When she reached me, she repeated the process twice. Her hand rested on mine longer than it had with the others, her expression unreadable. Then she climbed back onto the podium.
"Dearest, esteemed senior students," she said warmly, "you are indeed deserving of your positions. Because of this, I have decided there will be a news conference today concerning your history class."
With that, she stepped down and began making a phone call, already turning away as if everything had been settled.
I was still watching her when a staff member approached and informed me that I had been summoned to the principal's office.
I waited there for nearly thirty minutes before Principal Whitworth finally walked in. He went straight to his chair, sat down, and without saying a word, turned on the screen mounted on the wall.
A news broadcast filled the room.
It was the press conference.
My classmates were being interviewed one after the other, smiling calmly, speaking with confidence. What they said made my chest tighten.
"One of the students said, 'Today's history class was one of the best we've ever had. Mr Wiston taught us the ethics of being good citizens using the story of a Valerian soldier who sacrificed himself so millions could live.'"
Another student followed. "'The lesson showed us that success requires a spirit of self-sacrifice. Sadly, Mr Wiston's asthma acted up, and he had to be rushed to the hospital.'"
Then another voice appeared on the screen. "'I learned so much today about humility and giving our best. I just hope Mr Wiston recovers quickly from his asthma.'"
I stood there, frozen.
That was not what happened.
Not even close.
The truth settled slowly, heavy and cold. The head maid. The guards. The way her eyes changed color. The way she touched each of their hands.
She had erased their memories.
Not just erased them.
Replaced them.
The camera shifted, and the familiar figure in scarlet appeared on the screen. The head maid stood beside the reporters, calm and composed.
Something inside me snapped.
I raised my hand, pointing at the screen, my voice breaking the silence of the office.
"She did it."