Realm Keepers 01 - Realm Keepers

troublemaker and didn’t bother trying any more. That, too, made me feel sorry for him.
    “Well,” said Mister Roberts, “you can get caught up on the lesson after school in detention, Mister Frederickson.”
    “As long as I have access to a toilet,” said Blade, still lounging in the doorway. “I may get the squirts again.” There was another burst of laughter from the class.
    Mister Roberts’ eyes narrowed, his temper finally rising. “Take your seat, Winston.”
    The smile dropped from Blade’s face immediately. Suddenly I felt nervous. Blade wasn’t angry all the time, but when he did get angry, it was scary. The class had fallen silent behind me.
    “My name is Blade,” he said. “Get it right, moron.”
    Mister Roberts stood. “Excuse me?”
    “What? Problem?” said Blade insolently.
    “Sit down, Mister Frederickson,” grated Mister Roberts. “And you’re in detention for a week.”
    Blade held the gaze for a few moments, but finally he strolled over to his seat and dropped into it loudly. The tension in the room eased. I found myself releasing a little whoosh of breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
    I turned to look back at Blade for a second. He looked like he was staring at the ground, but I had a feeling he wasn’t looking at anything at all. He started to look up as he noticed me staring, but I quickly looked away.
    The rest of first period passed quickly. Second and third blew by in a rush. It seemed like the day should be taking forever as I waited for the election results before the final bell, but instead it was passing in a blur. Maybe it was because I was afraid I’d lost and was nervous to find out. If I’d been realistic with myself, the chances of that were slim, but it didn’t stop my nerves from getting frazzled.
    Fourth period looked to be passing as quickly as the first three, but then suddenly the loudspeaker clicked on.
    “Sarah Preston,” came Principal Jones’ familiar voice, “please report to the principal’s office.”
    The room fell dead silent. Slowly, all eyes in the classroom turned to me. I felt heat rising on my neck and ears, even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong.
    What did he want? Had I done something wrong without realizing it? A million possibilities flew through my head, but none of them made sense.
    I left the class with a hall pass and silence from everyone in the room, even the teacher. My lonely footsteps echoed loudly in the hallways as I wove through them to the big black door of Principal Jones’ office. By the time I’d reached it, the only thing I could come up with was that he was going to tell me who’d won the election. They weren’t supposed to announce that for another hour. If I’d won, he’d just wait for me to hear the announcement. I must have lost, and he was calling me into his office to break the news to me. He wanted me to brace myself before getting all of the sympathy from the rest of the school. That had to be it. My heart had dropped into the bottom of my stomach as I knocked on his door.
    “Come in,” he said.
    I entered, and he waved me to a chair in front of his desk without saying a word. His face was serious, and I knew I had been right.
    “Sarah,” said Principal Jones, “am I correct that one of the students you tutor is Miles Grave?”
    The question was so unexpected that it shocked me out of my dread. Miles was a track star and one of the kids I did extra schoolwork with. He didn’t have the best study record in the world, but he really wanted to do well.
    “Yes, he is,” I said, still confused.
    Principal Jones furrowed his brow and steepled his fingers. “Well, unfortunately, Mister Grave was caught cheating on a biology test today. We found a piece of paper with the answers on it below his chair.”
    “What?” I said, too loudly. “That doesn’t make any sense!” I realized I was still talking to the principal and composed myself.
    “Please, go on,” he said, seemingly amused.
    “Principal Jones,” I told him, “Miles aces biology every time we study it. It’s the last subject I would suspect him of cheating on. History, maybe, or geography. But,” I said, holding my hands up, “he’s just not the cheating type. He really works hard, and he’s never tried anything shifty when we’ve been studying.”
    “Hm,” said Principal Jones, pursing his lips. “Hm, hm, hm. Well, we’re still investigating the matter.” He sighed. “And I’ll admit, I’m relieved to