by Lilah Walker
“So, what are you saying?” the headmaster asks, his face growing redder by the second. “Are you really trying to tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s what I’m saying. I haven’t even seen these sheets until today.”
The man seems to deflate a little, and begins looking as confused as I feel. If his expression is anything to judge by, he’s at a loss for words. He remains silent for a few seconds, looking from me to the papers on his desk. Then, finally…. “You may leave. I will figure this out and let you know what my decision is soon, Miss Saunders.”
There’s nothing else for me to do but agree. “Okay, sir,” I tell him. But suddenly, my frustration has transformed into fear, and I feel close to tears—utterly helpless.
I run out of the office as quickly as I can, my heart still racing. Who could do something like this to me? I make a detour to the restroom and wash my face, trying to clear my head and stall out the tears threatening to come. By the time I get back to the class, lunchtime has already started, but Katelyn and Ariel are waiting for me by my desk. They want to know what happened—for that matter, so do I.
Still, I refuse to tell them in the classroom; we have to get away from the teacher’s ears, even if I know he’ll probably hear about it in the teacher’s lounge, considering how small a school this is. “We should go to the café. I need to drink some water, please.”
As we enter the café, I can feel the eyes of the other students turning in my direction. I immediately realize they’ve caught wind of what’s happening—if nothing else, they know I’m in trouble for something. Too many of them look like they might know the whole story, though, and I wonder how the information traveled to them so fast, given that I just returned from the headmaster’s office. I immediately sit my friends down and tell them what happened. Katelyn and Ariel’s shoulders drop in despair when I do.
Finally, I have to break the silence, “Is this as bad as I think? I mean…. This is awful, right?”
“Damn, Aleta. Why would someone set you up like this?” Katelyn asks.
“If the headmaster finds a student is guilty of something like this, they’ll get expelled,” Ariel says gently. “So, yeah, it’s bad. I don’t want to imagine that happening to you, Aleta.”
“What do you think will happen?” I ask Katelyn. “I mean, seriously, I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Katelyn shakes her head, as confused as me. “I know you didn’t,” she says quietly.
The whole situation terrifies me. I have no explanation why someone would change my score on a major test—wouldn’t I be the only one with a motive to do it? And I know I’m not the one who changed it. It’s bizarre.
“This is so fucked up, Aleta. I believe you’ll be fine, though. I expect the investigations to be thorough before they come to any conclusion. They shouldn’t punish you since you didn’t do it. And there’s no way they can prove you did since it wasn’t you to begin with. I’m just concerned someone would do this to you, and go so far to hurt you.”
I understand what Katelyn’s saying perfectly. Somebody went out of their way to hurt me here. And there’s no doubt that the headmaster will call my grandparents if this situation escalates. That’s the worst part. They’ve done so much for me, I don’t know how I can face them with something like this.
I didn’t do it, yeah, but will they believe me?
∞∞∞∞∞
Lunch is nearly over, but I’m still sitting with Ariel and Katelyn when Janyce and some of her friends leave their table to head towards us. They have a vicious look in their eyes, as if to say, ‘We got her.’
“How does it feel to be a cheat, loser?” Janyce asks once they’ve reached our table.
I aim to look as strong as I can, but I don’t know if I’m succeeding. At the least, I’m not responding; neither are my friends. Janyce and company stand there for about a minute, saying nothing more, and we remain frozen beside them.
I need them to leave. It’s taking everything in me not to throw a plate in one of their faces, and I’m getting more pissed with every passing second. I know she wants me to respond, though, just like I know I’ll lose my cool if I do. The last thing I need is to be dragged back into the headmaster’s office to account for a fight in the café.
And then, the most unexpected thing happens. Lowell approaches our table, too. I didn’t even realize he was there in the café with us, but he strolls towards us with his closest friends, Myles and Alec. The same trio we saw on that very first day I came to S.A.
He hasn’t bothered me since exams, and I kind of thought he’d lost interest. But today of all days, this isn’t what I need. I’m already a nervous mess, and I don’t have the energy to wonder what he wants. He’s probably coming to rub it in like Janyce. Vaguely, I notice Katelyn’s eyes widening in horror at the sight of him.
As soon as they notice Lowell approaching, Janyce’s group repositions themselves. The girls shift backwards to give Janyce, their star girl, space to shine. She stands with her right hand on her hip, flashing a fake smile at Lowell.
“Hey, Low!” she says in a singsong voice.
He doesn’t respond. He just steps closer to the table, looking directly at me. “Are they disturbing you?” he asks, pointing at the girls.
I think Janyce pales just a touch, and I see Ariel’s mouth drop open in surprise. As for me, my heart’s in my stomach.
I shake my head ‘No’. Maybe I shake my head a little too much.
He turns to face Janyce and her group, and I watch as he and his friends give them a long, hard stare. They don’t even have to talk. The message is simple, and clear enough. Janyce’s friends take nervous steps back, and then Janyce gives a little snort and twirls on her heel.
In another second, the girls are gone, and I’m in shock.
Why did he come to my defense like that?
As soon as the last of the girls leaves the café, he turns back to me. “It’s okay, Aleta. I know you didn’t do it.”
Before I can grasp what’s going on, he and his friends head for the exit. I’m rooted to my seat for some time. And I’m not the only one who’s been surprised—I can see the shock written on my friends’ faces, too.
This is the first time he’s spoken to me directly since that first day, strange as that seems now that I think about it. Lately, it’s been mostly staring, or him blocking my way.
Is there a good person lurking somewhere in there?
The entire scene happened within a few minutes, but now we’re in danger of being late. No more sitting in shock for us; we have to get to the next class.
Throughout the rest of the day, though, questions run through my mind. First, who is trying to get me kicked out of school? Could it be Janyce, given the way she acted? But, maybe more importantly to my sanity…why did Lowell show me that support?
CHAPTER TWELVE
T he teacher of our A.P. English class walks in during the ninth week of class, and informs us of our major project for the term. She put students in groups of two, telling us it will be up to us to figure out when to work on them outside of class. She posts our pairing assignments later, so that we can check them on the way out of class.
The teacher has paired me with Mark Andrews. He’s a guy who sits somewhere in the middle of the class. He’s a quiet one, almost unnoticeable, and I like the partnership. This will work out fine, and I can’t wait till we get our topics tomorrow.
As the day passes, I almost find myself looking forward to getting to know someone besides Katelyn and Ariel a little bit better, and I warn my grandparents that I might be coming home later more often because of the group project. I’m hoping Mark will want to dive in soon so that we can get a head-start.
And then I get to class the next day, and rush to find out what we’ll be working on.
It’s a rude shock for me when I get to the board in the afternoon to check for our assigned topic. They’ve changed my partnership
. Mark Andrews is now with another girl in class, and I’m paired Lowell Bartlett.
I can’t believe my eyes. That’s not the only change, either. They’ve now paired Katelyn with Myles. I’ve heard rumors about him talking about Katelyn and how he wants to fuck her, and that seals the deal—the boys clearly had a hand in this. My head becomes light as I keep re-reading the changes. Our research topic no longer seems important; what’s important is who I’ll be working with.
The logical thing to do would be to file a complaint with the teacher, but really, what would I say? I’ve never complained about Lowell in the past, so there’s no history to back up his harassment of me. And anyway, I already know it would be a futile exercise. I go to my seat fuming. My eyes settle on Lowell the moment he steps into the classroom. Without thinking, I rise and make my way up to him, meeting him at his desk as he sits down.
I don’t even try to hide my temper. Instead, I slam my palms onto his table furiously. “Whatever you did to get that pairing, you had better go undo it. There’s no way in a million years I’ll work with you.”
He doesn’t seem to be reacting to my confronting him, but my heart sure is. It’s pounding, and the students around us have frozen. Swallowing, I realize I have to catch my breath after saying only that much—that’s the effect this guy has on me, unreasonably or not.
Lowell has that wicked smile on his face again as I look in his eyes. He says nothing for the next five seconds. He just stares back into my gaze. “You’re making a scene, Aleta darling,” he whispers.
I cringe back. I can’t believe I just heard him call me ‘darling’. And the drawl of my name on his lips…. I shake away the thought.
It makes me hate him more. “I’m not your darling! You go change whatever you did. I’m not working with you.”
“How about you go change that, Aleta?” He’s closed his eyes a little now, like a satisfied cat who just ate a fucking canary. “I’m fine where I am. So, if you have a complaint, take it up with the teacher. Of course, we both know you won’t, so settle down. You’re gonna be my partner, baby.”
My breath catches in my throat. And, suddenly, I know he’s defeated me.
There’s nothing I can do. The look on his face is alone enough to guarantee that I can complain as much as I want to, but if I put up a fuss about working with him, the teachers will only see me as a spoiled brat who wants to complain. And I’ll still be in the same position I’m in now.
I hate Lowell. I hate the fact that I am helpless. I hate the way he calls me sweet names. It all nauseates me, but he knows he has me right where he wants me. And, what’s more...I know it, too.
There’s no way I can avoid Lowell now, either. This is so fucking crazy, I’m furious.
∞∞∞∞∞
By the end of the day, I’ve accepted my situation. I will work with Lowell. There’s no point in complaining or pouting because it is what it is, no matter how miserable I am, no matter how helpless I feel, and no matter how he might degrade me by calling me ‘baby’ or anything else.
I can’t get out of this, and we both know it.
The last few days have been hellish for me. First, I get in a scandal I know nothing about, probably courtesy of Lowell’s wannabe girlfriend. Now, I have to work with the devil himself if I want to pass the term. I can’t even bring myself to imagine it getting any worse than this.
The next morning, I tell him I’ll be ready to work on the project when he is. We have five weeks to prepare for the presentation, so there’s no time to waste.
“Are you eager to be with me?” he asks, a sly look on his face.
My brain and my heart both stop for a second, and then I reply—a little too quickly. “You think too much of yourself.”
When he asked that question, it roused an old topic within me whether I wanted it to or not. Are you eager to be with me? It’s impossible to pretend to myself that I haven’t thought about what Lowell’s arms would feel like wrapped around me. Or thought about his eyes and his wicked grin. I wouldn’t admit it to him or anyone else, but I’m not that good at lying to myself.
The last guy who brought up these feelings was back in New York. He was my classmate and boyfriend. I found every means to avoid him just before I left New York, but we were together long enough that we got to the heavy petting stage and talked about more. He wanted to fuck my brains out from morning till late in the evening, but I held him off. It’s been three months since I’ve seen him, and I haven’t given him a lot of thought, but we had a good thing while it lasted, even if he did put too much pressure on towards the end.
And now there’s Lowell, asking me that. A warm touch from a gorgeous guy sounds nice, truly, but I won’t tell him that.
“You think you’re too good for me?” he presses me.
“I’m only interested in this project. I don’t care what you think or believe about me. If you’re not ready to talk about it, let me know when you are.”
His look gets serious. “Sure, we can start working today. When do you want to meet?”
“I’ll be busy during lunch. So, let’s meet after school?” I suggest. I’m thinking he might be a little easier to deal with if there’s no audience to perform for—nobody to impress with his power. That’s what bullies like, right? So, if I take away his audience, maybe we’ll be able to get this done with minimal headaches.
“That’s a good time,” he says. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
I can cope with working with him for at least one hour at the end of the school day. It’s only for a few days—weeks, at most, though I’m hoping we can work hard and finish faster than that. As soon as this project is over, I can go back to ignoring him.
I pack my stuff up when the last bell rings for the day. I pick up an extra book from my locker in the hall and head to the study hall room, but Lowell’s not there. He said to meet him at his study room…this has to be what he meant right? He considers the whole school his, after all. Then again, I must admit it would be a surprise if I met him on time.
I sit down and read a book while I wait for him, but I become annoyed after a while. I’ve been waiting for over thirty minutes, and there’s still no sign of Lowell. Forty-five minutes go by; he still hasn’t shown up. Now, I’m angry. I understand his arrogance, but not showing up after we make a plan is absolute bullshit. It’s an insult to me. I pack my bag and head outside to call an Uber. Maybe by the time it shows up, I won’t be so steaming mad.
The next morning, I’m about to step into class when Lowell steps in front of me to block my path.
“Why the fuck weren’t you at my study room yesterday? I waited for you for over two hours!” he hisses, before I can even get a word out.
What the hell?
I glare back at him, because there’s no way he’s getting the upper hand when I’m in the right here. “I was there! I was waiting for you!” Then, what he just said strikes me. He couldn’t possibly… “Wait, what? Your study room? I thought you wanted me to meet you at the study hall room! You seriously have your own study room?”
Lowell doesn’t say another word. His lips purse and his eyes squint, and then he barks a laugh in my face like I’m the stupidest, most miserable specimen for a human he’s ever seen. And then he walks away.
I feel stupid, too—extremely stupid. I trudge to my seat and slam my ass into it, fuming mad. Katelyn isn’t around yet, so I can’t talk to her. The five minutes she takes to arrive are the longest I’ve ever had to wait for my friend.
Finally, she comes in. She barely sits down before I question her. “Do people have their own study rooms?”
She glances my way, and then one of her eyebrows quirks up knowingly. From the look on her face, I know the answer. “A few do. There are seven or eight private study rooms off the back area of the library, down a separate hall—parents of juniors and seniors can’t rent them by the semester.”
Defeated, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I want to die right now. “Lowell?” I a
sk.
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” I mumble. I was coping with the idea of working with Lowell. I wasn’t thinking about us being locked into a tiny, private room together.
“The rooms are his dad’s money speaking, to begin with. He sponsored the renovation of the library and general study hall rooms being turned into state-of-the-art spaces. Only on the condition of there being private rooms available for parents who want their kids to have personal space, and that his kid get first pick. He had the money for the project; he dictated the tune. Now, Lowell Bartlett has his own private place to read or do whatever, and some other kids do, too. They’re expensive, but it basically means some of the kids have private offices. I’ve heard rumors they’ve got fridges and TVs.”
“Unbelievable,” I say in a hushed tone. “Yesterday, I waited for him by the general study room for over an hour after school. I looked like a fool this morning.” I stop for a while, and then I quickly realize what this means. “Wait, does that mean I have to join him there to work on this project? I mean, am I even allowed back there? Shouldn’t we work in a more…public space?”
“Shouldn’t you ask Lowell about that?” Katelyn asks, drawing her eyebrows together. “From what I know, he’s never been in that study room. I don’t think he’s going to start using it now.”
I shake my head and look up to the front of the room as the teacher starts talking. It’s only now that I’m really understanding how very wealthy Lowell’s parents have to be. Every child in this school has a rich parent or sponsor, yet he towers above them all. His dad paved the way for private study rooms and put god knows how much money into this place, just so his son can have his own private little office that he doesn’t even use. The very idea of it is kind of offensive.
