Justice Served over Takeout

When I returned to the counselor's office, I opened by playing pitiful.

"Mr. Wilson, this really feels unfair," I said. "Why am I the only one being punished? What about the person who actually stole the food?"

Edwin sighed and spread his hands, helpless on the surface.

"Someone higher up will want to talk to you eventually. At least between us, there's still some teacher-student goodwill." The threat underneath was obvious.

He leaned back in his chair. "I advise you to accept the penalty now. If this goes up to school leadership, they will not be nearly as easy to deal with."

It was a good thing I had a habit of collecting gossip. It looked like time to increase the dosage.

"If you don't want to help me, then the thing between you and Maisie… We might accidentally let that slip," I said quietly. "And her comprehensive evaluation score clearly failed. You still gave her an A."

Edwin's eyelid twitched.

Maisie Quinn was the business school's campus belle. Last semester, her evaluation score ranked three points below mine, yet she still walked away with the national scholarship.

I had found that strange at the time. Last week, I learned why. I had wandered into an office by accident and caught Edwin with his hand on her thigh. They had been kissing.

Edwin had a family. I had heard his wife was vicious. He also had two sons built like calves.

"Enough!" He slammed his palm on the desk and shot to his feet, his face flushing red. "Don't mess around! Finn, listen to me. Things aren't what you think…"

He drew in a breath, forced himself to calm down, then softened his tone. "What do you want? I already spoke up for you with the dean. A major demerit was reduced to a warning. Expulsion became scholarship cancellation."

I met his gaze. "Who stole my food? And why is the school only punishing me?"

Silence stretched for several seconds.

Finally, Edwin spoke. "The Griffith family made a call. Canceling your scholarship was a condition set by Luther Griffith's father."

He added bitterly, "The school still needs approval from the Griffith side for the new campus land. What choice does the dean have? He can only accept it. The school will consider compensating your losses later."

When I left the office, my heart pounded like a drum.

So it was him. Luther was the only son of the Griffith family, the wealthiest household in Jouleston. He was a third-year business major and a notorious campus trust-fund brat.

The irony was that Luther's petty habits were no secret to me, of all people.

During freshman year, someone had posted on the forum that they had seen him swipe a public power bank from the library.

Others claimed his dorm locker was packed with "found" items: a roommate's lighter, game cartridges from the neighboring room, and even a janitor's mop abandoned in the hallway.

Every post vanished without a trace. That made sense. No one would believe it anyway. The Griffith family was obscenely rich. Why would their son steal?

I never understood it myself. But my recorder had captured every word of the conversation between Edwin and me.

I pulled up the legal provisions saved on my phone, and the corner of my mouth lifted despite myself. "Luther, buying my dream home again might just depend on you."

Later, I went to the cafeteria, tray in hand, and stood at the back of the line.

"Well, if it isn't the poisoner."

Before I could turn around, a hand shot out. Five fingers hooked the edge of my tray. With a loud clang, the tray hit the floor. Gravy splashed everywhere.

I looked up. Luther stood over me with three well-dressed guys behind him.

"Eating the cheapest set every day," he sneered. "And you still try to order delivery like everyone else?"

He went on, "If you're going to order, fine. But poisoning it? Now the whole school knows you."

Students gathered around us, whispering.

Luther's smile widened. "Finnick Lynch, do yourself a favor and drop out. Getting expelled later will look worse."

I crouched, picked up the tray, and laughed at him. "No matter how bad it gets, it will never look worse than someone who eats shit."

His smile froze.

I kept going, my voice light. "That bowl of soup? I had mixed the broth with water squeezed out of an old bathroom mop."

Luther's face drained of color.

"Soaked overnight," I added. "Still foamy when I wrung it out. I even added a little, fresh contribution from the last person who used the toilet. The smell? Completely covered by the vegetables. Did you taste it?"

"Shut up!" Luther roared, clapping a hand over his mouth.

He doubled over. "Ugh…"

The guys beside him gagged and threw up as well. It seemed they had eaten my delivery too.

The crowd erupted.

"No way! Was it really him who stole it?"

"What the hell, that twist was fast…"

Luther wiped his mouth, his eyes bloodshot.

"Finnick, you bastard!" He lunged for my collar. "You think Hazel would ever like trash like you? Keep dreaming!"

I froze. Information raced through my mind. Hazel was the top protégé of a senior academician in the chemistry department and a rumored future Nobel contender. The school treated her like fragile glass. Even the chancellor showed her open courtesy.

More absurdly, she came from serious money. She was beautiful to an unfair degree, the campus' famous ice queen, and had never dated anyone.

Luther liking her made perfect sense.

But what did he mean just now? Hazel liking me?

Luther finished retching and stepped closer. His lips twisted with malice. "At the mediation meeting, I won't let you off. I'll make sure you're thrown out of this school."