Chapter 21
I put my hands on my hips. “I turned you down because you’re my cousin.”
“But I’m not. And you still didn’t want me, which didn’t make sense. But now it does.” He sits up. “Who is she?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your girlfriend. Who is she?”
“Nobody. I’m not dating anyone.” I turn away from him and walk to my dresser. “Get out, Braden. I mean it.”
I feel him behind me, his hands resting on the top of the dresser, trapping me. He leans in, and I feel his breath on my neck. “Is she hot?”
“Get the hell away from me,” I say through gritted teeth, my fists clenched. I could try to whip around and punch him, but his reflexes are too fast. He’d grab my hand before it even got close to him.
“What’s going on?” Trystan says, walking into my room.
“Your brother’s being an ass,” I say. “As usual.”
Braden steps back and turns to Trystan. “Did you know Rumor’s into girls?”
“Since when? Didn’t you used to have a boyfriend?”
“I’m not dating anyone. Braden’s just making stuff up.”
“Kristen said she saw Rumor at the beach,” Braden says. “Making out with some girl.”
I turn to face him. “Kristen said that?”
“Who’s the girl?” Trystan asks.
“She won’t say,” Braden says. “But I was about to tell her I’m up for a threesome if the girl is hot.”
“You are so disgusting.” I walk to the door. “If you guys aren’t leaving, I am.”
Braden saunters to the door, stopping right next to me. “Let me know what you decide.”
Trystan laughs and follows him out.
I slam the door shut and call Jackson. “Hey, can you talk?”
“It has to be quick. I’m at practice.”
“Kristen’s telling everyone I’m a lesbian. Her dad must’ve told her. Why would she tell people that? She knows it’s not true.”
He sighs. “Because she assumes you’re the reason I kicked her out last night. I’ll have a talk with her.”
“It’s too late. By now the whole school thinks I’m a lesbian.”
“Maybe that’s not so bad. If people think that, they won’t think there’s something going on with us.”
“They wouldn’t think that anyway unless they saw us together.”
“Which could happen. Now if we’re out and anyone saw us, they wouldn’t even consider that we’re dating. Hey, I need to go. I’m supposed to be on the field right now. I’ll call you later.”
He still doesn’t see it. Jackson refuses to believe Kristen wants him back, even though her actions make it very clear that’s what she wants.
* * *
At school the next day, I catch up with Kristen as she’s leaving class.
“I need to talk to you,” I say.
“About what?” She continues down the hall, walking fast, her nose in the air.
“Not here,” I say, as people hurry past us.
She glances around, then grabs my arm and yanks me into an empty classroom.
“What do you want?” she snaps.
“I want you to stop spreading lies about me. You know I’m not into girls.”
She slowly smiles. “That’s not what Steven said.”
“I don’t care what he said. You know it’s not true. And you didn’t need to spread it around the whole school.”
She cocks her head. “Why would you tell Steven you’re a lesbian if you’re not?”
“I didn’t tell him. He assumed.”
“And why would he assume that?”
“Because I told him I was meeting a girl.”
“With roses and cupcakes?” She laughs. “How romantic.”
“Just tell me why you did it.”
She leans down to me, her eyes narrowed, brows drawn together. “I know who gave you those roses. I know why you were at the beach. And I know why I wasn’t allowed to stay at his place the other night.”
“I never told him to do that. It was his decision.”
“You really think I believe that?” She lowers her voice. “Jackson is mine. If you can’t get that through your tiny little brain, then more stories about you will be coming out. Stories way worse than the one about you and your little girlfriend.”
“You think you have Jackson wrapped around your little finger but I’m going to change that. I’m going to make him see what you’re really like.”
She stands up straight. “Jackson will never turn his back on me. You might as well stop fighting it and find someone else.” She smirks. “Like Braden.”
She turns and goes to the door. It swings open and she passes by some girls as they walk in the classroom. I go out to the hall and see her talking to Kade. She’s probably already making up more stories about me.
I knew she was still trying to get Jackson. If only I could get him to believe me.
After school, I head to Ms. Adams’ office, dreading another counseling session.
I don’t want to go to the one Brock set up either.
I don’t like talking about my personal life, and I really don’t like talking about my mom.
I miss her so much it hurts. Everyone told me it’d hurt less as time went on, but it’s not true, at least not for me.
The more time that goes by, the more I miss her.
“Ms. Halliway,” Ms. Adams says when I walk into her office. “Have a seat.”
I sit on the bean bag chair this time, dropping my backpack on the floor next to me. The chair is so low to the ground that I can’t even see Ms. Adams.
She gets up and comes around to the butterfly chair. “I’ll take this one.” She smiles. “Studies show casual seating makes people feel more open and willing to talk.” She reaches for her notepad and pen. “What would you like to start with today?”
I stare at the floor and don’t answer.
“Ms. Halliway?” she says.
“It’s Bennet,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“Bennet,” I say, sounding annoyed. “My last name is Bennet.”
“I thought you preferred Halliway.”
“I prefer Bennet. I use Halliway at school because I’ve been told I had to in order to fit in.”
She frowns. “Who told you that?”
“Your boss.”
“I see.” She scribbles down something in her notepad. “Moving on. How is school going?”
I keep quiet, focusing on a string that’s hanging off the hem of my skirt. Staring at the hem reminds me of Jackson’s hand going under it, sliding up my thigh to my panties, then—
“Ms. Halliway,” Ms. Adams says. “I need you to pay attention.”
“I’m really not into this today,” I say, sinking farther into the chair and tipping my head up to the ceiling.
“I didn’t stay past regular hours to have you ignore me. I’m here to help you so I would appreciate it if you’d sit up straight and pay attention.”
Remaining in my current position, I close my eyes and yawn.
She taps her heels on the floor really fast. We just started, and I’ve already annoyed her to the point she probably wants to kick me out of her office. Brock would be proud of my acting job.
“You’re booked for an hour,” she says. “I’m not letting you go early for acting this way. We’ll just sit here until the hour is up.”
“Works for me,” I say, getting out my phone.
She lets out a long sigh. “Rumor, I realize this is a difficult time. Many teens tend to act out when they lose a parent. It’s their way of expressing sadness.
They use anger to cover it up. Or they might be angry at their parent for leaving.
I don’t know what you’re feeling right now but I understand. ”
“I’m sure you do,” I say sarcastically, flipping through my phone.
“I lost my mother too, when I was fourteen.”
I stop scrolling and wait for her to continue.
“She stood in front of a train and waited.”
My eyes lift from my phone. “She killed herself?”
Ms. Adams nods. “She hadn’t been taking her meds. She had severe depression and had tried suicide twice before that.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“I’m not telling you this for your sympathy. I’m telling you so you know you’re not alone. Although it’s different for everyone, I do understand what it’s like to lose a parent at a young age.”
“Was your dad around?”
“He was, but he was never the same after that. He spent all his time at the office and didn’t come home until after I was asleep.
I didn’t have brothers and sisters, so I spent a lot of time by myself.
It took years to get over my grief. If I’d had someone to talk to, someone who would listen, I wouldn’t have been stuck in my grief for so long. ”
She seems sincere and like she really does want to help, but I don’t trust her. I can’t. She works at Twisted Pine, where everyone lies and puts on a phony act, and nothing is as it seems.
“Sorry, but I’m just not into it,” I say, looking back at my phone. “I’ll sit here for an hour, but I’m not going to talk.”
She writes something in her notebook, then goes around to her desk. I hear her typing on her laptop, which continues for the next half hour. Then she comes back to the butterfly chair and attempts to get me to talk again. When I won’t, she goes back to her desk and types some more.
At five, she stands up, gazing down at me in the bean bag chair. “You can go now. I’ll see you on Friday.”
“I’m not coming,” I say, getting up.
“You don’t have a choice. It’s mandatory.”
“I’ll have my uncle talk to Principal Edwards. He doesn’t want me coming here anymore.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Brock is behind this? Did he tell you to act this way today?”
“You called him Brock.” I swing my backpack over my shoulder. “I knew you two had a history.”
“We didn’t—” She stops, her lips pursed. “Tell Mr. Halliway I am very disappointed he doesn’t see the benefit in you continuing therapy. You may want to remind him he’s been seeing a therapist every week for the past twenty years.”
“He has?”
“He’ll tell you it’s just something actors do. They all have therapists, which is somewhat true, but regardless, banning you from therapy after losing your mother is just plain wrong. You can tell him I said that.”
“Okay. So are we done here?”
“Yes,” she mutters, getting her purse from the drawer.
We leave her office and she locks it up, then goes out the back door to the staff parking lot. I’m left alone in the empty hallway. Everyone’s gone except the janitor, who’s probably cleaning one of the classrooms.
Getting out my phone, I text Ana, telling her I’m ready to go. I hope she doesn’t take forever to get here. Being alone at this school freaks me out. It already looks like a haunted mansion. Add in the silent hallways and dim evening lighting, and it freaks me out even more.
I go down the admin hall to the main entrance, stopping when I hear a noise. It sounds like someone moaning. Shit. Maybe the place really is haunted.
Knowing I should leave but curious what that sound is, I quietly walk down the row of classrooms, stopping when I hear it again. More moaning.
“Oh, God, yes!” a woman says.
I freeze. It’s coming from the classroom just up ahead.
“Fuck, baby, you turn me on,” a man says.
The man almost sounds like — no, that couldn’t be. Could it?
“Harder!” the woman says, sounding breathless. “Yes! More!”
“You want it harder?” the guy says. “I’m gonna pound into you so fucking hard.”
That time, I’m sure of it — it’s Principal Edwards. He must be with the woman he’s having an affair with. Why would he be with her at school? Maybe it’s one of the teachers.
I should get a photo. If I got evidence of Principal Edwards cheating, Kristen would have what she needs to get her mom to divorce him. Then Jackson would be done helping Kristen, and she’d be out of our lives.
I get the camera ready as I slowly walk forward. When I reach the door, which is cracked open, I shove up against the wall, so they won’t see me.
They’re still moaning and panting, and I hear what sounds like a desk scraping against the floor. I lean over and peek into the room.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, then quickly cover my mouth, realizing I said it out loud. I shove back against the wall, my heart racing.
The woman I heard moaning — the one having sex with Principal Edwards — is Kristen.
She’s topless, but wearing her uniform skirt, bent over a desk with Principal Edwards behind her, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her. He’s not forcing her to do this. She wants it.
“Harder,” she says, panting. “Don’t stop. Yeah, baby. Right there.” She moans. “I love how you know what I like.”
“You know I’d do anything for you.” He groans. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight.”
“Touch me,” she demands. “Grab my ass.”
Fumbling with my phone, I unlock it and get the camera ready.
This isn’t the photo I thought I was getting, but this is even better.
It’ll finally get Kristen out of Jackson’s life.
When he sees this, he’ll finally realize she’s nothing but a conniving liar, making up stories so she can stay at his house.
Get his sympathy. Tear us apart. I’ll finally have proof she’s not the innocent girl she pretends to be.
I have the perfect shot. Kristen has her face in the air, tilted toward the camera. Anyone could tell it’s definitely her and not someone else. And behind her is Principal Edwards, still in his work clothes, his pants undone, pounding into her.
I press the button to take the photo and continue to press it, so I have multiple shots. Then I tiptoe out of there, fearing that if I’m there a second longer, I might be caught.
When I’m outside the school, I check my camera to see the shots.
There’s an error message on the screen.
Unable to save photo. Storage capacity has been reached.