Chapter Four — Sandra

It was Wednesday, five days since Sandra’s visit to the principal’s office. But she wouldn’t be at school, just like she hadn’t been the previous couple of days. Instead, she stood in the doorway and waved to her mom as she backed out of the driveway and left for work. Sandra’s backpack slipped and she readjusted it, not closing the door until the car had disappeared around the bend in the road.

Guilt made its way to the surface. She didn’t like deceiving her parents. That wasn’t who she was. But she shoved the discomfort back down, not willing to confront it, as she dropped her bag on the floor. Ever since she had been accused of cheating, she’d wondered, what was the point to it all? She had studied her brains out, knew everything on that test better than anyone else in the class, and she’d still received an F.

With the knot of guilt slowly easing, she went upstairs, changed back into her pajamas, and slipped on her robe and slippers.

Sandra stared into the bathroom mirror. She saw a normal teenage girl, but she knew that wasn’t how others perceived her. Sandra wasn’t a bad kid. And yet everyone assumed she’d look off someone else’s test. No one had believed her when she’d claimed she hadn’t cheated. Was it because of the clothes she chose to wear?

It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, Sandra wasn’t ready to face Mr. Lindley and Principal Howell quite yet.

A knock at the front door startled Sandra out of her thoughts. Who would be here at this time of the morning? She didn’t think people sold things like vacuums or encyclopedias door to door anymore. Maybe it was someone trying to save her soul by getting her to convert to their religion. It was never too early for them.

Another round of knocks commenced, and they seemed more urgent.

Sandra’s ringtone erupted from her phone at the same time. She glanced down and saw it was Amanda. With a deep breath, Sandra prepared herself and then answered the call.

Cough. Cough. “Hey, what’s up?” Sandra tried to make her voice sound scratchy and hoarse but wondered if she’d laid it on a little too thick. She walked toward the front door at the same time. When she opened it, it would be good to have Amanda on the phone, just in case there was a crazy person on the other side.

“Cut the crap. I know you’re not sick. Open the door, it’s freezing out here.”

Oh. It was a crazy person, just not a dangerous one.

Sandra opened the door and Amanda brushed past her, bringing the brisk morning air inside with her. When she turned, she studied Sandra with an appraising look.

“Pajamas. Robe. Slippers.”

“I told you yesterday, and the day before that,” Sandra said. “I’m sick.” Cough. Cough.

Amanda gave a quick shake of her head. “Look, if you’re going to skip school and pretend you have a cold or something, fine. But you don’t get to use your lines on Gracie and me. We’re your best friends.”

“But—”

Amanda held up a finger. “I know for a fact you haven’t missed work this week. And from what I hear, last night you looked like a rock star, not someone who is on their deathbed.”

“Rock star?” Sure, she had worn a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and she had taken extra time with her hair, just in case she ran into someone she knew—no one in particular, of course. It could have been anyone, really. It had nothing to do with Blair being at the library every evening for the past week.

As if Amanda could read minds, she said, “Blair has been asking about you.”

The flutter in Sandra’s stomach betrayed her emotions. “Oh, yeah?” She tried not to sound eager, though what she really wanted was to make Amanda spill everything she knew.

No. Sandra couldn’t get her hopes up like that. He wasn’t interested. And more than that—she wasn’t interested. Not since last Friday, when his mom had threatened her. If that was the kind of family he came from, she was out.

Now she just had to convince her stupid teenage hormones to stop jerking her around every time Blair came near. Or someone talked about him. Or she thought about him.

Yeah, this was going to be tricky. Not impossible, though.

“He’s been worried that he hasn’t seen you at school the last couple of days,” Amanda said, her lips twitching up.

Confusion replaced desire. Thank goodness for that. “Why? It’s not like he ever talks to me.”

Amanda looked like she knew more than she wanted to say as she searched for the right words. “Maybe he wants to talk to you and hasn’t found the right time.”

“The right time? He sits at the opposite end of our table at lunch every day. He’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“But maybe some things are best talked about in private,” Amanda said, giving Sandra a pointed look, like she should know what the heck her friend was trying to tell her.

“What… Wait, is this about the dance again?”

Amanda didn’t bother hiding her grin this time. “That’s not for me to tell. But if you keep hiding out in your bedroom, you’ll never find out.”

Sandra rolled her eyes and flopped down on the couch. “I don’t know where you get your gossip from, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I’m pretty sure he’s going with Julianna. He’s with her almost every day at the library.”

“Yeah, for a class project. Trust me, he’s not asking her to the dance.” Amanda flopped down on the opposite side of the couch and pulled her feet underneath her. “And for your information, I have a very reliable source for my gossip.”

“Who, Cameron?”

“I’m not allowed to say.” Amanda pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key.

Sandra was getting frustrated with this cloak and dagger conversation. “Well, thanks for the heads up, but if Blair really wants to go to the dance with me, he knows where to find me every afternoon at three o’clock.”

Amanda snorted. “What, with Madam Librarian watching your every move?”

With a pointed look at the door, Sandra said, “Aren’t you going to be late for school?”

“Aren’t you?” Amanda retorted.

“No. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some TV to catch up on.”

Amanda stood, but she didn’t walk away. “Just because Mr. Lindley was a turd doesn’t mean you need to swear off humanity.”

“It wasn’t just him,” Sandra said, thinking of the way Principal Howell had spoken to her. That had been the worst part of it.

Amanda shifted toward the front door. “The principal is known for being hard on kids. You’re not the first.”

Yeah, that was true. But it seemed that ever since Blair’s mom had become their principal last year, she’d had it in for Sandra. Only a few months after Principal Howell had gotten the job, she’d called Sandra into her office to talk about appropriate school attire. Sandra had been wearing one of her Day of the Dead T-shirts, and Principal Howell had launched into a lecture about creating a positive learning environment.

Sandra had tried explaining that it wasn’t meant to be creepy and that Day of the Dead didn’t have anything to do with celebrating death. It was quite the opposite, a celebration of life where people remembered their ancestors and those who had passed before them. Like her younger brother.

But all the principal had seen was the skull on Sandra’s shirt, and Sandra had suddenly been thrown into the ‘gothic’ category.

Sandra had been respectful and thanked the principal for her point of view, and then promptly gone shopping. Sandra had worn her spiked wrist bands for the first time the following Monday. Was it juvenile? Maybe. But Sandra saw it as making a statement. A person shouldn’t be judged by the clothes they wear, and they shouldn’t feel ashamed of expressing who they are.

Apparently Principal Howell hadn’t agreed based on the several lectures Sandra had received throughout the school year. Thank goodness the principal had eventually given up.

Or so Sandra had thought. Until last Friday.

This time, the principal had gone too far. A lecture on wearing spiked wristbands and skulls was one thing. But accusing her of being both a cheater and a liar? That wasn’t something Sandra would be able to forgive easily, and she certainly wouldn’t forget how she had been treated.

But then an idea sparked. “No, I’m not the first. But maybe I’ll be the last.”

Amanda looked at her warily. “The last what?”

“The last one she wrongly accuses. The last one she treats unfairly. The last…everything.”

Yes…Sandra liked the idea the more it took root.

“What are you talking about?” Amanda asked.

“I’m not going back. Ever. Let that be on Principal Howell’s conscience.”

It was crazy, but why not? She only had four months left, and only one of her classes counted toward graduation. She’d done well enough up to that point that she figured she’d still pass.

A blank stare settled on Amanda’s face. “I’m sorry?”

“When Principal Howell realizes she was the reason one of her students dropped out, she’ll have to recognize what she’s done and apologize. I’ll be a legend—the one who stopped Principal Howell’s barbaric ways.”

“A legend?” The blank look hadn’t disappeared.

“Okay, that may be taking things a little too far. But it will make her think twice about how she treats future students. I’ve been looking for a good cause to contribute to, and I’ve found one.”

Amanda snapped out of her stupor. “Women’s rights is a cause. Equality in the workplace is a cause. Heck, even cleaning up the ocean is a cause. But dropping out of school to teach Principal Howell a lesson? How do you know she’ll even care?”

Good point. Sandra shouldn’t work under the assumption that Principal Howell had a conscience.

But still…the principal did have a reputation to keep. And it wasn’t like Sandra was actually dropping out. She just wouldn’t attend school for a week or two—make it seem like she was dropping out.

“She’ll care,” Sandra said. “I’ll make sure of it.”