The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(87)

To my surprise, he flinches. He doesn’t acknowledge what I said, but he opens the door, looking like he’s got a heavy weight on his shoulders. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. Since I know, he must be wondering if other people do, too. And if so, how long before this explodes in his face?

“I can’t believe you pulled this shit,” Dylan snarls at me. “You couldn’t just admit that I beat you, huh? You had to go for round two. Well, guess what? I’m gonna—”

“Stop talking,” Principal Warick cuts in. “And get in my office. Right now.”


I get a pass from the secretary and head toward my next class, but before I get there, I hear the rapid click of high heels. Turning, I spot Ms. Smith coming toward me. She really is beautiful, tall and slim, with legs that go on forever in a black pencil skirt. She’s wearing a simple white blouse that looks more expensive than it is, because of her elegant frame. Her long blond hair is caught in a tortoiseshell clasp, and she hardly looks old enough to be Dylan’s mom. I understand all over again why he’s worried about his friends trying to sleep with her and I’m sad that he needs to be.

The world is so screwed up.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“You’re Sage, right?” Ms. Smith asks.

I nod, wondering what she wants.

“I saw your videos. Your boyfriend’s really good.” She fumbles, twisting her fingers together. “The secret … the one about me … is it what I think it is?”

Oh, shit.

“Probably,” I mumble. This is so awkward. I never wanted to hurt her. She seems like a sweet woman, if not the most discerning about men.

“And my son really did all those things to you? He followed you?” This is what’s bothering her, I guess, not that her secret affair might get out. I like her better for it.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I never intended to say anything. I just wanted Dylan to leave us alone.”

“I know he can be protective of me, but I swear I had no idea.” Ms. Smith bites into her lower lip, looking even younger. I feel like buying her ice cream. It must be hell to be her son. “What can I do to make this right?”

My answer doesn’t require much thought. “You could drop the charges against Shane. Unless Dylan’s eighteen, he can’t pursue this without your backing. That would be a start.”

“You can guarantee that Shane won’t go after Dylan again? He shouldn’t have done any of this, but he’s my son, and I love him. I won’t see him hurt.”

“I promise. I’ll make sure Shane knows it’s a condition of the deal.” It’s not a legal solution, but if Ms. Smith drops the charges, Shane could come home, right? Excitement surges through me.

“All right,” she says, her shoulders drooping. “I’ll go down to the station tonight. Dylan won’t like it, but I’m in no mood to care.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Dylan’s lucky to have a mom like you.”

“He doesn’t think so.”

There’s not much I can say to that. So I give her a half smile. “Anyway … I should get going.” My pass has a time written on it, and while I suspect teachers will cut me some slack, given the drama I’ve created with my videos, I can’t push it too far.

“You seem like a nice girl. I’m sorry about all of this. Dylan should’ve known better than to dredge up the past. Lord knows I’ve made my share of mistakes.”

I’m curious if she counts Principal Warick among them, but I only wave and hurry down to the hall to my classroom. Everyone looks up when I slip in, but the teacher doesn’t pause. I’m grateful for that. Since it’s chemistry, I join Ryan at our table, where the experiment’s already underway.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. But … I’m hopeful.”

Three days later, Dylan is suspended from school for a week … and the most astonishing part? Mr. Warick is seen at a local hotel because he’s apparently moved out of the family home. I feel bad for his wife and kids, but I guess it’s better to have a clean break. But I’m not sure if clean is ever the right word for a situation like his.

I pester Aunt Gabby daily for updates on Shane’s situation. And the day after Dylan returns to school, she comes home wearing a frown. My stomach clenches.

“What happened?”

“I talked to Shane’s lawyer. Since Ms. Smith has dropped the charges, his offense no longer goes on his permanent record, and he can be released from Ingram.”

“But that’s good news, right?” I don’t understand why she looks so sad.

“His dad still isn’t around, Sage. Since he’s not willing to assume custody, the state has to send him into foster care until he turns eighteen.”

“That’s only four months away,” I protest, remembering he told me his birthday’s in July.

“It doesn’t change anything. Four months or four days, right now he’s a minor, and he can’t live on his own.”

“He could get … what’s it called … emancipated. Can’t his lawyer help him with the papers?”

“I’ll check into it,” my aunt promises, “but legal petitions take time. It may end up being faster for him to wait until he ages out of the system.”