A thousand answers come to mind. Peter’s eyes flit over the headmaster’s shoulder to the messy handwriting scrawled across the chalkboard on the wall. ‘I will not be tardy to class,’ is written about a hundred times, filling the board from top to bottom. To deliver justice long overdue. To end two hundred years of cyclical misery and fear. To end you. But instead of revealing the hard truth too soon, Peter just smiles pleasantly. “Because I’ve missed Croftmire dearly, Headmaster Johnson.”
12
