<b>Chapter </b>413


    Back at school, sses had yet to begin. It was still the lunch break study period.


    Jenna nced up in surprise as Mirabe breezed back into the room far earlier than expected. “Back so soon? Did you get everything sorted out with that old man?”


    Mirabe pulled a book from beneath her desk, flipping it open as she replied, “Not exactly. He’s already been discharged from the hospital.”


    “Ah… so you went there for nothing?” Jenna touched the tip of her nose, a gesture of mild awkwardness.


    “Yep,” Mirabe confirmed, with a nonchnt nod.


    Suddenly remembering something, Mirabe turned to Jenna. “Can I use your phone to make a call?”


    “Sure.” Jenna fished out her smartphone, unlocked it, and handed it over to Mirabe.


    With the phone in hand, Mirabe stepped out through the ssroom’s back door. Once out in the corridor<b>, </b>she tapped the screen, pulling up the dial pad to punch in a number. It was the same number that the old man had called from the previous night while she was at James‘ ce.


    The phone rang for ages with no answer.


    After hanging up, Mirabe waited a couple of minutes before trying again. This time, the call connected.


    “Hello… Who’s this?”


    Hearing the old man’s voice, Mirabe’s tone was ice–cold. “Oh, it’s you. I heard you’re threatening to make a fuss at the Board of Education?”


    The line


    went dead silent at her words, and then she heard the tell–tale beep of the call being disconnected. Mirabe stared at the phone screen, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. With a swift tap, she redialed. But the phone barely rang once before the call was again abruptly cut off. Clearly, he did not want to talk to her.


    Frowning, Mirabe knew something was off. That old man had inexplicably targeted her and was up to something. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have called the school again that morning.


    Without attempting another call, she turned and walked back into the ssroom, returning Jenna’s phone.,


    Jenna, noticing her friend’s mood seemed even more somber than before, whispered, “Mira, something wrong<b>?</b>”


    Mirabe nced at her and shook her head. <b>“</b>It’s nothing.


    Then<b>, </b>she let it go<b>, </b><b>focusing </b>her attention back on the textbook. After all, it was studying that grounded her and fortified her resolve.


    <b>It </b>wasn’t Shawn or Delh who came to pick her up after school. <b>It </b>was Zach.


    “Zach, <b>why </b>are you the one picking me up today?” Mirabe asked as she approached the car, her curiosity piqued.


    Zach opened the passenger door for his sister. “Mom and Dad were tied up, and I happened to be passing by, so here I am,” he said, raising an eyebrow yfully. “Why? Not happy to see your big bro?”


    “Not at all,” Mirabe replied, sliding into the seat.


    After Zach closed her door, he circled the car, hopped into the driver’s seat, and started the engine, driving away from the school.


    Midway home, Delh called to ask when they’d arrive. Zach responded briefly with “Soon,” then hung up without much chatter.


    “We’ve gotpany at home today,” Zach mentioned suddenly, almost as an afterthought.


    “Guests? Rtives?” Mirabe inquired, ncing his way.


    “Not sure, could be some friends of Mom and Dad,” Zach answered casually.


    “Okay,” Mirabe replied, not particrly concerned–it likely had little to do with her.


    Ten minutester, they pulled into their neighborhood. Mirabe got out to key in the gate code, and the iron gate swung open.


    Zach drove into the garage, and as Mirabe entered the house and changed her shoes, she noticed a pair of unfamiliar leather shoes in the shoe cab.