Electra's Pov
As I was walking toward class with my girls, laughing at some joke Penelope had just told, the student council leader—a timid, mousy girl named Lillian—rushed over to intercept me.
I didn't even bother masking my irritation as she skidded to a stop in front of us, clutching her folder as if it were some sort of shield. It was far too early for whatever petty complaint or tedious announcement she was bringing me, but then she mentioned the principal wanted to see me urgently.
"Principal Astor?" I repeated, arching a brow, immediately feeling a sour taste settle in my mouth.
I knew Astor well enough to understand that her idea of "urgent" and my idea of "urgent" hardly ever aligned. Half the time, her "urgent" matters were just veiled attempts to lecture me on school rules or remind me, yet again, to "uphold the dignity of my title."
Ridiculous woman.
