Confessions of a Queen B*

by Crista McHugh

  I slid into my desk for first period and fired up my laptop. Somehow, scrambling to finish an assignment at the last minute wasn’t my idea of stress reduction. I started listing things that sounded good at relieving stress. A massage. A walk in the park. A funny movie. All very generic and bland.

  Then I peeked over at Brett’s list, and something inside me shifted gears. His was very personal, very specific.

  Throwing the perfect spiral pass.

  Playing games with my sisters.

  Finding the perfect chocolate chip to frozen yogurt ratio.

  Watching the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in one sitting.

  Getting a new high score on my favorite video game.

  Kissing a pretty girl.

  Making someone smile.

  Spending time with someone who truly gets me.

  I choked up a little as I came to the final item on his list. It reminded me of what he’d said Monday afternoon before leaving my house, that I was one of the few people he could be himself around.

  How many people in Eastline could say they knew the real Brett? The Brett who played with his sisters? The Brett who wasn’t always so sure what the future held? The Brett who wanted to be more than just a football star? The Brett who was closet geek and hacker extraordinaire?

  I reread the last item on his list and realized I felt the same. As much as he left me flustered and frustrated, Brett sometimes understood me better than Morgan and Richard. And if Monday was any indication, I was actually going to miss spending time with him once we wrapped up this project.

  I went back to my list and changed it around, making it as specific as Brett’s. And when I got to the end, I added, Doing something nice for someone else.

  ***

  Brett slid quietly into the seat next to me just as the bell rang for fourth period. “Glad to be done with this?”

  “The doll, yes.”

  An amused glint filled his eyes. “Just the doll?”

  “For now.”

  He looked away. “Listen, about last night—”

  “There’s nothing more to talk about, Brett. You made your case.”

  “But I wasn’t finished.”

  My heart jumped, stopping the air from entering my lungs. Was he going to harp on me more about exposing the voyeur? Or was he going to bring up the kiss?

  Thankfully, the intercom at the front of the class crackled to life and interrupted Mr. DePaul. “Will Alexis Wyndham please report to Principal Lee’s office?”

  My heart skipped another beat, and this time, it had nothing to do with Brett. I’d never been called to the principal’s office. I gathered my things, leaving the doll behind with Brett, and made my way to the door with everyone in the class watching me like I was a criminal on death row on my way to the chair.

  Of course, when they call you to the principal’s office, they don’t bring you in right away. They let you stew outside for a good thirty minutes, watching his secretary answer the phone and type away on her computer, perhaps hoping the anxiety of being there will make you more compliant to his will.

  Or make you less hostile.

  Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect on me. I’d done nothing wrong. By the time the door opened, I was ready to test out my Queen B powers on Principal Lee and see if he responded the way the rest of the students did.

  He wasn’t easily intimidated by my “eat shit and die” glare. Instead, he kept his face unreadable as he pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat, Ms. Wyndham.”

  “Listen, I don’t know why you’ve called me here, but it’s interfering with my academic achievement, and I don’t appreciate you keeping me from the stimulating discussions in health class.” I sat down, crossed my legs, and waited for him to respond to my opening argument.

  He merely narrowed his eyes and seemed to take even longer to return to his chair. “Will you please check your attitude at the door?”

  “I’m here to learn, Mr. Lee, not twiddle my thumbs outside your office.”

  “I could suspend you.”

  “For what? Being a voracious student?” I smiled sweetly, daring him to. I could use a vacation from this place. But just to cover my bases, I reached into my pocket and hit the record button on my phone. If I was going to take the heat for this, I wanted everything documented.

  “No, for this.” He tapped his computer screen that displayed my blog post. “If word gets out about this to the local media—”

  “Are you suggesting I don’t report the truth?”

  “I’m suggesting you keep your stories to subjects that do not slander our school.”

  I pulled out my notepad and started scribbling notes. If he wanted to play hardball, I’d give him something to sweat about. “So you’re saying I should censor my blog?”

  “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “But you are restricting my First Amendment rights to free speech.” I scribbled some more notes. I already knew what next week’s blog post would be about.

  “Put your pen down, Ms. Wyndham, and answer my questions.” His voice darkened. He was playing bad cop, and there wasn’t a good cop in sight to rescue me.

  I set the notepad in my lap. “Ask away, Mr. Lee.”

  “How long have you known about those videos?”

  “They first came to my attention last week. One of the victims was quite traumatized to discover them.”

  “And why didn’t you bring it to my attention then?”

  “Because I wanted to handle it.” I shifted in my seat and re-crossed my legs.

  A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. “No, because you wanted to make me look like an idiot, just like you did my predecessor.”

  “No offense, Mr. Lee, but you do a good job of doing that on your own if you have no idea what’s being posted about your school on YouTube.”

  I was pushing his buttons, and I enjoyed it. It seemed my Queen B powers weren’t limited to just the student body. And based on the way the conversation was heading, I knew what he’d eventually ask. However, I was still trying to decide how much information to give him when the moment came.

  He blotted his forehead with a tissue. “I want you to remove this post.”

  I picked up my notepad again. “And we’re back to censoring the presses.”

  “No, I’m trying to protect the reputation of this school.”

  “Correction—you’re trying to protect your reputation as principal of this school.”

  He pointed a shaking finger at the screen, his face paling with each word. “If there is any truth to your allegations—”

  “And there is.”

  “—I’m going to have to answer to the school board about this.”

  “Probably not a bad idea, especially considering how easy it was for the person to use the school’s network to record and upload videos from the girls’ locker room.” I decided to play up the moment, steering the conversation away from Principal Lee’s wounded pride and toward a solution. “As a female student of Eastline High, I have never felt more violated in all my life, and I wasn’t even one of the women featured in the videos.”

  “So you mentioned in your article. But you managed to leave out some important details.”

  “Such as?”

  “Where are the videos now?”

  “I had someone remove them for the sake of the victims.”

  That seemed to ease Principal Lee’s fear. He leaned back in his chair. “And how did you manage that?”

  “Please, Mr. Lee—this is the land of computer geeks galore. It wasn’t that hard to find someone to do that.”

  “I need a name.” He watched me with glittering eyes, trying to ruffle my feathers with silent intimidation.

  He obviously didn’t know who he was up against. “Would Batman work for you?”

  His expression darkened. “That’s not what I was talking about, Ms. Wyndham.”

  “You just said you needed a name.”

  “This is not like you
. I’ve read your posts in the past, and you’ve always been eager to name names and point fingers. What are you trying to hide?”

  “This is different.”

  “No, this is a major issue I’m going to have to answer for, and I’m not letting you leave until you give me the information I need to resolve it. Who helped you track down the person behind the videos?”

  I gulped. Brett would be in some serious trouble if I named him. Suspension would surely ruin his chances for a scholarship, not to mention his reputation if people learned what a geek he really was. “I’m not going to reveal my sources.”

  “Then tell me who’s behind the videos.”

  I remembered Brett’s warning about pushing Adam past the tipping point. “If I tell you, will you promise to handle the matter discreetly?”

  “Ms. Wyndham, you destroyed any hope for discretion when you published that article.”

  “Actually, no, I didn’t. I exposed a problem, and I discovered the person behind it. He’s a minor, though, and under the law, he’s allowed certain protections, which is why I didn’t reveal his name. Not to mention, there’s a high probability things could get worse if people found out he was behind the videos.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” He nodded to the screen. “If you refuse to give me a name, then I’ll have to assume you’re an accomplice to the matter and punish you accordingly.”

  “And I go to the media and let them know about the cover-up at Eastline.”

  “If anyone’s covering anything up, it’s you.”

  “I’m willing to give you his name, but only if you promise not to draw any unnecessary attention to him.”

  Principal Lee’s brows moved in opposite directions—one up and one down. “I’m having a hard time figuring out your motives.”

  “Well, if you’d just asked nicely, I would have explained them to you.”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?” He crossed his arms. “Explain them, then.”

  “The reason I tried to handle this myself is because my sister was one of the victims, and I wanted to spare her any further embarrassment. I’d thought I had taken care of it last week, but it became clear earlier this week that the person behind the videos couldn’t take a hint. So, I launched my investigation, and thanks to the wonder of IP addresses, my accomplice was able to track him down.”

  Principal Lee nodded. “Go on.”

  “But when my accomplice realized who the person was, he was only willing to give me a name after I promised to handle the matter delicately. So now, I’m asking the same of you.”

  “You’re going to talk in circles until I agree, aren’t you?”

  “You’re the one who wants a name, and I want to prevent any more drama in the hallways.”

  He swiveled back and forth in his chair, his arms still crossed, and stared at the headline I’d created about our X-rated Peeping Tom. “Ms. Wyndham, what are you planning on doing with your life?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.” I remembered what Brett had said about me being a ball-buster and caught myself grinning. “Maybe I’ll become Attorney General one day.”

  “Well, if you’re serious about the legal field, you need to be prepared to name sources if you wish to be credible.”

  The tension eased from my shoulders. I’d worn him down, even though he wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. “I understand that.”

  “If I agree to handle the student behind this appropriately, will you give me his name?”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. “Adam Kozlovsky.”

  He jumped as though I’d zapped him with a Taser. I had no idea what was in those confidential files Brett had stumbled upon, but it was quite clear Principal Lee did. And based on the way the color seemed to drain from the principal’s face, it wasn’t pretty. “Thank you, Ms. Wyndham. I’ll speak to him about this matter right away.”

  I pointed to my blog on his screen. “And no censoring of the press?”

  He shook his head. “But I ask you not to speak to the news media about this if word gets out. Let me handle it.”

  “Of course.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stopped the recording. “It was a pleasure talking with you, Principal Lee, but I need to go back to my academic studies now.” And back to my last day working with Brett.

  The bell rang, indicating the end of fourth period, and I fought back the sigh of resignation. My class project time with Brett was now officially over. It was time to resume my role as the Queen B.

  I just hoped he’d notice what I’d done.

  Chapter 19

  “Raise your hand if you’re a female student who’s ever gotten the heebie-jeebies in Mr. Rodchenko’s class from the way he’s always staring your chest. Eyes up here, please.”

  The Eastline Spy

  January, Freshman Year

  Brett was leaning on the wall outside the office when I finally re-emerged, his attention focused on the screen of his tablet.

  It was lunch, and students funneled through the hallways toward their favorite dining location. They huddled in groups, some of them with tablets or phones in their hands, their shocked whispers buzzing like a swarm of flies. What shocked me, though, was the fact Brett was without his usual entourage. No Summer draping all over him. No teammates laughing and high-fiving. Just him, standing alone.

  I approached him. “Looking for me?”

  He raised his eyes from the screen and turned it off. “Yeah, actually, I was. Can we go someplace private to talk?

  I was exhausted, and I knew if I took him back to my place, I wouldn’t be able to say no to my hormones if he tried to kiss me again. And if he was willing to be seen waiting outside the principal’s office for me, maybe I would be willing to be seen in public with him. “We can do a lap around the football field, if you want.”

  “You do realize that people will see us—together—outside of class?”

  “Yeah, I think I can risk it this one time.”

  Something faded from his eyes. He actually looked disappointed when I didn’t suggest we go back to my house. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. “Sure.”

  We crossed the campus to the stadium. Groups of students hung out on the bleachers, enjoying the mid-September sunshine while they could. Brett and I drew their attention as we approached, but no one bothered us. I expected to feel awkward or paranoid from all the eyes on us, but walking with Brett felt comfortable, natural.

  Right, like we belonged together.

  Yeah, I’d fallen for him.

  Hard.

  But I was still too proud to admit it. Just call me Mr. Darcy.

  We were halfway around the field before I finally asked, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  “You didn’t name him,” he said quietly, staring at the ground.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  I gave him a wry smile. “Maybe I decided to give this compassion thing a try, see if it makes me happier.”

  He looked up, mirroring my expression. “I’m glad you did.”

  “I can’t go making a habit of it, though. I mean, if word gets out that I was actually, you know, nice, no one would respect me anymore.”

  “Heaven forbid,” he teased.

  “Besides, I only did it out of self-preservation. I didn’t want that kid going postal on us or doing anything drastic.”

  “What you’re trying to say is that you did the right thing to protect him.”

  “And believe me, it was harder than I thought it would be, especially with Principal Lee threatening me with suspension for my article.”

  A line formed between Brett’s brows. “Was that why he wanted to see you?”

  “Yeah, he wanted names.”

  He drew to a stop, the corners of his mouth tilting down. “And what did you tell him?”

  “Don’t worry, Superman, this Lois Lane didn’t reveal your secret identity. I made him promise to treat Adam with care and not blow things out of
proportion. As soon as I gave him the name, he seemed to understand where I was coming from.”

  Brett nodded once, swallowing hard in the process and making me wonder again what he’d accidentally read. He resumed walking. “So you did this purely to save yourself?”

  I rocked back and forth on my feet, creating an opportunity to bump into him. “Well, maybe I did it as a favor to you, too.”

  “You did a favor for me?”

  “You asked me so nicely last night.”

  He chuckled and went back to looking at the ground, his thumbs running up and down the straps of his backpack. “You know, I wasn’t asked to switch names with you. I’m the one who asked to switch.”

  I ambled along a few steps, trying to swallow past the jumble of emotions that suddenly clogged my throat. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to get to know you better. And I’m glad I did. You’re actually kind of cool.”

  “You’re just now realizing that?”

  My quip helped break some of the tension, and we stopped at the far corner of the field near the scoreboard. It offered us some protection from prying eyes, which I welcomed.

  Brett turned to face me. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  I set my messenger bag down on the grass. Something told me we were going to be here for a while. “I never make anything easy for anybody.”

  “No shit.” He kicked at the ground. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but there’s a definite chemistry between us.”

  My stomach knotted. “You mean what happened in the janitor’s closet?”

  “And my bedroom.”

  “And I bet you were hoping we could continue to hook up?”

  “Yes—I mean, no—” He slung his backpack on the ground again and moved toward me.

  My head swam, and warning bells went off. I backed away before he kissed me in front of everyone in the school. It was one thing to suffer temporary insanity behind closed doors. It was an entirely different thing to lose it on campus where other students could see us, even if the scoreboard was partially concealing us. “Stop, Brett, please.”

  My voice sounded high, strained, panicked.

  But it had the desired effect. He froze right where he was. Then his face hardened. “Damn it, Lexi, what is your problem?”