Principal Martinez's office hadn't changed much since Jason's last visited more than a decade ago. Same motivational posters on the walls, same fake leather chairs that stuck to your legs in summer, same smell of burnt coffee and administrative desperation.
"Have a seat, Jason," Martinez said, closing the door behind them. He walked around his desk and settled into his chair with the practiced weariness of someone who'd been dealing with teenagers for twenty years.
Jason sat down and waited. In his experience, both as a student and as a prosecutor, the person who spoke first usually revealed more than they intended to.
Martinez opened a manila folder on his desk and pulled out several sheets of paper. "We need to discuss your recent academic performance."
"My grades?"
"Specifically, your chemistry and calculus tests from last week." Martinez spread the papers across his desk so Jason could see them. Both tests were marked with bright red A's at the top. "Care to explain how you went from C averages to perfect scores overnight?"
Jason looked at the tests, then at Martinez. "I studied."
"You studied." Martinez leaned back in his chair. "Jason, I've been doing this job for fifteen years. I've seen every kind of cheating imaginable. Kids writing answers on their hands, hiding notes in their calculators, copying from their neighbors. But I've never seen someone improve this dramatically this quickly without some kind of external assistance."
"External assistance?"
"Tutoring. Test prep. Or..." Martinez paused meaningfully. "Someone giving you the answers in advance."
Jason felt a flash of anger. "You think I cheated?"
"I think you had help. The question is what kind of help." Martinez pulled out another sheet of paper. "This is your academic record for the past three years. C's and B-minuses across the board. Solid but unremarkable. Then suddenly, in the span of two weeks, you're acing advanced chemistry and calculus tests that half the honor students struggled with."
"Maybe I'm smarter than you thought."
"Maybe. Or maybe someone's been feeding you answers." Martinez leaned forward. "Jason, if you're involved in some kind of cheating ring, now's the time to come clean. Academic dishonesty is a serious offense, but cooperation can make a difference in how we handle this."
Jason studied the principal's face. Martinez wasn't fishing blindly—he genuinely suspected something was wrong. But he was focused on the wrong kind of wrong.
"Mr. Martinez, did any of my teachers actually accuse me of cheating?"
"Not in so many words, but—"
"Did anyone see me looking at notes during the tests? Copying from another student? Using my phone?"
"No, but—"
"Did you find any evidence of cheating materials in my possession?"
Martinez was quiet for a moment. "No."
"Then what exactly are you accusing me of?"
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm trying to understand how a student who's been academically average for three years suddenly starts performing like he's been taking advanced courses."
Jason chose his words carefully. "Maybe I finally started paying attention. Maybe I realized that if I actually applied myself, I could do better than C's."
"That's a hell of a revelation to have all at once."
"Sometimes it takes a wake-up call."
Martinez picked up one of the test papers and examined it more closely. "Your work on this calculus test... it's not just correct, Jason. It's elegant. You solved these problems using methods that aren't even covered in your textbook."
"I did some independent reading."
"What kind of independent reading?"
"Math journals. Online courses. I wanted to understand the concepts better."
Martinez set the paper down and looked at Jason directly. "Son, I'm going to be straight with you. In my fifteen years as principal, I've never seen a transformation like this that didn't involve either intensive tutoring or academic dishonesty. Your teachers are concerned. Your guidance counselor is concerned. Hell, I'm concerned."
"Concerned about what?"
"About what's really going on with you. Fighting in the parking lot, sudden academic improvement, and according to some students, you've been acting like a completely different person."
Jason felt the walls closing in slightly. He'd been so focused on building his financial foundation that he hadn't considered how his academic performance would draw attention.
"People change, Mr. Martinez. Sometimes they grow up."
"This fast? This dramatically?" Martinez shook his head. "Jason, I want to help you here. If someone's pressuring you to cheat, if you're involved in something you can't get out of, there are resources available. But you have to be honest with me."
"I am being honest."
"Are you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're hiding something."
Martinez wasn't wrong. Jason was hiding something—he was hiding eighteen years of education and experience that didn't belong to a seventeen-year-old boy. But he couldn't exactly explain that to a high school principal.
"Mr. Martinez, what would it take to convince you that I'm not cheating?"
"I don't know. Maybe if you could replicate this performance under controlled conditions."
"What kind of conditions?"
Martinez thought for a moment. "Take another test. Right now. In my office. I'll watch you the entire time, no materials except a pen and paper."
Jason considered this. On one hand, it was a risk—if he performed too well, it would only raise more questions. On the other hand, if he performed poorly, it would validate Martinez's suspicions and potentially lead to more scrutiny.
"What subject?"
"Chemistry. Dr. Peterson has some practice tests for the AP exam. College-level material. If you can handle advanced calculus, this should be manageable."
"And if I pass?"
"Then I'll stop questioning your academic integrity. But Jason..." Martinez's voice carried a warning. "If you fail, or if your performance is dramatically different from last week, we're going to have a much more serious conversation."
Jason nodded. "Fair enough."
Martinez picked up his phone and dialed an extension. "Mrs. Hartley? Could you bring me one of the practice tests from your filing cabinet? Yes, the short version." He hung up and looked at Jason. "Fifteen minutes. Three questions. If you're really as smart as your recent grades suggest, this should be easy."
"What subject?"
"Legal studies. Since you seem to have a talent for analyzing complex problems."
Jason felt his pulse quicken slightly. Legal studies was his specialty, but he couldn't let that show.
While they waited, Martinez continued studying Jason's academic file. "You know what's really interesting? Your improvement coincides almost exactly with the incident in the parking lot. It's like beating up Brad Morrison flipped some kind of switch in your brain."
"Maybe it did."
Before Jason could say more, there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Hartley from the guidance office entered with a single sheet of paper.
"Here's the test you requested," she said, handing it to Martinez. "Three questions, fifteen-minute time limit."
"Perfect." Martinez turned to Jason and placed the paper face-down on the desk. "You have exactly fifteen minutes. No materials except a pen. Start when I say go."
Jason nodded and picked up his pen.
"Go."
Jason flipped over the paper and his eyes widened slightly. Constitutional law. Fourth Amendment search and seizure. Corporate criminal liability. Prosecutorial discretion.
'This is too easy,' he thought, his pen already moving. 'These are questions I could answer in my sleep.'
The first question asked about warrantless searches under the Fourth Amendment. Jason's hand moved across the paper without hesitation, citing exceptions like exigent circumstances and the automobile doctrine as if he'd argued these points in court a hundred times before.
Which he had.
The second question dealt with corporate criminal liability versus civil penalties. Jason found himself writing about prosecutorial strategy and the balance between individual accountability and corporate settlements. He caught himself referencing specific DOJ policies before crossing out the line and simplifying his answer.
'Too detailed,' he warned himself. 'You're supposed to be seventeen.'
The third question was about prosecutorial discretion in white-collar cases. Jason almost smiled as he wrote. This was literally his area of expertise. He discussed cooperation agreements, plea bargaining strategies, and the factors prosecutors weighed when deciding whether to bring charges.
He set down his pen and glanced at the clock. Seven minutes.
Martinez stared at him. "You're done?"
"Yeah. The questions were pretty straightforward."
"Let me see." Martinez picked up the paper and began reading. His eyebrows rose higher with each line.
Jason watched the principal's expression change from skepticism to confusion to something approaching alarm.
"Jason," Martinez said slowly, still reading. "Where did you learn about prosecutorial discretion guidelines?"
"Legal websites. I read a lot online."
"And corporate criminal liability standards?"
"Same place."
Martinez set the paper down and looked directly at Jason. "Son, I need to be honest with you. This wasn't a high school test."
Jason felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean?"
"This was a third-year law school exam. I got it from my nephew at Columbia Law. I thought maybe you'd struggle with one question, prove you weren't some kind of academic prodigy."
The office went silent except for the tick of the wall clock.
Martinez picked up the test again. "But you didn't just answer these questions correctly. You demonstrated genuine understanding of complex legal principles."
Jason tried to keep his expression neutral. "I just have a good memory for what I read."
Martinez leaned back in his chair, a smile spreading across his face. "You know what? I owe you an apology. I was completely wrong about the cheating accusations."
"What do you mean?"
"Jason, you're a prodigy. Bay Ridge High has produced a legal prodigy, and I've been sitting here accusing you of academic dishonesty." Martinez stood up and walked around his desk. "We should get you into the legal club. Hell, we should start a legal club just for you."
"Mr. Martinez—"
"Think about it. You could represent our school in academic competitions. Mock trial tournaments. Maybe even get some college scouts interested." Martinez was getting excited now, his voice picking up energy. "With knowledge like this, you could probably get into any law school in the country."
Jason felt the situation spiraling out of control. The last thing he needed was more attention, more scrutiny, more opportunities for people to dig into his background.
"I'm not really interested in clubs."
"Not interested? Jason, you just demonstrated knowledge that most law students would envy. You have a natural gift for legal reasoning."
"I'm just good at taking tests."
"This isn't about taking tests. This is about your future." Martinez sat on the edge of his desk. "With your abilities, you could have your pick of colleges. Full scholarships. Fast-track programs."
Jason stood up and shouldered his backpack. "Can I go back to class now?"