Slain (26 page)

Mike clutches his face but says nothing. He just glares. For all his talk, I doubt he’s ever been in a real fight. I’ve never seen him so outmanned, so totally scared shitless and unsure of himself. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little bit satisfying.

“Did you hear what I said, motherfucker?”

Red faced and fuming, Mike scrambles backward like a crab, and runs away.

“You have to get out of here,” I say to Jackson. “He’s going to tell.”

“So let him,” Jackson says, still amped on his own testosterone.
 

I grab his arms and force him to look me in the eye. “You don’t need the police involved in this. Go. Now.”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and turns to go. But at the last second he pulls me against him and kisses me so deeply it sends a wave of electricity down to my toes. I have to fight the urge to tell him to stay, police be damned. Thankfully, he pulls away before I can say anything at all and, with a cocky grin, runs toward the parking lot.

I don’t see Mike all day. I overhear someone saying he’s out sick, which means he must be at home licking his wounds. Surprisingly, he didn’t go to the teachers as I expected. He didn’t even call the police. Jackson must have really scared him.

By the next morning it’s starting to feel almost normal at school. Being grounded has given me a chance to catch up on some of my homework, and it feels good to do something so ordinary. I walk into the building with a backpack full of assignments to hand in.

The first bell rings, telling us to head to class. I pick up the pace as I head to my locker. On the way, I smile at Naomi, but she doesn’t smile back. She looks away and shuffles off. That’s odd. Maybe Katie finally made her a convert of the we-secretly-hate-Emma-club.

But it’s not just her. Erica, Hannah, Ben, and Angela do the same exact thing. Even Chuck won’t make eye contact with me. Now I’m worried. What’s going on?

I see it once I turn the corner. There, in bright orange letters sprayed on my locker:

SLUT

The word sears into me. It must be Mike.

Katie walks up with a cotton-candy simper on her face. She hands me a folded paper.

“I just wanted to give you these. They’re verses about seeking forgiveness.”

“Did you do this?” I ask. I can barely contain my rage.

“No, sweetie,” she says, her face in a best-actress mode of surprise. She puts her hand on my shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. “I’d never do anything like that to you.”

Sure she wouldn’t.

“It really could have been anyone, though. Everybody heard,” she says.

“Heard what?” I ask.

“Mike told everyone,” she says.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
 

It’s his one last weapon against me. I thought I was ready for this, ready to tell everyone the truth, but I’m not. My face blanches so white that Katie’s confidence falters. She’s just staring at me now.

“What did Mike say?” I ask.

“Look, maybe you should talk to him about it.” Her face is suddenly unsure. She may be happy for me to fall, but it’s a very different thing to want power and to actually have it.

She tries to walk away, but I grab her arm. “Katie, please, what did he say?”

Her eyes go downcast. It’s so awful she can’t say it to my face.

“He didn’t say it. He posted it,” she says. “I gotta get to class.” I release my grip, and she walks away. “I’m praying for you,” she says over her shoulder, and this time I think she really means it.

I twist the lock with my combo and dump my stuff inside. Then I reach into my purse for my phone before remembering that it’s sitting on the street outside Safeway, crushed into a million tiny pieces.
 

The halls are almost empty; I’m running out of time. I race toward homeroom. The last thing I need right now is more attention for being late.

The final bell rings right as I have my hand on the door. Miss Hope scowls at me as I enter, but doesn’t single me out. Today is free study period in homeroom, and I intend to use it to see what Mike posted about me online. I have my iPad with me, but we’re not allowed to use them in class, so I go to a computer and fire it up. I’m almost logged in when there’s a knock on the door. It’s Vicki, she’s the main office student assistant this hour. She hands a note to Miss Hope.

“Emma?” Miss Hope says. Of course it’s me.

“Yes?” I say.

“Principal Hendricks would like to see you in his office. Go ahead and take your things with you.”

Everyone stares, whispers.

I expected this, I guess. It was only a matter of time until word reached the principal. But still, that Miss Hope told me to take my things is serious. It means I’ll either be in there for a while or won’t be back at all. I want to snatch the note from her hand to see what it says, but I don’t. I collect my backpack and head toward the main office.
 

Principal Hendricks is waiting at his door for me. “Come on in, Emma,” he says. His face is stern, angry, but also a little amped up. He lives for moments like this, I think. He always looks a little too excited to punish us.
 

I enter and settle into one of his chairs. He sits behind his desk.
 

“It has come to my attention that you may have broken the student conduct code,” he says. “As you know, we expect our students to be ambassadors for Christ at all times. Therefore, it is against our policies for students to engage in intimate behavior with one another or non-students, either on or off school grounds. Violation of this policy can lead to immediate expulsion, at my sole discretion.”

“Okay,” I say. I’m aware of the policy. We all are. If your parents are forcing you to go here, the easiest way to get expelled is post something racy online. It has happened before.

I, however, do not want to get expelled. I can’t even imagine the hoops I’d have to jump through to graduate at any other school at this point. The science classes alone would have me stuck in summer school. It’s one of the reasons I’ve tried to be so careful about Jackson. Not that it worked. The police know. My parents know. And, more importantly, Mike knows.
 

I know what Principal Hendricks wants here, and I should do it. He wants me to grovel, confess my sins, and ask for his forgiveness so that I can walk around with a virtual scarlet letter on my chest for the rest of the year. But I don’t think I can. I feel torn between what I feel is right and what will help me graduate.
 

The problem is that I don’t feel guilty about what I did with Jackson. Not one bit. Even after everything that’s happened, I don’t regret making the choice that I did.

I sense a shift in myself lately. Maybe all my hiding and all my secrets were mistakes. Maybe what would have been best all along was a fight.

“I’ve already spoken with Michael Kent. He came to me this morning of his own free will,” he says.

Something about that statement isn’t right.

I
DON
’
T
GET
IT
. ‘
Of his own free will’
implies Mike, too, is guilty. Did he say we did something together? But why?

Principal Hendricks stares at me, waiting for a response. I wish I’d had time to read what Mike posted. What I say now could affect my entire future. Does Principal Hendricks think I slept with Jackson…or Mike? It’s a gamble. A huge one.

But the pieces are falling into place. Mike knows the routine as well as I do. Sin big, confess big, gain even greater respect. People would think Jackson took advantage and I was weak. But eventually, I would be forgiven for Jackson, as long as I felt bad enough about it.

So what’s worse than being seduced by a non-believer? Seducing a golden boy.
 

That wouldn’t be forgiven so easily. I would be marked as the temptation, marked as easy. Mothers would warn their sons against me. The other girls would band around their boys, righteous, holy protection from me. He doesn’t just want to ruin my reputation. He wants to make me a pariah.

“I have no idea what Mike told you, but I know for certain we’ve done nothing together that has in any way violated the student conduct code,” I say, going all-in on Mike lying about me. I hope it works.

Principal Hendricks stares at me. I can’t tell if he’s scrutinizing my honesty or galled that I would try to hide my relationship with Jackson under such a flimsy cover.
 

I hope, more now than ever, that my flawless history will count for something. But Mike has the same history I do. Whatever he’s said, it’s his word against mine. I decide to continue.

“I only learned this morning that Mike posted something online that challenged my character. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet and have no idea what he said against me. But I think you should know that we broke up recently, and Mike was not happy about it.”

“And you believe he’s retaliating?” Principal Hendricks asks. I still don’t know what he knows. I still don’t know if Mike has told him about Jackson. But it’s too late now.

“I don’t know what he’s doing,” I say, too angry, and I’m tearing up, and my voice is getting shaky because all of this is so unfair. Mike and I have done nothing, and even if we had, why is my sex life any of the school’s business? In any other school this would be a vicious rumor. Embarrassing, maybe, but nothing more. Here, it’s linked to my whole life. I can’t stand it anymore.
 

“Please calm down, Miss Grant,” he says. “There’s no need to get emotional.” He slides a box of tissues toward me, then leans back in his chair, scrutinizing me again.

I dry my eyes and try to get my breathing under control. I have to be the rational one. Principal Hendricks is not the type of man who responds to tears.

“It saddens me very much to think that one of the two of you is lying to me,” he says, “and one of you most certainly is. Whoever it is, they will be severely punished.”

“It’s not me,” I say in the most controlled way I can manage, and look him straight in the eye.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Ms. Grant, to tell me your side of the story, to save yourself from possible expulsion. If you have anything else to say, you’d better say it now.”

“I have nothing else to add,” I say.

“Very well. I will take this matter under consideration and notify you as soon as I’ve made my decision. In the meantime you will be allowed to attend classes as usual.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, and get up to leave.

“Oh, and Ms. Grant?”
 

“Yes, sir?”

“Please speak to the custodial department about obtaining the necessary materials to clean off your locker. I expect it to be spotless by the end of the day.” A punishment. In his eyes, no matter what I’ve done, I am guilty by association.

“Yes, sir,” I say, and it takes everything in me not to spit the words back in his face.

Out of his office, I race to the bathroom. Tears are blurring my vision again, and I have no idea how much time is left in first period. I really don’t want anyone to see me like this, and I have to know what Mike said. I make it into the farthest stall and fumble inside my backpack for my iPad. I turn it on and go directly to Mike’s Facebook page. I read through the post, and I feel both victory and alarm as I process what he wrote last night.

I need to ask all of you for your forgiveness, and I picked Facebook because I just can’t stand hiding this from anyone anymore. I’m not as strong as you thought I was. I’ve fallen in the worst possible way. I’m not a virgin anymore.

I know this will shock a lot of you. It sorta shocks me too. I believe exactly what I’ve always believed, that sex is a sacred rite reserved for marriage. But I messed up. I thought I was following my heart. I love her so much, and I just wanted to make her happy. She said she’d done it before, and I didn’t want to lose her. I should have been her spiritual leader, but I wasn’t strong enough to say no. I broke a promise to my Heavenly Father. I’m so sorry. I’ll understand if none of you wants to be friends with me anymore.

I’m praying a lot, and I’m not seeing her anymore. It wouldn’t be right. And frankly, it’s too much of a temptation still. Please pray for me.

Your Brother in Christ,

Mike

I feel a small sense of victory, because I was right. Mike said we slept together. Not outright, but the meaning is there. He doesn’t have to mention my name. Everyone will assume he’s taking the high road, and everyone will know it’s me anyway. They haven’t seen Mike with anyone else for nearly a year. At least my defense to Principal Hendricks was the right move, the only move. If I had said anything else, I would have buried myself so much deeper.

Mike’s post is crafted so well, though, that I can’t imagine anyone believing my side of the story, ever. If he had been boastful or angry, I would have had a chance. But he’s not. He’s humble and regretful. I actually marvel at the genius of it. I didn’t know Mike had it in him.
 

My anger’s been replaced by a sense of defeat so strong I can’t force myself to leave the stall. Everything is falling apart. The police think I’m guilty of murder, my parents hate me, my friends won’t trust me anymore, and I might get expelled.
 

The bell rings, and I stay inside as the room fills up with chatter, trying to be silent so no one hears me. I can’t stand them looking or not looking or their whispers or wide-eyed surprise. It’s just too much.
 

I hear Paige's voice.

“No, I didn’t, but it’s really none of our business,” she says.

“Do you think it’s true?” It’s Katie. “It’s just, when I talked to Emma this morning she seemed, like, genuinely shocked by the whole thing.” It’s weird to hear Katie defend me, even a little bit. I thought she’d be dancing in the streets when she heard we broke up.

“Only they know the answer to that,” Paige says, “but I don’t see any reason for Mike to lie about it.”

“I guess she could have been surprised he told everyone,” Katie says, and I realize from her tone that she wasn’t defending me at all. “She probably thought she had him wrapped around her little finger,” her voice is so haughty, so gleeful that my anger is coming back. I want to slap her.