The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter thirty-seven

"I'm sorry too," he said.

Principal Brogan emerged from his office, gesturing them over. "Agents, please come in. Have a seat."

The cluttered space the man in charge occupied was the opposite of Price's. Price was cold, organized, and clinical. Mr. Brogan had pennants on the walls and endless class photos pinned on display. It was a mess, but a spirited one. Nolan knew Price would hate it on sight.

Mr. Brogan took turns shaking each of their hands. They exchanged the typical introductions, and Nolan felt strange introducing himself as Agent Foster. He'd been mistaken for a student initially, and he wasn't sure that gave him much authority.

Nolan sat down next to the lanky boy sprawled out in a chair. He was staring at the ground, tapping his fingers impatiently against the fabric of his jeans. It was clear that he didn't want to be there, and judging by the severity of the situation, he wasn't going to be let out anytime soon.

The principal sat down in his chair, folding his wrinkled hands in front of him. He peered at them through wire glasses that highlighted the lines of his face. His hair was sprinkled with gray, much like Price's. His demeanor was vastly different, which helped Nolan feel a little more comfortable.

"I'd like to hear what happened," Kaytee said. She poked her head out and tried to get the boy's attention. "In your own words. What's your name?"

"Trayven," the boy grumbled.

"It's nice to meet you, Trayven," she responded genuinely. "I'm Kaytee."

Trayven kept his mouth shut.

Nolan wasn't sure if he should chime in. He felt silly, completely out of his element as he sat there.

"Trayven," Principal Brogan chastised. "It's incredibly rude for you to ignore Agent Carlisle."

Trayven glared at Mr. Brogan hatefully. "I'm expelled either way, aren't I? So what's the fucking point?"

"The point is that we have reason to believe you're involved in a gang," Nolan chimed in, breaking his mute streak for the first time.

Trayven raised an eyebrow, sizing Nolan up. "Shit, I didn't know the skinny white guy had any balls at all."

Nolan swore Mr. Brogan's face reddened with embarrassment, probably on Trayven's behalf. The principal began to apologize, but Kaytee shut it down.

"We understand," Kaytee said. "It's a sensitive subject, and if this young man doesn't want to talk I won't make him. Principal Brogan, if you would, I'd like to know what happened."

"I gave a full report to local law enforcement," Mr. Brogan said, confused.

"It helps us to hear it for ourselves," Nolan told him. "For the sake of clarity, do you mind sharing it again?"

"I suppose not." Mr. Brogan popped a mint in his mouth. Nolan realized he was probably the type to do that all day long. His mother was like that too. He figured it must be a habit people picked up on with age.

"A student shared an anonymous tip on our safety hotline. We called Trayven out of class to search his car, and when we did, we found a stash of marijuana, alcohol, and an unloaded gun. Apparently, he was dealing to his classmates."

"It's good money," Trayven said bluntly. "I'm an entrepreneur."

"Do you think this is funny?" Principal Brogan demanded. "These are federal agents who could very well arrest you for your involvement in this dangerous game you're playing. Are we clear?"

Trayven's mouth snapped shut.

"What makes you believe Trayven is in a gang?" Kaytee prodded. "Surely there must be evidence to suggest so."