Justice Served over Takeout

The school stepped in to mediate. Each side was allowed to bring only one companion into the room.

Luther sat beside his mother, Ivy Reed. Her hair was curled into careful waves, and her eyes swept over me from head to toe with sharp scrutiny.

I scanned the conference room and spotted a familiar figure by the window.

It was Jackson Shaw. With him there, I did not feel completely alone.

A man in a suit stood. "I am Mrs. Griffith's legal counsel. Based on the evidence we have, you placed unidentified substances into a food delivery. As a result, my client's son suffered acute gastroenteritis and required hospitalization. This satisfies the elements of the crime of placing dangerous substances."

He paused and looked at me as though granting a concession. "Given that you are still a student, Mrs. Griffith is only requesting the following."

He raised three fingers. "First, compensation for emotional distress in the amount of 100,000 dollars. Second, a public apology. A recorded video, pinned to the campus forum for one week. Third, voluntary withdrawal from the school."

The director of academic affairs cleared his throat. "Given that Finnick's usual academic performance is acceptable, the withdrawal clause can be set aside for now."

Luther suddenly covered his face. His shoulders shook violently.

"I didn't steal it!" he cried. "That day, I saw a delivery on the table. I thought my roommate brought it for me… How was I supposed to know it was yours? I didn't do it on purpose!"

Ivy wrapped an arm around him and glared at me as if she wanted to carve me open. "Exactly. Who hasn't eaten the wrong thing before?"

Luther pointed at me, his finger trembling. "If something serious had happened to me, this would have been attempted murder!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Article 232 of the Criminal Law," I said calmly. "The crime of intentional homicide requires subjective intent to deprive another person of life."

I met his gaze. "Now tell me, how was I supposed to predict that you would steal my food?"

His sobbing cut off mid-breath. He clearly had not expected me to know the statute so well.

The lawyer raised a hand. "Even if this does not rise to the level of homicide, it still constitutes intentional poisoning. According to the hospital test results—"

"E. coli levels exceeded the standard?" I cut in. "Since when is that classified as poison? And may I ask, what category does mop water fall under?"

Luther clamped a hand over his mouth and started gagging again. His face drained of color. This time, the nausea looked real.

Ivy's expression darkened.

I reached into my backpack and took out my recorder. "I'd like everyone to listen to a short recording."

As soon as the device appeared, the male assistant behind the lawyer stood and moved toward me.

"Hold on," he said with forced cheer. "We've been talking for quite a while. That must be tiring. Have some water."

He handed me a cup, then tipped it. The water spilled out in a rush, soaking straight into the seams of the recorder.

I snatched it back and pressed the power button. The screen lit up. It still worked. I had just started to relax when someone slammed into my arm.

It was Jackson.

The recorder flew from my hand, sailed through the open window, and shattered on the ground below.

"My bad, my bad!" Jackson said in a panic. "I saw the assistant trying to grab your things. I was trying to block him… I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Something clicked in my mind, then snapped.

When the assistant spilled the water, Jackson had been sitting to my right. If he truly meant to help, he could have spoken up then. Why wait?

Panic, guilt, and avoidance flickered in his eyes.

Across the table, Luther and his mother wore satisfied smiles.

The lawyer gathered his documents with calm precision. "Three days. If the 100,000 dollars and the apology video are not delivered, we will proceed through formal legal channels."

He added, "At that point, you should prepare to leave the school."

A strange excitement spread through me. I was known for arguing people into corners, and I never backed down when it mattered.