Margot Cleverly's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Margot Cleverly waited until the last bell before she pulled the crate of copper wire from under her desk. The Riverbend Prep showcase was six weeks away, and her students had won nothing in four years. She meant to change that. Not with the school's blessing, and not with the principal's budget. She had found a place off the grounds, a small wooden cabin near the reservoir, and she planned to turn it into a workshop where her students could build the kind of machines that made rival schools go quiet. She was locking her cabinet when the door creaked open behind her. "Still here, Margot?" It was Hollis from the science wing. He carried a clipboard he never seemed to write on, and he had a habit of counting the cars left in the staff lot. He looked at the crate at her feet. He looked at the roll of blueprints under her arm. "Grading," Margot said. "With wire?" She smiled the way she smiled at parents. "Robotics club inventory. You know how the district is about receipts." Hollis stepped closer. He nudged the crate with his shoe. "Odd hour for inventory. Third night this week, isn't it?" Margot's pulse jumped. If he mentioned any of this to the principal, her cabin plan was finished before the first bench was built. She needed him uncurious by morning. She let her shoulders drop. "Alright. You caught me." His eyebrows lifted. "I've been hiding this in my car for a week." She reached into her tote and lifted out the bottle she had bought that afternoon, deep red glass, a quiet label. "It's for your retirement dinner. I was going to wrap it. Now it's just awkward." Hollis blinked at the bottle. His mouth opened, closed. "Please don't tell the others," Margot said. "I wanted mine to be the good one." He took the bottle with both hands. The clipboard sagged against his hip. "Margot. That's — thank you." "The wire really is inventory," she added, laughing a little. "Boring truth." "Of course. Of course." He was already backing toward the door, cradling the bottle like an infant. "Go home. Get some sleep." She listened to his footsteps fade down the hall. Then she locked the classroom, loaded the crate into her trunk, and drove the back road out to the reservoir. The cabin sat where she had left it, shingled roof, small porch, a lantern still burning by the door from her last visit. A hand-painted welcome sign swung on a chain above the step, left by whoever had owned the place before. Margot set the crate down on the porch and unrolled her blueprints against the railing. She had bought herself a week, maybe two. Hollis would drink the wine and remember he was flattered. But he would also remember he had been curious, and eventually he would wonder why. She had to build fast.