by Keilan Shea
“I was the quiet, shy kid who avoided everything. Very uncool.”
I scrunch my eyebrows. “I don’t believe that for a second. You are beautiful.”
Her gaze shifts downward, the first unsure action I’ve seen from her. When she walked in here, she stood so straight and confident. Harvey squeezes her hand as if to reassure her. She squeezes back and says, “Thank you. When I was young, I wore hand-me-down clothes that were much too large for me. They were often stained and ripped, too. I didn’t have a lot of money growing up. I almost flunked out of high school after floundering for so many years, but a school counselor took an interest in me. She changed my life. When I graduated, by the skin of my teeth, I had her to thank. That was when I decided I wanted to do that too: change someone’s life.
“While I love my profession, it turns out you don’t need to be anyone in particular to change a life. Every day you cross paths with someone, you have the potential to influence them. I never would have tried basketball or realized how fun it can be if it wasn’t for Harvey. I never would have known it’s possible to love someone this much either.”
Harvey clears his throat. It’s hard to see through his darker complexion, but I swear he’s blushing.
“Okay,” I say. “You’re one-thousand-percent adorable. You have my blessing. Harvey can marry you.”
Jane’s elegant eyelashes flutter. I’d say she’s being coy, but after talking to and observing her, it’s timidness. She wants Harvey to ask her to marry him so badly.
Harvey gives me this pained look because I put him on the spot. Sorry, Harv. There’s no time for rings in wine glasses.
“Jane, I …” Harvey groans. “Teagan shouldn’t have said that.”
No! Don’t blow it, Harvey! I make frantic gestures with my hands, but what I want to do is yell at him. He told me Jane is the one for him.
“That’s all right.” The way Jane’s voice quiets means it’s anything but all right.
I slam my hands down on the table. Jane startles, but I don’t apologize. I’m doing this for her and Harvey. “You already know, Harv. You have no doubts about her and she has none about you, so what’s holding you back? It better not be me and what you think I can and can’t handle. I want you to marry her. If you wait too long, you could lose her. Forever.”
That’s when my perfect speech falls apart. Water droplets hit my hands and I look up to see if it’s raining. It isn’t. Tears streak my cheeks and fall off my chin. I grab a napkin to dry up that salty water fast, pretending it never happened.
“Sorry,” I add. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Jane. Harvey adores you.”
Jane tentatively places her hand on top of mine. “I know he does.”
Rex trots over and rests his head on top of my other hand.
“Harvey,” Jane says, “I do agree with Teagan, though. I didn’t prepare for this, but I’m going to ask you right now.” She takes a big breath. “Will you marry me?”
Harvey chokes, sputters, but he nods. When he can speak again, he says, “Yeah. Of course. Yes. God, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
“Why not?” Jane asks gently.
“It’s so casual, so fast, when you should have known Teagan for months before I proposed to you. When it should mean so much …”
“It does. It means everything. You said yes.” Jane wipes her own watery eyes and blinks, willing tears not to fall and ruin her mascara and eyeliner. “I know things have been hard for you both, but I … I wanted to meet you so much sooner, Teagan.”
Harvey shudders a breath and presses his fingers to his squeezed-closed eyes. “Saul should be here. Eliza and Corey too.”
Jane rises to stand behind Harvey’s seat. She drapes her arms around him in a delicate hug. Harvey grasps her left arm and holds fast, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. Jane reaches out her right arm to me, inviting. I go to her. We’re as good as strangers, or we should be, but it feels right to hug her and cry with her. Rex joins us too, pressing against my leg.
It hurts now, as though my already-broken heart is shattering, but I tell myself they’ll work it out. They’ll be okay without me. Better. If it wasn’t for me, Harvey wouldn’t be sobbing, because Dad, Mom, and Corey would be here.
This is all my fault.
CHAPTER 24
I oversleep this morning. A guilty conscience kept me up all night; the lucid daydreams are nothing compared to the visceral nightmares of reliving the crash. My phone alarm fails to wake me, and Harvey never arrives to take its place. Yesterday wore him out, so I let him sleep. Missing one day at the gym won’t kill him. I see to Rex, prepare for school, write Harvey a note on actual paper, and then tiptoe out of the house.
It’s chilly outside. The temperature will rise with the sun, but Dad’s jacket is all the warmth I need. I pull it out from under the passenger seat and snuggle up—even though it’s soaked in the cold all night. After ensuring that Corey’s slingshot is safely stored inside one of its pockets, and that Mom’s locket is around my neck, I place my hands on the cool steering wheel.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Traffic has me on edge. I don’t have to leave as early as I have been, but it means fewer cars on the road. Today requires extra caution. I double-check before every lane change and cede the right-of-way at every stop. A few cars honk at me, but as long as I’m being safe, I don’t give a damn. They’d thank me if they realized what I’m capable of.
After the agonizing commute is over, and I’m in Raindrop High’s parking lot, the first bell rings. If I run, I won’t be late for AP Calculus. I almost forget to fold Dad’s jacket and place it under the passenger seat as I stumble out of my Prius. I sling my backpack over my shoulder, ready to burst inside. Then I groan when I see Larry and George at the front doors. Right. We’re on semi-lockdown.
I prepare my student ID and flash it at the police officers. George nods. Larry says, “Better hurry.” I remind my legs we aren’t allowed to run inside the school, but I walk at the pace of a slow jog. The nearly empty halls make navigation simple. Two seconds away from my first class, my fingers hover above the door handle as the PA system comes to life with a soft crackle. “Blake Earnshaw and Teagan Hackett, you’re needed in the principal’s office.”
My hand continues to hover as I repeat the message under my breath and try to absorb it. But all I can think is one simple word: why?
The door smacks into me, and I stumble backward while rubbing my side. Damn you, Blake Earnshaw. I expect him to say something after he closes the door, but his eyes drift over me as if I’m not here, and he slinks down the hall.
“Wait,” I say and follow. He doesn’t wait, so I grab his shoulder. “What did you do?”
He glances at me and brushes at my fingers as if I’m nothing but an annoying fly. I screw in my nails, hoping it hurts and wrinkles his dress shirt. His dark-purple bruise is visible. It’s a strange combination, but it’s worse with the goddamn tie he’s wearing today. His hair is combed to the side, without a strand out of place. This tidy image … this is the Blake Earnshaw presented by the media. Right. Only the darkness in his forest eyes is familiar, a sign that he’s still that rich prick.
“You fucked up yesterday,” he says. “The drapes were open.”
“What are—”
Ms. Layton pokes her head out of the classroom and shouts at us, “Principal’s office, now!”
I scurry ahead. It’s all I can do to keep myself from screaming. What the hell does he mean I fucked up yesterday? The drapes were open? I didn’t think my stomach could drop any lower, but Earnshaw keeps on my heels.
Once we’re inside Principal Yancey’s office, she says, “Close the door and take a seat.”
“What’s up?” I ask, going for casual. But my hands tremble. I clutch the plush seat’s armrests to hide it.
Principal Yancey spreads her pudgy fingers across the polished marble surface of her desk. Then she leans back and adjusts her round g
lasses. She takes them off and starts cleaning them with the microfiber cloth she stores in the front pockets of her pastel suits.
That restrained scream tears at my throat. Why won’t she talk? Is she stalling?
Earnshaw leans back in his seat and lazily crosses an ankle over a knee. I’d say he doesn’t have a care in the world, but that darkness in his eyes has spread. If I hadn’t seen the rich-prick side of him, I wouldn’t realize it, because this look makes panties wet. The intensity is suffocating, all alpha male and sexy, but somehow charming when he’s quiet and reserved and dressed like a prince.
Principal Yancey licks her lips and then purses them as she replaces her glasses. “I am going to contact your guardians. I overheard troubling whispers among the students socializing before the first bell rang. When I pulled one aside to ask a question, I glimpsed an image on her phone. Of you two. I know you’re aware of the videos that have been circulating, but these are …” Principal Yancey sighs. “What is happening? We’re on our fourth day of school and now this?”
My knuckles ache. “Just say it.”
“Someone took pictures of us yesterday,” Earnshaw clarifies.
Principal Yancey chokes on her next inhale. “Yes. What were you thinking? Everything was calming down after your apology, Blake, and then you … You’re both seventeen, so all I can ask is, was it consensual?”
“Yes,” Earnshaw says.
“We didn’t have sex,” I blurt, because my mind is reeling. This negates everything Blake said in that video. In fact, it makes everything ten times worse because of what he said in that video.
The culprit must be Blake Earnshaw himself. He’s still fighting for that something he wants, dragging his name in the dirt to get it. I’m going to strangle him. With my eyes. My fingers won’t release these armrests. “How could you do that?”
“Do what?”
I grind my teeth. “Take those pictures.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re a liar. I saw the fucking surveillance room. You installed cameras all over my house.”
“Enough!” Principal Yancey trills. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her raise her voice before.
“Someone called GlitterKitten started sending me threatening PMs concerning Teagan soon after I arrived at school this morning,” Earnshaw continues. “GlitterKitten is the photographer, too. She sent me pictures she didn’t post. I’ve saved the messages and am prepared to email them and whatever other information might be useful to you, Principal Yancey. The Twitter account she used to contact me with is frozen now, but she seems to have just created another to post those pictures again.”
He gives me the side-eye. “Those surveillance cameras don’t point inside, and they might get GlitterKitten caught. I called my bodyguards when I discovered this mess. They’ll delve into all the recordings made during that time and give all pertinent information to the police.”
“Some bodyguards,” I say. “Shouldn’t they have caught this GlitterKitten before these pictures were taken?”
“That will be helpful, Blake,” Principal Yancey says and scribbles her email on a piece of paper.
“You should speak with Eve, too,” Earnshaw says. “She’s talked to GlitterKitten before.”
“Yes, I will. Send me the messages and accounts.” Principal Yancey slides the paper to Earnshaw, who whips out his phone and starts tapping on the screen. “I’ll figure out a better solution with the police department’s assistance, but in the meantime, I can’t have either of you alone. Ever. These pictures have … severe comments, so I can only imagine what Blake is sending me.”
“How is that going to work?” I ask. God, my head is pounding and I’m seeing double.
“You will be escorted to and from school, to begin with. You are prohibited from exiting this building until your designated chaperons, typically your guardians, arrive to check you out. Teagan, that means Coach Brown will take you to Gym C after school. Tomorrow, your chaperons will be required to check you in as well. Is that understood? This is effective immediately. While I have no power over either of you outside of school, I will tell your guardians to maintain this level of supervision at all times. This goes triple for you, Teagan.”
I hang my pounding head and try to convince my fingers to let go so that they can relieve this headache by stimulating a pressure point. “Why?”
“Because you’re the one drawing fire.”
Of course I am. The entire female population hates my guts because Blake Earnshaw kissed me, saved my life, and now he’s almost had sex with me. The fairy-tale romance is dead, and they’ve named me the villain—because they’re crazy. How could some ugly nobody girl seduce Blake Earnshaw? But that mark on his cheek doesn’t help my case. Oh my God. Maybe from the outside I really do look like some psycho bitch who’s abusing him and taking advantage of him.
“You may return to class,” Principal Yancey says. “You’re safe here, so try not to worry.”
“Unless some of these angry freaks attend Raindrop High,” I argue.
“GlitterKitten doesn’t,” Earnshaw answers. “She wasn’t a source for any of the videos. She’s dedicated and would have been if given the opportunity.”
Principal Yancey frowns. “I can excuse you from school for the day if your uncle can retrieve you.”
No. He’ll freak out, and I can’t ask him to miss work. I’m safe enough. This is Raindrop High. Even if people despise me, this is the most peaceful place on Earth. It’s just talk. Except for the major invasion of privacy.
This is all so ridiculous. I should have never kissed Blake Earnshaw.
“I’ll go to class,” I say.
Standing is what finally unlocks my fingers. My movements are stilted, rigid, as I autopilot my way back to AP Calculus. I’m taken by surprise when I cross paths with another student in the hall, none other than William March. He’s carrying a stack of papers, so a teacher must have sent him on an errand. His lips curve up when he sees me. “Always knew you were a whore.”
“Takes one to know one,” I retort.
William’s about to stop and say something else, but Earnshaw thrusts his shoulder into the linebacker’s chest. The papers explode and flutter to the ground like shot-down butterflies. “Fuck off.”
Earnshaw wraps his arm around my waist and urges me forward until he makes a sharp turn into another hall. I swing at him. I’m aiming for his bruise, but he dodges, twists me around, and binds me to his firm chest. I hate that I haven’t figured out how to avoid this yet.
“My bodyguards will drive you to your uncle’s place after school.”
“Like hell. They have you to look after, and Harvey would never agree to that, not after what you’ve done.” I wince when Earnshaw tightens his grip and pushes me against some lockers. Of course, we’re in a hall without cameras. Maybe school isn’t so safe. He turns me around so that I’m facing him and then traps me again. My treasonous thighs squeeze together, anticipating something.
“Things are getting out of hand,” Earnshaw hisses; his breath is hot on my face.
“You say that as if you didn’t plan this.”
“I didn’t. That video, in part, was meant to absolve you of all blame. This was never supposed to be about you.”
I laugh, nearly hysterical as I struggle and burn, but Earnshaw holds fast. “Let me go.”
“I’ll let you go if you’ll listen to me.”
“Then I’ll scream.”
“Teagan.”
He never calls me Teagan, not when he’s talking to me. It gives me pause. Slowly, Earnshaw releases me.
“What?” I say weakly.
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Softly, he curses. “Give me your phone number. I’ll meet you after school.”
“I have cheer practice.”
“I’ll wait.”
“I’m telling you Harvey won’t okay this.” My phone vibrates that exact moment, signaling the arrival of a text from Harvey. “He says he’s going to
pick me up.” And he wants me to call him when I get a chance.
“Someone needs to drive your car.”
“Really, Earnshaw? I’m not going to get jumped in the five seconds it takes me to split up from Harv and crawl into my car. I’ll lock up as soon as I’m inside.” I scowl and say derisively, “Are you worried about me?”
“Yes.” He holds out his phone. “May I have your number?”
I gape at him, but he’s not backing down. At least he’s asking this time. “Are you trying to make things worse? Chloe might have forgiven you before, but she’d be stupid to now. Unless you’re going to lie about me and make me out to be the bad bitch everyone thinks I am, you’re fucked. So, fine, I believe you didn’t post those pictures because I don’t see how this play benefits you. Did you make that video because you won that fight with your father or did you lose? It has to be one or the other.”
“Don’t force me to get your number the hard way,” he says.
“What’s the hard way?”
Earnshaw lightly shakes his phone. It’s identical to the smartphone he smashed in the parking lot; it’s the latest and greatest Android.
“Even if you do get my number the ‘hard way,’ that doesn’t mean I can’t block you.”
“You’re still fighting me, but I remember calling a ceasefire.”
“Is that supposed to make me trust you? Hell, whatever. I know you’ll get it if you want it bad enough.” I’m going to regret this, but I give him my phone and I take his to exchange numbers with the enemy.
Earnshaw doesn’t pull anything else. He returns my phone and I return his. He cracks his neck as if a weight’s been lifted and hooks his fingers on the pockets of his black dress pants. He starts walking, but I stay put and stare at his strong back. He looks over his shoulder. Forest eyes lock onto me, lusterless like a moonless, starless night. “You coming?”
That’s when I find myself walking side by side with Blake Earnshaw in a ceasefire silence.
CHAPTER 25
Classes are tolerable because my teachers have all prepared lectures and are extra strict about any whispering or talking out of turn. They can’t do much about the staring, though, or the gossip between periods. Come lunch break, it’s open season.
