Page 77 of See Me After Class

"Join us." Leon waved him over. "We're having an open discussion about Dessie."

"Oh."

Viktor looked like he was going to turn and vanish for a second, but then he decided not to and came over to sit down beside Leon. "I must confess, that is why I am here as well."

"Join the party." Leon scratched his chin. "What's eating at you?"

"Nothing," he grumbled. Then, he looked at me and sighed. "I just noticed she's not here. And, well… I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. At all."

"Welcome to the club," I rumbled.

"Okay, but what were you about to say?" Leon asked impatiently.

"A few nights back, Dessie was in my office without my knowledge."

"What? Why?"

I shook my head. "No idea," I said honestly. "She was going through documents, her eyes wild with… something I couldn't decipher."

Leon's eyes narrowed. "Documents? What documents?"

I told him everything from the night and last and how Dessie was masking what looked a lot like devastation.

"You know there's only one way to understand what the hell is going on, right?" Leon asked at the end.

"I hate the idea," Viktor interjected. "We aren't schoolgirls."

"Oh, shut up," Leon replied, waving at him like he was an annoying fly. "We're not doing it out of malice or to write long paragraphs under the guise ofGossip Girl. Let's just call it… necessary reconnaissance."

"But I thought we all agreed she's not the enemy."

"She's a mystery. That's just as dangerous, if not more."

I relented. "Let's go."

The three of us left the office and walked past hallways until we ascended the creaking stairs to the junior staff wing, the silence broken only by the rhythmic thud of our shoes. Dessie's room was eerily still, even by her standards. As we crossed the threshold, the air grew thick with the scent of coffee.

Viktor, his eyes like lasers, scanned the room. Leon, his movements gentle, began sifting through her belongings. I felt adrift, a lost ship in a sea of uncertainties.

A worn leather album, tucked away in a dusty corner, caught my eye. The name, embossed in gold, sent a jolt through me.Desdemona Cassandra Miller Gardner.

"For fuck's sake." I opened the album. The first photo was enough to break every last iota of sanity I'd retained.

Oswald Gardner. Beside him, standing in front of this very institute—possibly before I'd joined it—stood Dessie. The caption read,Dad and I before we fought over the origins of beer.

"You guys are going to want to look at this."

Leon came behind me, followed by Viktor. They looked at the same things I had. All of us were silent.

"Well, okay. So we know she's lied about her identity. Why to us, though?"

Like pieces of a puzzle falling together, a scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. Viktor picked it up and held it up so all of us could see. On it, scrawled in her sharp hand, were our names,John,Viktor,Leon.

And below,Which of these men killed Oswald, and why?

The air crackled with a sudden voltage. The question, a poisoned barb, pierced the fragile bubble of control we'd constructed. We were no longer just observers, no longer detached players in a twisted game. We were suspects.

Dessie had been out for blood. Our blood. But…