Chapter 147 Chapter One Hundred And Forty Seven
“I can’t believe it.”
The vice principal's office was exactly as soul-crushing as I remembered from the one other time I'd been here.
It was in my freshman year, when I'd been called in as a witness after a few football players vandalized the gym.
The walls were a depressing beige that seemed designed to drain all hope from whoever entered.
Motivational posters hung at random spots on the wall; TOLERANCE, KINDNESS, LOVE and RESPECT YOURSELF, RESPECT OTHERS. The cheerful messages felt very ironic given the current situation.
We were all crammed into the space like sardines; all seven students plus a few witnesses pulled from the cafeteria.
The chairs were the uncomfortable plastic sort that made my back ache after barely five minutes. But there weren't enough of them, so Marcus and a couple of other football players had to stand against the wall.
Every single one of us was covered head to toe in food.
Marinara sauce had dried in my hair, making it stiff and sticky, chocolate frosting stained Nicole's white shirt, Jake had what looked like mashed potatoes in his collar and Jace's leather jacket was splattered with what I hoped was pudding.
Noah had somehow maintained most of his dignity, though there was a suspicious yellow stain, maybe mustard? on his otherwise pristine khakis.
It brought me a little bit of satisfaction to see that Allison looked the worst out of all of us. She looked like she'd been hit by a dessert truck, with so many cake crumbs clinging to her hair and tons of frosting smeared across her designer dress.
Mrs. Sinclair sat behind her desk glaring at all of us in disbelief. “I really, can’t believe this!”
She was a small woman, barely five-foot-three, but she had the sort of authority that made even six-foot football players shrink in their seats in fear.
Her grey hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, her lips pressed into a thin line of deep, deep disappointment.
Coach Ellis stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, shaking his head with disappointment.
Mrs. Sinclair let the silence stretch on for what felt like an eternity, her eyes moving from face to face, until finally, she spoke.
"In all my twenty-five years served in the educational system, I have never witnessed any group of students as unruly, as disrespectful, and as flagrantly contemptuous of basic civility as what I saw in that cafeteria today."
I flinched, shrinking lower in my seat. My hands twisted in my lap, still sticky with sauce I hadn't been able to fully wipe off.
This is it, I thought desperately. She's going to expel me. I'm going to lose my scholarship. Mom is going to be so disappointed. Everything I've worked for, gone because of a stupid food fight. Why did I ever—
"Especially you, of all people."
My head snapped up. Mrs. Sinclair was looking directly at me, and the disappointment in her eyes felt so soul-crushing that I wanted to just keep over and let the earth swallow me.
"How could you possibly have gotten yourself involved in something like this? I'm so disappointed in you, Lena."
Tears burned behind my eyes, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep them from falling so I wouldn’t embarrass myself further.
Of course, she was disappointed.
Good, quiet, invisible Lena Hartwell; the scholarship student who kept her head down and never caused problems, had just been at the centre of the biggest cafeteria disaster in Westbrook history.
"If I may, Vice Principal—" Coach Ellis started from the doorway.
"You may not, Mr Ellis." Mrs. Sinclair didn't even look at him. "I saw the interaction you had with Miss Hartwell this morning. I know she's one of your favourite students, so I will not let you use your bias to make excuses for her behaviour."
Coach Ellis nodded slowly, his jaw tight. "Understood."
The disappointment on his face somehow hurt even more than Mrs. Sinclair's lecture.
He'd always believed in me, always treated me like I was worth something every single day. He was one of the very few things in my life that kept me sane in my earlier years while I suffered at the hands of my bullies.
And now I'd let him down too.
Mrs. Sinclair turned her attention back to the group. "Which one of you is going to take responsibility for this mess?"
Cue silence.
The most heavy, suffocating silence in all of mankind.
I stared at my hands, unable to find the words while everyone else stared stubbornly at different parts of the room, pretending not to hear the question.
“Well—” I started with a whisper.
"Look, there's really no need for all this." Allison's condescending voice cut me right off, glaring at the Vice Principal. "You know you can't punish me, so you might as well let me go and stop wasting my time."
Are you kidding me right now? I thought, staring at her
"Excuse me?" Mrs. Sinclair's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"What an asshole," Nicole muttered under her breath.
"Are you fucking serious?" Marcus groaned.
"Unbelievable," Jake added.
Jace let out a harsh laugh. "Classic Allison."
"What?" Allison tossed her hair, or tried to, because it was too sticky with cake to actually move properly. "It's true!"
Mrs. Sinclair stood slowly, deliberately, her hands flat on the desk. "I know who your father is, Allison. And I know the contributions he has made to this school."
Allison smiled smugly.
"But I also know that the last time you were in this office, for hitting one of your classmates across the face, your father personally gave me permission to discipline you whenever necessary if it meant it would prevent such a situation from ever happening again."
The smile dropped from Allison's face. She went pale, her confidence cracking.
"That's not…" She fumbled for her phone, her fingers shaking slightly. "Daddy would never do that. I'm calling him right now…"