Long after everyone cleared out of the stadium, Callan and I still sat on the bleachers. The police had taped off the field so nobody could enter it and then removed our principal’s head from the grass.
“Was it Poison on the intercom?” I asked.
“Yep.”
I turned in his embrace and straddled his waist with my arms around his shoulders. “Did you know that they had decapitated him?” I whispered. “Is that why you brought me here to watch tonight? To show me that he got his payback?”
“Did I know?” He chuckled, large hands gripping my waist. “I did it.”
My eyes widened. “You what?”
He peered over at me, his dark eyes glimmering underneath the bright lights. “I chopped off that motherfucker’s head,” he said with no ounce of remorse, no pity, and absolutely no guilt about any of it.
Callan ha
