way that blew my heart wide open, and then they left me on the sidelines.

I sat on a bar stool, watching my friends dance and listening to the melancholy lyrics of the song. Elise was playing with Owen’s floppy hair, Jess was resting her head on Michelle’s shoulder, and Flynn was hamming it up on the stage.

I shivered a little, knowing Gray wasn’t going to come up behind me and ask me to dance. No one was going to rescue me tonight. I was completely on my own.

But it was exactly where I wanted to be.

C
HAPTER
28

T
he Star-Crossed prom had been an unequivocal disaster. At least that’s what we heard the next day from a few of the girls who had gone and lived to regret it. Apparently, attendance had been poor, the band they’d hired seemed to be from the 1970s, and the food was overcooked and flavorless. All in all, it sounded like our prom had been way more fun.

We wondered if Overbrook would somehow find a way to blame us for this. But in those next few days, he made no moves to reprimand or punish us for our underground dance. We went through the motions of studying for exams and finishing final projects, just waiting for the hammer to drop. But as the final weeks ticked by, we began to hold out hope that such punishment might never come.

The senior graduation was always held on the Monday of the last week of school, and the entire student body was required to attend. For the first time, I actually listened to the valedictory address. Sophie Hannigan’s speech was about how hard it is to be true to yourself, to shut out all the voices telling you what you should do or who you should be.

She ended by saying, “For all of us in high school, it’s easy to slip into a role. It almost seems necessary so at least you’ll have a place to sit in the lunchroom: with the jocks or the artists or the cool kids or the freaks. But sometimes you come to identify so much with the group you belong to that you forget who you really are. And the hardest thing of all is to be yourself. It can be lonely and frightening. I’m still learning how to do it. But I’m hoping with time, I might be as brave as some others I know. Deep down in their souls they know who they are, and that makes them heroes to me. So my advice to you today isn’t to try to get into the best college or make the most money or be the most popular girl in your class, but to find out who you are and then be the best version of that you can be.”

We clapped wildly for her and then settled in for a nap. It was customary for Dr. Overbrook to follow the valedictory speech with his Headmaster’s Address, invariably full of tedious inspirational clichés. But this time, no one fell asleep.

After Overbrook greeted the students, parents, and faculty, he began talking about journeys—journeys beginning for the graduates and other journeys ending.

Then he said, “It is with great sadness that I announce my resignation as headmaster of Lockwood Preparatory School.”

A collective gasp overtook the room.

Once the murmuring died down, he continued his speech, saying, “I have worked here for thirty-three years, and in all that time, Lockwood has been my home. These girls have been like daughters to me. Though I am loath to leave the place that has given me so many rewarding years, one must recognize when one journey is over and when it is time to start down a new path. But please know that every girl who has walked down these hallways has left an indelible imprint in my heart, and I will hold those memories dear until the day I die.”

I was trying not to gag as I watched some of the girls begin to cry. I felt nothing more than a mild pity for him and a deep satisfaction that he would never torment another student. Despite my relief, I felt a slightly guilty conscience. Was it possible the spell we’d done had actually had some effect? Was Overbrook’s resignation in any way related to the words we’d recited? Could thoughts and wishes really be so powerful?

I brushed aside my concerns and tried to look appropriately sorrowful. But I began wondering what would happen to Lockwood now that Overbrook wouldn’t be here to keep everyone in line. And who would take his place?

I didn’t need to wonder long because Overbrook finished his speech by saying that, per the Lockwood charter, the head of the school board would take over running the school temporarily. Elise’s father, Mr. Douglas Fairchild, would be interim headmaster until a permanent replacement could be found.

Mr. Fairchild stood up from the first row of chairs and walked onstage, meeting Overbrook at the podium. Then Overbrook invited the graduates to the stage, and he and Mr. Fairchild shared the duty of distributing diplomas.

We were all reeling from this bombshell as we gathered for the after-party in the Commons garden. “So Brewster’s going to love me even more now that my dad’s interim Headmaster,” Elise said.

“Elise, do you know what happened?” I asked. “Did it have something to do with that spell we did?”

Elise looked at Michelle warily. “Think we should tell them?” she said.

“Tell us what?” Jess asked.

Elise gestured for us to follow her, and we all crept around to the side of the building. Elise said in a hushed voice, “All right, you guys, I’m going to tell you what’s going on. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Jess and I swore a vow of secrecy.

And then she told us how, thirty years ago, Dr. Roger Overbrook had been Mr. Roger Overbrook Hall, a teacher at a private boarding school in London. After three years of service, he had been terminated for having an inappropriate relationship with one of his students.

“Oh my God,” I said. “How do you know this?”

“My dad’s friend, the ACLU lawyer, dug it up during his investigations.”

“Wow,” Jess said. “I mean, I always knew Overbrook was creepy, but I didn’t know he was a pervert.”

“Actually, he was only twenty-five when it happened,” Michelle said, “and the student was eighteen.” I couldn’t believe Michelle was defending him.

“It’s still pretty shady,” Jess said.

“Just listen,” Elise said, continuing. “After the scandal, Overbrook came to America, changed his name slightly, and tried to put his past behind him.”

“But it caught up with him,” Michelle said.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “So Overbrook is resigning because he had inappropriate relations with a student thirty years ago?”

“Not exactly,” Elise said. “He’s resigning because the school where he taught in London was . . . an all-boys school.”

It took me a moment for the implication to register. “Do you mean . . . ?” And suddenly it all made sense. “But then why . . . why would he come down so hard on you and Jess?” I asked Michelle. “Why was he so unsupportive?”

Michelle sighed. “I think because we reminded him of everything he’d tried so hard to forget. He was so scared of people finding out the truth about him that he decided the best thing to do was pretend it didn’t exist. Try to keep everything safe and secure inside his little bubble.”

“His snow globe,” I said.

“What?” Elise said.

“Nothing. Never mind. So, Elise, why didn’t your dad go public with this information?” I asked.

“It didn’t feel right,” she said. “My dad wasn’t about to out Overbrook to the world. It’s his secret, something he’s had to come to terms with on his own. As much of a bastard as he is, my dad wouldn’t expose him like that.”

Just like Hester wouldn’t expose Dimmesdale. And Jess wouldn’t expose Michelle. People had to learn to accept themselves on their own terms.

After we’d recovered from the shock, we went back to join the party. Overbrook was walking around saying his goodbyes to various girls and their parents, seeming genuinely sad about leaving. I suddenly saw him with new eyes. All his ego and bluster seemed to have deserted him. He looked like a smaller, withered version of himself, much like Chillingworth had after Dimmesdale finally broke free from his control.

It must have been painful for him to bury the truth about himself for so many years. And lonely. I actually felt a little sorry for him.

The final days of school were a breeze. Since I’d already taken AP exams in biology, history, and English, my only final exam was French, and it was a cakewalk. When I turned the test in to my proctor, she told me that Madame Favier had requested to see me in her office.

Curious, I walked over to Easty Hall with a slight bounce in my step, excited that summer break was about to begin. I found Madame sitting at her desk, grading her first round of exams. When she saw me, she jumped up from her chair, beaming.

“Ah, Emma, asseyez-vous s’il vous plaît. J’ai des bonnes nouvelles et bonnes nouvelles!” This, I liked the sound of: She had good news and more good news.

I sat down across from her and listened as she told me that Overbrook’s resignation had negated the need for his recommendation for the scholarship to Paris. So long as the acting headmaster gave his approval, our sister school would accept me into the study program.

I knitted my brow in confusion. “So I need Mr. Fairchild’s recommendation now?” I said. “But Elise got the scholarship already. Her dad’s not going to take it away from his own daughter to give it to me.”

“That’s the other good news,” she said. “I explained to the school’s director the unfortunate circumstances of your case and some of the mitigating factors in Overbrook’s refusal to write the recommendation. Given the awkwardness of having already awarded the scholarship to someone else, the director agreed to open up two slots for next year. There is still only one scholarship available, but Elise and her father have turned down the money. They are willing to pay the full tuition.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“No, Emma, I’m not. So long as your parents consent, you’re going to Paris next year!”

I staggered to my feet while Madame hugged me. She seemed genuinely thrilled to be the one to deliver the good news. I was still in shock.

I was a little concerned about telling my father I was going to Paris again. This hadn’t been an easy year for him as far as I was concerned. But I had every confidence he’d deal with this just as he dealt everything else in my life: with initial skepticism and eventual acceptance. He really had no choice. This was my life, not his.

I left her room in a bit of a daze and thought about how strange life could be. Despite all the turmoil and drama of this year, certain people had come through for me in the end. And they weren’t necessarily the ones I’d expected. Elise. Mr. Fairchild. Even Flynn. I guess people weren’t all good or all bad. In
The Scarlet Letter,
Dimmesdale finally owns up to his mistakes and takes Hester’s hand in public. Even old Chillingworth leaves his entire fortune to Pearl, ensuring a good life for her. Redemption sometimes comes from unlikely places.

On our final night at Lockwood, the new “Fearsome Four” met in the lounge to say good-bye before leaving for summer break. Elise had already broken the good news about Paris.

Michelle pouted. “So Owen, Flynn, Elise, and now you are all going to Europe? Is this some kind of conspiracy?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jess said, grabbing Michelle’s hand. “Lockwood’s going to be like the island of misfit toys next year. You and I should room together.”

“Absolutely,” Michelle said.

“Oh, Michelle,” Elise said, “I want you to look after Odin for me. I wish I could explain to him where I’m going. He’s going to be so lonely.”