Raymond had been sitting with his chin in his hands. He looked up and nodded.
Mrs. Núñez cleared her throat. “I’m going to have to keep Simon’s phone and hand it over to the police. They will do their own investigation.”
My stomach lurched. My mother did a quick translation for my father, and I was afraid to look in his direction. But I could see Mrs. March blinking her blue eyes furiously.
“The police?” she echoed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am, Mrs. March. It’s stated quite clearly in our school district’s code of conduct.” Mrs. Núñez reached behind her desk for one of those little yellow booklets that we get every year on the first day of school and handed it to Mrs. March.
Simon’s mother started leafing through it, then nudged it toward his father. His dad slapped it away.
“I’m not reading that idiotic publication!” he declared. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. These are kids we’re dealing with, not criminals. I’ll call my lawyer first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll get this situation straightened out. Come on, Caroline,” he snapped at Mrs. March. “You too, Simon.”
But then Mrs. March found the page with the school’s sexting policy. Ignoring her husband, she started reading lines from the booklet aloud and asking Mrs. Núñez questions.
“What does this mean—a ‘wide distribution of a lewd image without consent … the intent to harm another person’? I don’t see anything here about the police … ”
While his mother continued firing questions at Mrs. Núñez, Simon slumped against a metal filing cabinet. His eyes were closed, as if he had a headache.
I finally cast a nervous look at my own parents. My father’s face was pale, and he kept rolling a button on his shirt between his fingers. Then I looked at my mother. Her eyes were fixed on mine—again.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed at her, shaking my head. “Sorry, Mom.”
She didn’t say anything. She just kept staring at me, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
As if she were trying to figure out who I was.
The hardest part about being suspended for five days was being home—around my parents—for all that time. They made me work in the bodega, but they were barely talking to me. And I didn’t want to talk to them either.
There was no way to explain why I’d sent that text message to Simon.
He wanted a naked photo of me, Dad!
Everybody sexts their boyfriends, Mom!
So all week we worked side by side—waiting on customers, preparing food, sweeping the floor, wiping down counters, counting money—in near silence.
Someday things will be okay between us, I told myself. But anytime I looked at my parents, that day felt far away.
My first day back at school, I got summoned to Mrs. Núñez’s office near the end of the afternoon. I was glad to see that it was just me—no Simon.
She pointed to a chair in front of her desk. “Sit down, Daisy.”
I sat.
“Simon got his phone back,” she said. “And the police are finished with their investigation. You should both consider yourselves lucky that they concluded nothing criminal happened. I’ll call your parents to let them know.”
I let out my breath. Thank God, I thought. I knew my parents were going to be just as relieved.
“The Marches have a good lawyer,” the principal went on. “That certainly helped. Still, I hope you learned a lesson. Whenever you text someone, or post something online, it doesn’t belong to just you anymore. You lose control of it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I forced myself to make eye contact with her. “Yes,” I answered. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
“Good,” she answered. “There’s very little time left in this school year. I strongly suggest that you spend most of it studying for your finals.”
I nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“One more thing … ” Her expression softened a little bit. “I enjoyed the talent show, and so did Mr. and Mrs. Kim. I’m proud of you kids for trying to help their family.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Núñez.”
The next day, I joined Nora and Eddie in the cafeteria and filled them in on my meeting with Mrs. Núñez. They were both glad that I didn’t have to worry about the police anymore.
“So now you can move on, Daisy,” Eddie said. “Your … um, unfortunate incident is over.”
“I guess,” I said with a shrug. I took a bite of my salad. “I’m just not sure that I can ever—”
Just then the two TV monitors mounted on each side of the lunchroom blinked on. It was time for the daily announcements.
My body stiffened as Simon’s face came into focus. He began broadcasting the day’s news.
“This afternoon, Chess Club is meeting in the library. Boys’ tennis players, please report to the gym at … ”
I stared up at his face. As always, I noticed his blond hair and bright white teeth. Someday he probably would be a famous sportscaster or a news anchor. But to me he’d become a total stranger. I couldn’t believe he’d been my boyfriend only a few weeks earlier.
I listened to him run through the scores from yesterday’s athletic events. Then he announced details about the senior prom.
How could you do that to me? I thought for the millionth time. We’d held hands. We’d kissed and done more together. But none of that had stopped Simon from forwarding those photos to hundreds of other people.
According to my parents, you were supposed to forgive people who hurt you. But I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive Simon for what he’d done. Because even though Eddie said my “unfortunate incident” was over, it wasn’t, really. It would never be over. The topless picture I’d taken of myself was still on lots of people’s phones. It was a permanent image—it couldn’t be erased.
“Yoo-hoo! Daisy! Is anybody home?”
Nora was knocking gently on my forehead to get my attention.
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I was daydreaming.”
“No kidding,” she told me. “You were on another planet. Anyway, before the announcements came on, you were in the middle of telling of us something.”
“Yeah,” I started. “I … ”
I looked up at Simon’s face again. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Are you sure?” asked Nora.
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Well, then we’ve got something to tell you,” she said. “We counted our profits from the talent show. And we made a ton of money for Mr. Kim!”
“Yep,” Eddie chimed in. “Plus, last week some kids and teachers made more donations. Mrs. Frank got us a check for the Kims, and it’s for—”
“Five thousand and fifty-six dollars!” said Nora proudly. “That’s a pretty great start.”
“Wow!” I said. “We’re amazing!”
“Yes, we are,” my friends agreed.
“Hey, you guys!” Ella hurried over to our table, holding up her phone. “You have to see these photos.”
Oh no. I inhaled sharply.
“They’re from the talent show,” Ella went on. “Look, Daisy. There you are hula-hooping. And here’s a shot of Mr. Kim laughing and clapping for you.”
Whew. I let out my breath.
“These are really good pics,” said Nora. “Maybe we can even get them in the yearbook. If it’s not too late.”
I smiled as I looked at myself. My hair was sticking up, and I was making a weird face as I twirled the glittery pink Hula-Hoop around my right arm.
Once I never would have let a picture like this appear in the yearbook. But now the image seemed perfect.
Susan Korman is the author of more than thirty books for children and teenagers. She lives in Yardley, Pennsylvania, with her husband and children.
Overexposed Page 5
