by Molly E. Lee
NightLocker: No!
NightLocker: Amber
NightLocker: Listen to me
God, did I want to. I wanted him to not be breaking into my system, showing up on my screen…I wanted him here. Telling me we could find our way back to common ground, or, hell, hit the reset button and start fresh. Erase every dark piece of our past.
But this was real life.
And it was heavy and hard and harsh.
PixieBurn: goodbye, Dean
I logged off and shut my gear down. He couldn’t find me if I wasn’t online.
Unless he shows up at my door…again.
My heart skipped at the thought—it betraying me as much as he had.
I’d barely survived his friendship, his light…
I certainly wouldn’t survive his hate, his disappointment, the way he’d judge me when he knew…
It didn’t matter that I’d blocked him after his first attempt to send me a chat box—he’d found his way back in.
It had only been a day since he’d wrecked me, and he was already trying to apologize. That meant something, but even if I wanted to forgive him, he’d never be able to forgive me once Tessa told him the truth. About the blog, my blog, harming her. Led her in the wrong direction.
I cringed, knowing I needed to find a way to talk to her. To make things right.
But I’d barely caught my breath since yesterday, and I had about ten minutes before my parents and I had to have a meeting with Principal Tanner.
Another shudder.
It shouldn’t matter that he would likely find a way to jack with my potential MIT acceptance. Tessa’s predicament was so much more important than that, but I couldn’t help the sinking, hollow feeling in my chest. Whatever Tanner had planned for me…
I deserved it.
“You ready?” Mom asked from my doorway, causing me to jump.
“Yeah,” I said, spinning in my chair. I left my gear in my room as I followed her out. I didn’t need it. Not for this meeting.
Dad drove, and with Mom in the passenger seat, I felt like I was ten years old again, not eighteen. Silent, my arms folded over my chest like that could hold me together—it could’ve been the time I’d got caught sneaking out after dark to meet Hannah for a midnight pool party. They were more upset that I’d gone behind their backs than with the act itself.
Kind of like today, except they supported me.
Something I was grateful for after this blog had cost me so much.
And yet, it had helped heal me, too. How was that possible?
Ms. Howard waved at me encouragingly from behind her desk as we passed her office, the look of confusion on her face indicating Tanner hadn’t told her about me yet. Once again, I wished she was Wilmont’s principal. Someone who put students’ well-being first. Someone who listened and understood and went the extra mile to ensure everyone was getting what they needed.
I waved back before following my parents inside Principal Tanner’s office as he held the door open for us. A smug, self-satisfied smile on his face as he closed the door behind him.
Mom, Dad, and I all took a seat in front of his massive desk, the silence in the room near deafening. Tanner took his time walking around his desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and finally plopping down on his plush leather office chair.
“Dr. and Mrs. Henderson,” he said, pressing his index fingers together and bringing them to a point under his chin. “We spoke briefly yesterday regarding why all of you are here today.” He glanced at my parents, his eyes darting back and forth between the two like he was waiting for something—an apology or an outburst over my actions. Something.
They were silent.
I almost laughed.
The cold churning in my stomach killed that urge.
“Right,” he continued. “Amber,” he said, looking directly at me. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
I parted my lips, but then closed them.
Tanner sighed. “I thought not,” he said, dismissing me and returning focus to my parents. “Your daughter has cost this school gravely.” He shook his head. “The content she hand-fed to my students, and countless other schools, is deplorable. It is no example for a Wilmont graduate or an MIT hopeful.”
“You can’t possibly plan to not let her graduate,” Mom said. “There are barely two months left in the school year. And she deserves to go to MIT as well. You know that.”
Tanner laid his hands flat on his desk. “This behavior cannot go unchecked,” he said, glancing at me. “Regardless if she’s only my student for two more months.”
“Not graduating or putting a barrier between her and the acceptance letter that I’m sure is on its way soon,” Dad said, “seems a little harsh considering the circumstances.”
Tanner’s eyes cut to Dad’s, the glare sharp as a razor. “The circumstances?” He tilted his head and pointed at me. “Your daughter created a website that condones teenage sexual activity. Not to mention recounted stories of rape attempts, sex changes, and even more subjects not worth repeating. It was practically a promotion for it with handbooks on sexual acts provided.”
“What?” I snapped, finally finding my voice.
Mom rested her hand on my knee, a warning look in her eyes. I sat back, my lips sealed.
“That is hardly true,” Mom said, her tone soft, respectful. “We have read each of the blog posts several times. There was never an instance where she promoted sex. She merely offered advice for those students who had already participated in such acts.”
Tanner’s jaw clenched, and he motioned to his computer. “I’ve gotten over a hundred emails from outraged parents. Some of whom have direct connections to the district’s board. All of them read the blog very differently.”
“The students came to her,” Dad said, “with questions and concerns they weren’t finding answers for anywhere else.”
“What are you implying, Dr. Henderson?” Tanner asked. “That I’m denying my students knowledge?” he said before Dad could answer.
“I’m saying they came to her. And her responses were carefully constructed and thought out. As a teen psychologist for over two decades, I know a thing or two about handling sensitive subjects. And with the popularity of the blog, she could’ve posted a slew of things merely to get attention, but she didn’t. She took the time and care to answer them without judgment or fear of reprimand.”
“When kids are left without safe places to ask the hard questions, they wind up…” Mom glanced at me, her eyes sympathetic. “They make poor choices out of sheer ignorance. Denying them the option to ask is like putting blinders on them.”
Tanner smirked. “I’m sure a person in your line of work would run this school very differently,” he said. “No topic would be off-limits, would it? I daresay there would be a class that teaches how best to get someone off—”
“That’s enough,” Dad cut him off, his tone lethal. “Watch what you say, Ed.”
My eyes widened at Dad’s use of Tanner’s first name. It sounded like a slap in the face.
“You called us here,” he continued, “to discuss the situation at hand. Don’t make this a personal attack.”
Tanner straightened, a slight nod as if to say he knew he’d gotten carried away. “An example must be made,” he said again. “I’m willing to allow Amber to graduate and to leave her fate at MIT up to the admissions board with no marring on my end…”
My heart filled with hope as I waited for him to finish.
“If she is willing to appear before the entire school and district board and take responsibility for her actions.”
“But—”
Tanner held up a finger, cutting Dad off. “As well as have the appearance live so the other schools affected by her actions can find closure as well.”
“Closure?” Mom rolled her eyes. “T
hat can be achieved with a final statement on the website. A written, heartfelt apology before the site is taken down.”
“That’s not enough,” Tanner said.
“If her identity is confirmed,” Dad said, leaning forward in his chair, “the protesting parents could confront her directly. Not to mention the students. It puts her at risk for emotional backlash at the very least. Physical at the worst.”
Tanner flinched slightly but shook his head. “She should’ve considered that before she created this torrid website.” He folded his hands together. “Those are my terms. If you don’t like it, I’ll be fine with convincing the admissions board at MIT that she’s not the material they’re looking for and to deny her graduation until she completes another year here at Wilmont.”
“You can’t do that,” Dad said.
“I can,” Tanner fired back. “You’re free to pull her and try to complete her year elsewhere, but no one will approve her when they receive my letters explaining her…” He cut his eyes to me. “Character.”
“You son of a—”
“Mom,” I said before she could continue. “It’s fine.” I nodded at Tanner. “I’ll do the assembly, or whatever it is he wants.” I shifted in my seat, rising to stand. My parents following suit as they headed toward the door, this meeting clearly at its end. They waited for me in the entryway, but I stood before Tanner’s desk.
“Know this,” I said, glaring down at him. “I see you. I’ve seen you. And while I’m prepared to stand up and admit what I’ve done, you sit behind your desk and pretend to care.” I sighed. “I’ve been your student for over a decade. And I’m willing to brave the public backlash if it means I don’t have to spend another year with you. Think about that. Let it sink in.”
He rose from his chair, too, and I had to crane my neck to keep our gazes locked.
Nothing.
Not a word I said hit home.
Would it ever? Would there ever be a day when he didn’t value his precious lineage, awards, and grants and rankings over the students who earned it for him?
“Be here tomorrow at nine a.m.” He re-buttoned his suit jacket. “I’ll call a mandatory school assembly with parents in attendance,” he said. “And we’ll make sure it’s live on the school’s site as well, for those who can’t make it, and for our sister schools that you’ve harmed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Your definition of harmed and mine are drastically different.” Yes, guilt bit my insides over what had happened to Tessa, but I never set out to hurt anyone. And through return commenters and emails, I knew I had helped some people. “There are sites that would make you piss your pants,” I whisper-hissed. “Sites run by kids with lists and agendas and hate in their hearts.” Tears pricked my eyes I was so mad. “And you’re upset about this? A little information on something as natural as sex?” I shook my head.
“We’re done here,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Right.” I turned my back on him.
Mom wrapped an arm around me as we left the building. “You don’t have to do this,” she said as we got in the car.
“We can find a way to get you to graduate. And I can speak with someone in admissions at MIT,” Dad said, pulling out of the school parking lot.
“No,” I said. “This is something I have to do.” I leaned my head against the window as we drove. I hoped my acceptance letter came next week regardless, but even if it didn’t…even if I somehow didn’t get into my dream school, I knew it was all worth it. Those few souls I’d helped feel not so alone? That was worth all of this…agony.
…
I honestly don’t know what spurred me to check the site’s email the morning before the assembly, but I was beyond glad I did.
The relief at Tessa’s email was so fast and needed it almost hurt. The sensation storming me like a whirlwind.
It didn’t change the fact that I was an hour away from going on stage at Wilmont and confessing my role in Ask Me Anything, but my heart…it felt full for the first time in two days.
The shards and cuts from Dean were still there, but this gave me hope. After the assembly, I would seek out Tessa. Talk to her. Let her know I’d be there for her in whatever way I could.
First, I had to survive the assembly.
And pray that no one would be outraged enough to take action against me.
I still had two months to survive here before I graduated.
The thought sent shivers down my spine.
Thirty minutes later, my parents filed into the massive seminar room in Wilmont while I sat and waited in the small office attached to it. My knee bounced, the chatter of practically the entire school and their parents vibrating through the closed door.
“Amber.” Ms. Howard’s voice drew my attention away from the palms of my hands. She closed the door behind her, and sank down to my level to meet my eyes. “What is going on?” she asked. “Tanner hasn’t told me, the students, or the board anything.”
“The board is here, then?” My voice was a whisper, my nerves killing any strength I had.
“Yes. Tanner demanded it.”
I nodded, interlocking my fingers to keep them from shaking. He probably thought my admission would be enough to shock them into allowing him to continue as principal. He’d found me, after all, and was holding me accountable. Scrubbing out the dark stain in his perfect, pristine school.
“Amber,” she said. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
“I’m beyond help,” I said. “But thank you for the gesture. It means a lot.”
“I refuse to believe that,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on and I’ll find a way to help you.”
I sighed. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything. Everyone in a fifty-mile radius was about to learn the truth, anyway. I opened my mouth, the story tumbling from my lips easier than I imagined. And when I was done, my over-firing nerves had ebbed to a low buzzing.
Ms. Howard pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smile. “You’re so damn brave.”
“What?”
“You are. I can’t believe you’re about to go out there and face this. I admire you so much.”
My cheeks flushed.
“How did he find out?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “I thought you were way too good for him to catch you.”
“I am,” I said. I’d left Dean out of the story. Probably because it wasn’t relevant, but more so because it hurt to think about him. About how much I missed him despite what he’d said. What he’d done.
“Then how…” A gasp cut her off, something clicking in her eyes. “That’s what he was using Dean for.” She ground her teeth.
“You saw him?”
She nodded. “I wanted to get him out of it, but Tanner had something over him. Dean wouldn’t tell me, but whatever it was, it was huge.”
I chewed on my bottom lip.
“I was sure he’d told you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is he out there? I can go get him. Escort him back here.”
“No,” I said too quickly. “He’s at the TOC.” I’d known the date for months. And despite everything, I hoped he won. Hoped he slayed it and earned the recognition he’d been working for all year. Hoped his MIT letter was on its way. He deserved that regardless. “It’s fine. I’m ready to get this over with.”
She patted my leg, standing with me. “I will meet with the board after this is over. Talk to them. See if I can testify to your character and dispute Tanner’s over-exaggerated allegations.”
“Thanks, Ms. Howard,” I said, eyeing the door behind her as it opened and Tanner came inside. “But don’t. You have to stay here. I’ll be gone in two months.”
“Ms. Howard,” Tanner said, holding the door open for her. “It’s past time for you to take your seat. I’ve reserved you one next to me and the board.”
She
nodded, glaring at him as she passed him.
I didn’t envy her position—his second in command. I couldn’t imagine how difficult that day-to-day must be. It was amazing she hadn’t quit.
Tanner folded his arms behind his back after he’d shut the door. “Five minutes. Are you prepared?” He scanned my empty hands like I should be holding a stack of note cards with a meticulously crafted speech.
I tipped my chin, not wanting him to see the fear swirling inside me. “Can I ask you a question?”
He smirked. “It’s too late to talk your way out of this.”
“I’m not trying to,” I said. “I’m curious.”
“About?”
“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“Excuse me?”
I raised my eyebrows, knowing he’d heard me.
“Hardly relevant—”
“It’s an easy question. Was it always to be the principal of a school? Because your dad was? And your grandpa?”
“Yes. Wilmont has always been my birthright.” He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Though, at your age I wanted to be president,” he said. “Or a senator.”
I huffed, wondering how he’d lost the aspirations and knowing he’d be horrible at democracy. Not with the way he ran this school—like a tyrant.
“It’s not too late,” he said. “I could run for mayor. Governor. But Wilmont is too important to me.”
“Right,” I said. “The power you wield here, it means something. Out there?” I jerked my head to indicate the real world outside the school. “Wouldn’t be nearly as much.”
He stiffened, narrowing his gaze. “I’ve prepared a slew of visual evidence to go along with whatever admission of guilt you have prepared,” he said. “It will be as jarring on the projector screens as—”
“As your abstinence video was?” I cut him off, no longer caring about formalities. He was going for the hurt, and I was beyond over it.
“…as on a small screen,” he continued like I hadn’t spoken. He yanked the door open, his arm extended for me to lead the way. “And don’t you worry,” he said, stopping me when I hit the entryway. “Your boyfriend already paid his little sister’s debt for that stunt she pulled at the assembly.”