It’s not like she knows every single student who goes to this school, but she knows for sure that there isn’t one with the power of bullshittery. But his enrollment status is probably second priority to not shattering all his tiny little bones. And if she’s got her geography right, that’s the drug bush under this window. Seventeen year olds suck at this. She can smell the weed from up here.
“You’re not, though, are you.”
No telepathy about it, just good old fashioned making kids own up to when they say dumbass lies to explain the stupid bad thing they’re doing.
“I don’t have any fly out the window and save you superpowers, so seriously, get in from the window before you die. I don’t want to tell you how I know this, but if you hit the ground from here, you’re going, to die.”
(If he goes headfirst. Maybe. Nitpicking cautionary tales is third priority.)
Yeah! He lied! So what! Kids lie! Clowns lie! Everyone lies!
He knows her. He so super knows her. Okay, sure, he knows her like he knows his friends’s older sisters: never once said a word to them, have only ever seen them from a socially inept distance that was self enforced due to some implicit and unspoken rivalry between friend (or: mom) and sibling-of-friend (or: clown mob), and sometimes are forced to eat dinner together at a dining room table. So, maybe that last one doesn’t exactly fit. The comparison isn’t perfect, but you get it. They’re enemies. This isn’t his arch-nemesis or anything. She’s no clown mob boss. But he’s seen her around them. He hasn’t seen her in awhile, though. He sort of forgot about her. This can’t be a coincidence. She’s alone, he thinks. He’ll have to be careful. Look at her! Pretending to be a teacher! She’s good!
“No thanks! I’m fine out here, actually!” He leans an arm on the side of the window frame. Cooly. Casually. “The breeze is really nice! Really, really good! Even better up here!”
He smiles, and he tries his best to not make it look forced. He used to have a lot of fake smile practice when he, you know, had a mom who wasn’t taken by the clown mob and constantly wanted to take pictures of him. (He should’ve just let her take pictures of him.) He leans out, a little, and peaks down at the drug bush. It is a long way down. At least four hims tall. He could wear his backpack on his stomach and maybe survive the jump. That’s option Last Resort. We need option Good. Something like: he doesn’t fall into any drug bushes and makes it into the school, and she goes somewhere far away and doesn’t kidnap him and turn him over to the clown mob.
