“Bren.” Principal Broghers waved a hand toward the chair across from his desk.
He must’ve dyed his hair because his normal half-white frizz with a reddish tint was dark red now. And he’d learned how to manscape. His eyebrows were usually bushy, but today they were trimmed.
He was still skinny, and he was distracted this morning. Though freshly colored, his hair seemed more harried than last week. It was literally sticking up. His gaze was focused on his computer, and he cursed softly under his breath, running a hand over his pointy chin before clicking something, then sitting back and focusing on me.
“Miss Monroe.”
I’d recently watched The Matrix, and I was tempted to correct him by saying, “Mr. Anderson” in return. Or maybe I was just missing Principal Neeon. Who knew. I doubted the l
