Wicked Scandal (Misfits #2)

Chapter 3

WILDER

Pushing my feet on the floor in my bedroom, I propel my desk chair backward. My head falls back, the cool leather of the cushion feeling nice against my skin. I shouldn’t have even asked Mrs. Jenkins for help. Of course it’s a conflict of interest, and of course she’d say no.

The thing is, I’m not confident enough to do this on my own. I know this probably comes as a shock to people, but there are very few things I am confident in. Even posting on social media is hard for me. I tend to focus too much on how people might react instead of just releasing the content and letting them decide.

I want more than anything to prove to my dad that I can handle the tasks he throws at me—at CB and for his campaign. I don’t wanna let him down, but this is hard. It’s heavy shit knowing what I put in this document will be read by every voting resident of Willow Creek.

I suppose there are other teachers who could help me. I was just hoping she’d be the one. I think a lot about the time we spent working on that essay. How we got closer, became friends, even. Up until that last night when her husband showed up and acted like a fucking psycho. She was embarrassed, naturally so, and I’ve been just another face in her class ever since.

Moving back toward my desk, I open my search engine on my desktop and type in our school’s web address.

After scrolling through the staff directory, I decide to email Mr. Chen, my old government teacher. He and I got along well and he was always good at looking at both sides of history, not just one. I liked that. It made me feel like I had to actually learn something in order to decide which side I agreed with instead of being fed bias.

I get stuck on what to put as the subject but finally decide on something I think will get his attention. If I want to be taken seriously, I need to come across as such.

To: Mr. Chen

Subject: Request to Discuss an Important Matter

Hello Mr. Chen,

I am not sure you remember me from our class last semester but I was inspired by your teaching methods and would like to discuss something with you if you have the time.

Recently my father announced he would be running for mayor. This came as a shock to me, however, not as much of a shock as when he requested my assistance with his campaign. In short, he would like me to be his speech writer as well as assist in writing news articles.

Having been inspired by you to really look into politics and form my own opinions, I thought maybe you could help me. If you’re interested I would love to meet with you. I know this would take place over the summer and I would be willing to take any sort of help even if it was via email.

Thank you for your consideration.

Respectfully,

Wilder Cromwell

I ponder for a minute, rereading it a few times, all the while reviving my suspicion that my words are not eloquent.

After staring at the screen for fifteen minutes and running the email through an editing software to make sure I didn’t make any dumb mistakes, I hit send and roll my chair backward.

I can’t help the disappointment that sits in my gut as I stare at the unopened email from Jillian. For some reason I was dead set on Mrs. Jenkins helping me and now that the plan has changed, I feel less motivated.

Fuck it. I’ll just try to attempt this shit on my own.

I move forward in my seat and open the email to read the cliff notes for the article.

Should be easy enough. Mention his background as a member of the city council, the history of Cromwell Banks, a few words from him that Jillian added, his upcoming appearance on Channel 6 News next week, and the election date.

I’ve got this.

I start with the headline: Grant Cromwell Declares Candidacy in Willow Creek’s Mayoral Election.

That’s good. I’m pretty proud of myself for coming up with that all on my own.

Then…I fucking freeze.

My fingers hover over the keys, but I can’t seem to get out a single goddamn word.

Why is this so hard for me? It’s a news article for my dad. It’s not like I’m the one running for office. It’s not like I have anything to lose.

Five minutes later, I’ve got one sentence when a response from Mr. Chen pops up at the bottom of my screen.

My eyes skim through it quickly, picking out the words “I’m sorry” and “upcoming wedding.”

I completely forgot Mr. Chen is getting married this summer to the middle school art teacher. I can’t fault him for shooting down my request. He’s got a lot going on.

I slump in my seat in defeat as I rub a hand over my face. That’s two rejections for help today and I’m getting nervous. Maybe I should just tell my dad I’m not equipped for this. I don’t even think it’s the work, but the fear of letting him down by submitting something that isn’t up to par for this type of position. I’m not a professional and I know zilch about what a mayor even does.

Taking a break for a minute, in hopes the creative juices start flowing, I open my SnapTok account, noticing about a hundred new notifications. One in particular stands out. I tap the message and read, an instant smile gracing my face.

CatEyes: Your last video had me rolling LOL. It might tell my age, but I used to be a huge Bon Jovi fan.

Interesting. So, she’s older than me. I’m not sure why, but I’m even more intrigued now.

The video was a good one, though. Me rolling down the street on a skateboard in a 90s outfit while mouthing the words to “Always”.

I shoot her a quick message back.

WildMisfit: I’m glad I could make you smile. What else makes you smile?

Her response is immediate, which surprises me because she usually takes a few hours to read my messages.

CatEyes: Books. I love to read. It’s a nice escape.

WildMisfit: What books do you like?

CatEyes: Mostly historical romance, but I’ll read just about anything as long as there is a happy ending. How about you? What makes you smile?

WildMisfit: Everything. I’m a simple guy who enjoys the simple things in life.

CatEyes: I love that. But I also call bullshit.

I laugh out loud at her message. What’s funny is that she isn’t wrong.

WildMisfit: You just might be right. Can’t say I’m smiling much right now. I’m starting a new project for my dad and I’m second-guessing myself. I’ll probably just throw in the towel and tell him I can’t do it.

CatEyes: Don’t give up so fast. You never know if you don’t try. I believe in you.

Even if she is just a stranger, knowing she believes in me gives me hope.

WildMisfit: I better get back to it. Thanks for the boost of confidence. It means a lot.

CatEyes: Always.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve got a mess of a draft, but I think I have a plan.

My phone buzzes on my desk. Quickly I close my laptop and snatch my phone to read a text message from my brother.

Rome: Heading to Big John’s for pizza. Meet us there.

I don’t even type a response, I just get up and grab my car keys to head out because I’m starving.

When I get to Big John’s, I immediately spot my crew crowded around a large corner booth—Rome, Elodie, Aiden, Luke, and his fuck buddy Olivia.

The waitress, Sam, who’s a senior at Willow Creek, walks toward them, balancing two large pizzas, one in each hand. Before she can even set them down, hands start flying toward them, grabbing slices.

As I approach, Sam spins around, bumping right into me. When she looks up, the shock on her face quickly fades and a smile spreads. “I’m so sorry, Wilder. I didn't see you there.” She runs her hand down my side, giving my bicep a gentle squeeze.

I step around her and slide into the booth. “No worries.”

Recently, a rumor has made rounds that Sam has a thing for me. She’s hung out with our group a few times, but she’s fucked pretty much every upperclassman at Willow Creek. I try to be friendly with her, but I don’t reciprocate any touches because I don’t want to lead her on. The truth is, I’m not interested, but I don’t want to be that guy that hurts a girl's feelings by being a jerk. Unlike my brother and his friends.

Sam lingers quietly for a second, her hands clasped in front of her, and she sways back and forth with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Diet cola,” I tell her with a pressed smile as I shift my attention to the pizza.

“Just in time,” I sing as I grab a grease-filled piece, topped with only pepperoni and cheese. Folding it in half, I bite off the triangular end and turn my head slowly to see Sam still standing there.

“How’s it taste?” she asks. It’s sort of cringy the way she’s watching me like she wants to take a bite out of me.

With a full mouth, I say, “Really damn good.”

“Bet it would be better if he had his cola to wash it down with,” Rome blurts out. “Just saying.”

“Dude,” I huff at him with a snarl while Elodie swats his shoulder.

“Be nice,” Elodie scoffs. Fortunately, there’s one other person at this table with a sense of decency.

I’m not into Sam, but I’m not an asshole like Rome and Luke. Neither of them has a filter and nine times out of ten, I wanna slap the fuck out of them when they speak to anyone who’s not part of our group.

“Actually,” Sam says, her tone proving she doesn’t give a shit about Rome’s jab at her, “I was sort of hoping to ask you something.”

Her eyes are on me and I can feel my cheeks flush with heat because whatever she’s about to ask me, I’d rather her not do right here in front of my asshole friends. No matter what her question is, Rome and Luke will find a way to make a joke out of it and I really don’t wanna embarrass her.

Dropping my pizza down on an empty paper plate, I slide out of the booth and get to my feet. I brush my hands together, wiping away the flour from the crust. With a nod of my head, I gesture for Sam to follow me, away from them.

As I’m weaving through the tables toward the back wall, I stop walking when I spot Mrs. Jenkins. She’s still wearing the same turtleneck dress she had on in class. I find it odd that she’s been dressing so modest lately. It’s damn near summer and she’s wearing a turtleneck with long sleeves and leggings.

Seated at a high-top round table, her husband sits across from her.He’s eating a sub while she pokes at a salad. There’s something off with her—a sadness I’ve seen a few times before. Those times I chalked it up to stress, or just a typical bad day. We all have them. But this doesn’t feel the same.

Her eyes are downcast as she continues to poke at her salad, yet she doesn’t take a bite. Her other arm holds tightly to her stomach and it has me wondering if she’s pregnant and maybe the salad is making her nauseous.

That doesn't explain the anguish in her eyes, though. She doesn't even lift her head to look at Mayor Jenkins while he sits straight with his shoulders drawn back as his eyes roam the restaurant. I bet he’s searching for people to try and sway. Anyone who will listen to him talk himself up. He’s such a fucking douchebag.

“Wilder,” Sam says sharply.

My eyes snap to hers. “What?”

She chuckles. “Are we going to talk right here in the middle of the restaurant?”

“Sorry. I got distracted.” I keep walking to the back of the restaurant, and once we’re away from the crowded area, I press my back to the wall. “What’s up?”

She rolls her lips together, grinning from ear to ear. “Will you…go to prom with me?”

My eyebrows shoot to my forehead. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That was blunt. Nothing like laying it right out there.

I draw my fingers around my mouth, trying to think of a quick response that won’t have her running away in tears. “Prom, huh?”

“I know it’s short notice with prom being in just a couple weeks, and I know you don’t have a date.” She puts her hand on my forearm, her tone shifting to a more tender tone. “Not because you couldn’t get one, but I heard you didn’t want one this year and…well, I thought maybe I could change your mind.”

She’s right. I don’t have a date, and it’s because I don’t want one. I’m not into any girls at our school and it doesn’t feel right to go with one just because of the pressure to have a date for these things. I’d rather go with a group of friends who I actually want to hang out with.

“Damn, Sam,” I grumble. “I really wasn’t expecting this. And I’m sorry, but…”

Her hand drops, disappointment painting her features. “I get it. No need to apologize.” I watch as she walks away with her chin held high and a smile on her face that says she isn’t fazed. I hope she truly feels that way inside. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, or any girl for that matter.

I must say, I have a lot of respect for Sam for even asking me. She’s the only girl who has. I’m not sure why, but for some reason the girls at Willow Creek High have always looked at Rome and I like we’re unattainable. It’s comical how they behave as if being chosen by one of us is the equivalent of winning a gold medal that makes them special.

I don’t get it. I’m just me. It's no secret I don’t date. Like ever. I’ve never had an official girlfriend. I hang out with girls just because they are in our group or I think of them as a friend. I may have fucked a few, but I’ve never expressed interest in anything more than a one-night and I made sure the girls were okay with that before doing anything.

High school girls lack depth and substance most of the time. Half of them flaunt themselves with their insecurities on full display, while others are dramatic and come off as easy and immature. I don’t dig that and I have no interest in playing their games.

I want someone mature. Someone who challenges me to be the best version of myself. I want a girl that forces me to prove I’m worthy of her time and attention.

I sweep the restaurant, noticing everyone at my table has their heads turned, waiting to hear the gossip. What did Sam ask him? Why is he still standing there? Did he reject her?

I look away, my eyes landing on Mrs. Jenkins, who’s now sitting alone. Her head is still down and it doesn’t look like she’s eaten a single bite of her salad. Both arms are now wrapped tightly around her waist. Shit. I hope she’s okay.

Suddenly, she lifts her head, turning it slightly to meet my gaze. Her eyes glisten in the corners as if she's on the verge of tears and I’m not sure why, but my instincts tell me to go check on her.

Moving around the tables, I keep my eyes on her. She straightens her back, her shoulders tensing. “Hey, Mrs. Jenkins,” I say with a subtle wave. “Everything okay?”

Her thumb sweeps under her eye and she smiles back at me, but I can tell it’s fake. Something is definitely wrong.

Averting her gaze, she picks up her fork and continues to poke her salad. “Hi, Wilder. Everything is great. How are you?”

“Doing well. Just having a bite to eat before I go home and try to work on this article.”

“About that,” she begins, setting her fork down again. Why the hell won’t she eat? It’s so odd. “I’m sorry, again, Wilder. I really wish I could help you.”

“We can talk about that later,” I tell her with a tip of my head toward her food. “Is everything okay with your salad? I’m friends with the waitress, I can ask her to get you another.”

There’s that fake smile again. “No, no. The salad is great.”

“You sure? Because it doesn’t look like you’ve taken a single bite.”

She crinkles her nose as she rubs her stomach. “I’m not feeling great today. Probably a bug of sort. Germs spread quickly in schools.”

“Right,” I drag the word, not buying her excuse. Ever since that day her husband burst into her classroom acting like an animal, I’ve had my suspicions that her life isn’t as pleasant as she wants everyone to believe it is.

Now that I think about it, I’ve never even seen Mrs. Jenkins engage with other teachers. I haven’t seen her out with friends. She’s only ever with her husband. Of all her years in Willow Creek, you’d think she’d socialize more, especially given her husband’s pull in this town. “Look,” I continue, “I know I’m just your student, but if you ever need someone to talk to I’m available. I’m actually a pretty good listener.”

She smiles. “That’s really sweet, Wilder. Thank you.”

The sound of a gruff throat clearing comes from behind me just before I see Mayor Jenkins round my left side. “Can we help you, young man?” he asks as he eyes his wife with a seriousness that’s unsettling.

But I watch her, too. I watch her eyes downcast again, her posture slumping as if she’s about to be scolded.

She speaks but doesn’t lift her head. “Wilder was just asking about the assignment I gave out in class.”

She’s lying. Why the hell is she lying about something so miniscule to her own husband? She could have just told him I came over to make sure she was okay, or to say hi.

“Did you get what you needed?” Mayor Jenkins asks, tone forthright.

“I did,” I tell him before turning my attention back to her. “Thank you, again, Mrs. Jenkins. I’ll be sure to get the assignment done tonight.”

She forces another damn smile and says, “See you in class tomorrow, Wilder.”

I walk away, glancing frequently over my shoulder when I see her husband lean down and whisper something in her ear. She nods repeatedly, timidly even.

I don’t trust that guy, and I don’t like him either.

Once I’m back at the table, I get grilled by the group about Sam, along with a few jokes about Mrs. Jenkins. Since the start of her class, everyone fucks with me, thinking I have a thing for her. It got so much worse when I started spending time with her on that essay, and I won’t lie, maybe I did sprout some ridiculous feelings. But our time together ended abruptly and she’s kept our interactions short ever since.

My responses to the group are short with simple yes and no answers. Even as they keep going with their antics about Mrs. Jenkins and Sam.

For some reason, I just can’t stop watching her. There’s this agonizing feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me she’s in danger. It’s crazy, though. She and Mayor Jenkins have been married for years so if there was something going on in their marriage, why would she stick around? Why not just leave the asshole?

The first time I saw Mrs. Jenkins, she caught my eye. There’s something about her that has me wanting to know more. I never even knew who she was until this school year. I’ve seen her around, but she always moves quickly through the halls and doesn’t interact much outside of her classroom. I just always assumed she was an introvert who kept her head down. Which is odd for someone so beautiful and smart.

A sudden burst of pain in my shoulder has me snapping my eyes to Rome. “What the hell!” I seethe, rubbing the spot he just punched.

“Snap the fuck out of it.” He laughs. “You’re practically drooling over our teacher.”

Sam returns with my drink, eyes wide as she listens in on our conversation. “You’re drooling over Mrs. Jenkins?” she asks as she turns her head to steal a glance for herself.

“No!” I huff. “Sorry, Sam. My brother’s just an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t blame ya,” Sam says. “She’s hot as hell. But she’s out of your league.” Her hand rests on my shoulder and she leans close, whispering, “I think you need to get over her and think about my offer for prom.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she waggles her brows as she walks away.

“She’s right, ya know,” Rome says, opening his big mouth again. “Mrs. Jenkins is out of your league. Just fuck your feelings for her into Sam.”

“Shut up,” I growl, blinking my eyes around the room, landing on Mrs. Jenkins.“I’m just concerned about her.”

“Concerned?” Luke chuckles. “About what? The color of her panties?”

My eyes roll as I pick up my half-eaten pizza slice, ignoring his crude remark.

I’ve got a mouthful when Elodie asks, “Why are you concerned about her? Is something wrong?” There’s sincerity in her tone, which I appreciate because I sure as hell don’t get that from Rome or Luke.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’m sure it’s nothing. She’s just been extra quiet lately.”

“She’s always quiet,” Luke butts in and I notice him staring at her now, too. In fact, everyone is. I never should have opened my mouth. Now she’s gonna notice we’re all watching her. “She’s like this goddess full of mystery and secrets.”

“I bet she’s a murderer on the run or some government spy,” Rome says, and I immediately shake my head at my idiot brother. “Probably rigs the election for her husband, too.” He shrugs his shoulders when I glower at him. “Just saying. The quiet ones hold the darkest secrets.”

I sigh heavily. “She doesn't rig the election. Her husband was the only candidate both terms he served. This is the first year he even has an opponent.”

Luke sets his empty glass down, eyebrows raised. “So you agree she’s probably just a murderer then?”

“I gotta get out of here.” I swing my legs out of the booth and get up. “You all are too much for me.”

“Come on,” Rome sings. “We’re just fucking with you. Sit down.” He pats the seat but I shake my head. Elodie is watching Mrs. Jenkins as well and I’m kind of glad I brought it to her attention. Elodie is smart and maybe if Mrs. Jenkins won’t open up to me, there is a chance she could open up to her.

“I got schoolwork,” I lie, not wanting to go into detail about my new job for Dad’s campaign.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my wallet and retrieve a crisp ten-dollar bill. “See y’all later.” I toss down the money and make my way toward the door.

As I’m leaving, so are Mrs. Jenkins and her husband.

She looks at me, our eyes lock, and I swear for a moment she is pleading with me to help her.

Am I delusional? I must be.

“Have a good evening, Wilder,” she says softly with a pressed smile as Mayor Jenkins holds the door open.

Well, at least he did that. He can’t be that much of an asshole.

“You, too,” I tell her as I walk out behind them.

I’m definitely overthinking this whole thing. One time he showed some aggression toward her and I’ve been running with it ever since. They’re married. Married people have ups and downs.

Keeping my distance, I carefully watch as they walk down the sidewalk. Mayor Jenkins grabs her hand and something about the way he’s holding it, as if he refuses to let go, irks me.

Part of me thinks I’m being irrational until he walks around the side of the car and shoves her in her side, making her cry out. I want to go over and say something, but I quickly notice no one else is around. Neither of them can see me from where I am beside my car. But I don’t miss the evil glint in his eye as he speaks to her, still clutching her arm in his grip until he tosses it to the side.

I watch as she cradles it to her chest, pain in her features.

I know what I see, and I can’t be the only one to ever witness this. He just acted abusive toward her in a public area, which means this isn’t the first time. Not with the way he walks around the car and adjusts his tie as if this is a normal day for him.

No, other people have to have seen this. They might be cowards, unwilling to stand up to the mayor, though. However, I’m not like that. In fact, I might be the only person who is willing to do something about it because Mayor Jenkins doesn’t intimidate me the way he does everyone else in this town.

As they drive off, I catch a glimpse of her face. Terror and pain are all I see as the car pulls out of the lot.

She needs help, and I might be the only one who can save her.