“Mr Sam, I need you to come down to my office in the next five minutes. It's urgent.” Principal Churchill's voice was curt and clipped at the other end of the line. Almost like she was thunder about to crack.

My brows shot up as I swung my legs off the sofa to the floor, pushing the bowl of ice-cream I had on my lap on the center table. “Wait you're serious? I don't work for you anymore.”

“This isn't about working for me, I need you to get the hell down here as fast as possible. You've got a lot on your plate to explain.”

As soon as she'd said that it dawned on me. That the reason for this urgency could be connected largely to the fact that I witnessed her son commit a serious crime last week, and did nothing about it. She was going to serve up a whole shit-storm on me the minute I stepped into that office and I'd be dumb if I allowed her treat me like dirt even after I was no longer working for her. I'd already applied for jobs in New York and had interviews piled up next month.