Getting Played (Getting Some, #2)(58)

“I said, go fuck yourself, Dean.”

I look around the room.

“Is this a joke?”

Jason shakes his head. “Just leave me alone.”

I stand up from my desk. “Let’s go in the hallway and talk, Jay. You and me.”

“Are you deaf? Fuck off.”

“Jason!” Quinn calls, her voice bordering on panic.

But Jay keeps his furious right eyes on me.

I know how I’m supposed to deal with a student like this. It’s textbook attention-seeking behavior. I should clear the room, send the rest of the class to the auditorium, take the audience away.

But that’s not what I do.

Because I’m an idiot.

And because Jason Burrows is so much more to me than just a student.

“Hallway, now,” I bark in my coaching voice—the one that says do what you’re told and don’t even think of arguing. “I’m not asking.”

Jason sits back in his chair and folds his arms.

“And yet I’m still saying no. Funny how that works. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I can have you escorted to McCarthy’s office by security. You don’t want to talk to me—you can explain this temper tantrum to her. Is that how you want to play this?”

His mouth clamps shut and his chin juts out.

Goddamn it.

I move toward the phone on the wall, but even as I do, I don’t know if I’ll actually make the call. Because once I bring the administration into this, it’s out of my hands—I can’t protect him, I can’t fix this for him. A whole host of bad shit could happen and there’d be nothing I could do to stop it.

Jason’s chair scrapes across the floor as he pushes it back.

“You know what?” He stands beside his desk, looking like he wants to pop my head like a grape with the force of his eyes alone. “Fine. Let’s go in the hallway.”

The vise that was crushing my chest loosens.

“Okay, good.”

“Just one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

But it loosened too soon.

Because this good, smart, amazing kid—who’s never had so much as a tardy on his record—picks up his chair and hurls it straight at the windows. The glass shatters—cracks and spiderwebs—as sharp shards of window pane fall in clattering chunks to the floor.

I stare at those broken pieces.

“Fuck.”



~



We all end up in McCarthy’s office. Me, Lainey and Jason sit in the chairs across from her desk.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

Jason slouches in his chair. “My teacher’s a douchebag—how about them apples?”

“Jason!” Lainey gasps.

McCarthy turns to Lainey. “Has he always been this much of a shithead?”

“No! No, he’s never acted out before.”

“Well, he’s certainly making up for lost time.” McCarthy shuffles some papers on her desk. “Coach Walker’s douchebaggery notwithstanding—you destroyed school property.”

He shrugs. “Seemed like a good thing to do at the time.”

Miss McCarthy is a hardass and a little bit crazy, but she cares about every student in this building. Hell, David Burke—an epic-level screw-up from a few years back—became her foster kid, and is currently in his second year at a top-notch college because of McCarthy. But every administrator has a point of bullshit no return, where they’ll bring the hammer down hard. And because I’ve personally pushed her to that point more than once, back in the day, I know for a fact, she’s there now.

“You could have injured the other students in your class. That doesn’t fly with me.”

I try to throw myself on the grenade.

“This is on me, Miss McCarthy.”

“Oh? Did you use his arm to pick up the chair and throw it through my window?”

“No, but I could’ve handled the situation differently. If I had just—”

She turns back to Jay. “You’re going to be expelled if you don’t start explaining yourself right now.”

“Expelled?” Lainey chokes. “But he’s never—”

“Dean kissed Miss Simmons.”

My blood goes cold and the tips of my fingers tingle. And every drop of color drains out of my face.

No, no, no, no, no . . . this is not fucking happening.

“What?” Lainey’s voice is breathless, like she got punched in the stomach, like the wind has been knocked from her lungs.

She turns her head to me, so fast her golden hair swings out behind her. “What is he talking about?”

“I saw him.” Jason leans across his mother toward me—his face twisted with hurt and fury. “I saw you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not what you saw, Jay, I swear to God.”

I put my hand on Lainey’s shoulder, bringing her eyes to mine.

“I can explain.”

Wrong answer, asshole.

I’m batting a thousand today. Because explanations are for cheaters—she doesn’t want to hear an explanation, she wants to hear it never happened, it wasn’t me, some kind of mistaken identity.