13. Cin
Cin
Mid backswing I hear Mr. Finnighan’s voice holler my name, and when I glance up, he looks pissed. I can’t imagine I’ve done anything to warrant such a reaction, but his face is stern. Eyebrows cast down, glasses held in his fist as he speaks to Mrs. Kend.
She looks as confused as I do, until he says something else and her face drains of color. She holds up her hands and pats at the air, mouth moving at a rate I can’t read.
“…I’m sure there’s an explanation,” I catch her saying when I jog over to the fence that goes around the courts.
“An explanation for what?” I ask, eyeing Mr. Finnighan, Mrs. Kend, and the security guard I’ve seen around.
“Miss Morgan, I need you to put the racket down and follow me, immediately.”
His tone brokers no room for argument, and I start to worry that something’s gone wrong with Mama’s case. Leaning the racket up against the chain-link fence, I jog to the gate where I can let myself out.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Finnighan?” I ask, to which he doesn’t respond. Instead he walks at a quick clip into the academic building. Students are slowly gathering around an office that I recognize as Mr. Skeens.
I come here to help him file sometimes, he’s the only professor that’s graded anything that I’ve turned in fairly. Most of the time he’s not even in here, he’s in a lecture, or off doing whatever it is he does.
“Miss Morgan,” I spot Mr. Skeens as the crowd disperses at the warning look Mr. Finnighan gives them, “please explain to them, this is a mistake.”
“Mr. Skeens? I’m sorry,” my brows are drawn in, my lip is tipped up on one side, “what are you talking about?”
Mr. Finnighan balks, and orders for everyone to leave immediately.
“What is going on?” I demand, I don’t know what I am needing to explain. I’m confused and irritated.
“See for yourself,” Mr. Finnighan says, pointing into Mr. Skeens office.
My eyes grow wide, and my mouth pops open, because right there, on the edge of Mr. Skeens’ desk are my panties, and my bra is… oh sweet mother of Mary.
“Why are my clothes in here?” I ask, turning around to look at the three men who are looking at me with equal confusion.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Mr. Finnighan snaps.
“Need I remind you that fraternizing with students is prohibited Nathan? And you, I’ll be contacting your mother,” he walks toward me, but I stand tall. I look to Mr. Skeens for help and he looks just as perplexed as I am.
“Call her,” I smile, “because I don’t know how my clothes got in here, and insinuating that Mr. Skeens and I are having sex is unacceptable without proof. You think a change of clothes strewn about his office is sufficient? The very same clothes that I changed out of in the gym and put into my locker in the gym . You can ask any of the girls on the court, they’ll tell you I changed there. So, Mr. Finnighan, how do you propose my clothing got in here?” I prop my arms on my ample hips as I take in the seething, red face of the headmaster, but I’m not done dressing this man down.
“I’m sure my mother will be happy to supply you with the resources to figure out who really took my clothing and placed it here. Should you need the assistance.”
Crossing my arms over the t-shirt I changed into for tennis, I keep my face impassive. He can call my mother, no one has seen the wrath of Mama Morgan yet, but maybe it’s time.
“Follow me,” he spits and I look back at Mr. Skeens to see if he’s following. It’s not his fault he was roped into this mess. I know exactly who did this, the moment I saw his face, standing at the end of the hall, far enough that Finnighan wouldn’t see him, but close enough that I would.
It’s time I come clean to Mama, only so I can have her full backing when it comes to this. I don’t want a good teacher to lose his job because of Talon’s childish temper tantrums. Plus, I’m sick of everyone calling me a slut when they think no one hears, it’s annoying and frankly, ignorant.
During the walk across campus, I keep my body language bored. No need to draw any further attention, though, if I know Talon, he’s going to have something posted about it soon. He wants me to know he’s actively trying to get me thrown out of Ravard, and I’ll admit, he’s better than most. But I’ve been trained by my Mama in interrogation tactics, simulated emergency plans, and even more he couldn’t wrap his tiny fish brain around. He won’t get to me that easy.
The moment we enter the administration building Mrs. Davis eyes me like I’m a deviant sent to suck her soul straight from her chest. I roll my eyes but continue on into Mr. Finnighan’s office.
Mr. Skeens and I sit across from Mr. Finnighan’s desk and wait as he dials my mothers phone number. The speaker rings until it clicks with the obvious noise of someone answering.
“Hello Mr. Finnighan,” her smooth voice breaks the silence permeating the air, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Mrs. Morgan, there’s been an… incident involving your daughter,” he stumbles over his words. And I can hear the change in her tone when she replies, “what kind of incident?”
“It has come to my attention that Miss Morgan has become involved with one of my professors,” he tilts his head and nods toward the phone where I can hear my mother laughing.
“You must be joking,” she says after catching her breath, “my daughter would never cross that boundary, no matter what the situation. Have you asked her about these allegations?”
“He basically called me a whore, and threatened to fire Mr. Skeens,” I say, because if there’s one thing my mother will not tolerate, it’s the disrespect.
“Oh, Muffin, it’s good that you’re here so we can sort this out. Now, tell me what happened, in detail,” she asks, and so I tell her my side of events and then allow Mr. Skeens to do the same. Once all parties have shared, she sighs, “Mr. Finnighan, please, pick up the receiver,” her voice is icy, and I know she’s about to read him the riot act.
When he doesn’t immediately jump to do as she’s asked she tuts, something she does when she’s disappointed, “I suggest you pick up the phone and dismiss my daughter and Mr. Skeens, unless you’d like for them to listen to the verbal warning you deserve.”
He whips into action then, eyeing us both as my mothers voice dominates the speaker in his ear. His eyes expand, and I almost laugh. He waves his hand at us, dismissing us from the room.
When we’re out of the building I turn to Mr. Skeens and apologize, “I’ll go grab my things, but Mr. Skeens, I’m truly sorry for this, it’s not fair for you to be collateral damage in a silly little boy’s games. I thought he was done since the last few weeks have been quiet.”
He nods and gives me a sad smile, “I’ve been thinking of leaving anyway, and this whole scenario just might be the push I need to actually do it.”
“I’ll make sure you keep your job, but I won’t be able to work for you any more. Just promise to finish this year out,” I request, because he is one of the best teachers I’ve ever had.
He nods and heads toward the faculty apartments tucked behind the boys’ dorms, while I head to the athletics department.
I’ve got a fish to fry.