16. Trouble In Paradise #2
Principal McDermitt clasps his hands on his desk with so much disinterest that it’s stifling.
“I can acknowledge that Mr. Pedretti was out of line, but this whole altercation should’ve been resolved in a civil manner.
This school doesn’t tolerate fighting of any kind.
We’re an establishment, not a zoo. Both kids participated, both must face the consequences of their actions. ”
“Oh, but you tolerate bullying? Dominic is the one who should be in here confessing to his crimes. He should be the one getting all the backlash, but his family comes from money, so you obviously have to keep them in your good graces, right? Make sure they’re around to donate ridiculous amounts of cash to your failing ‘establishment’? ”
He slams his hands against the desk, rattling his neatly configured row of pens. “How dare you speak to me that way, Miss Capitano. I think it’s in your best interest if you leave.”
“This issue isn’t resolved yet. I’m not leaving until Dominic apologizes to Max.”
“Lake, we should go,” Sutton proposes in a quiet voice, trying to remain impartial in a war that doesn’t involve him. I know he’s just trying to de-escalate the situation, but I don’t need a neutral party. I need a friend.
“You’re seriously not going to back me up?” I snarl, redirecting all my wrath at him and letting him deal with the aftermath of my high blood pressure.
He doesn’t stand ten toes down behind me. He’s ready to dip at the first sign of trouble.
Sutton jerks his head in Max’s direction. “I just think it’s best for everyone if we leave.”
Despite all the words I wish I could say to this smug, geriatric-ass coffin dodger, I hold my tongue. Leaving the room on a sour note is better than unintentionally extending my brother’s suspension because I couldn’t keep my big, fat mouth shut.
I start ferrying Max’s small figure toward the exit with Sutton following close behind, but not before Principal McDermitt shouts over our shoulders, “Three-day suspension. Come back with an apology or find another school to attend.”
Left to lick my wounds, I take the lead and stampede through the double doors, praying that some omniscient figure gives me the strength to not carry this scene into the parking lot.
I’m not mad at Max. I’m mad at myself—mad that my brother is still suffering with trauma he obviously doesn’t know how to handle. I’m mad that I made all our lives a living hell because I let my sister die. And now I continue to make things worse by not learning from my mistakes.
For the first time in my life, I relate to my mother. It’s not easy trying to raise an entire human being when you can barely take care of yourself.
“You should’ve backed me up in there, Sutton,” I hiss under my breath, bearing the oppressive sun that beats down on us in the beginning of February.
My tear ducts burn with rheum, bile cakes my tongue, and my carelessness is still a point of contention that dangles in the air like an anvil waiting to drop.
I hear him take a few strides to catch up to me. “I was just trying to de-escalate things before they got worse.”
“You could’ve done something else besides make me look even more unhinged.”
“What could I have done? It wasn’t my place to speak.”
“I don’t know! Wave your popularity around. Pull the Mustang card.”
The sound of footfalls deadens, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s not chasing after me anymore. I whirl around myself to find him at a standstill, pain grafted to his features like I’d just run over his childhood dog. My belly bottoms out at the sight.
“Is that really what you think of me? That I’d use my reputation to manipulate others?” he asks in a strained voice, his words perforated with a shakiness that wasn’t there before.
Max is lingering a few feet away, hidden in the shadow of a large oak. My main priority should be him, not picking a fight with the person who least deserves my anger.
My chest broadens with a sigh, and I rub my eyes to staunch the hot tears that paw at my retinas. “No, that—that didn’t come out right. I’m sorry. Sometimes I just feel like the whole world is against me.”
“Oh, Lake.”
Sutton rushes over to embrace me, holding me close to his chest like he knows I have every intention of darting into the boscage adjacent to us. A flea-ridden stray that’s never known the kindness of humanity—that’s adapted to a world full of meager rations and maturating diseases.
“I’m not against you. I could never be against you.”
I’m two seconds away from completely breaking down and turning Sutton’s shirt into a snot rag when he strokes the back of my head and suggests a quick solution to a not-so-evanescent problem. “Why don’t I take you both out for ice cream? I think all of us could use a win right now.”
“Okay,” I muffle against dampening cotton. I know I’m going to have to apologize for the episode I just had, but right now, forgiveness is what stands between me and doing better. For Max. For my mom. For myself.
“Okay,” he coaxes.
Sutton Whittaker may be my only chance at finding nirvana, and maybe, just maybe, instead of seeking out eternal punishment, I accept the help I was never granted before. I accept his kindness for what it truly is—genuine, human emotion.