“Promise?” he asked.
I nodded.
We locked lips for a quickie, then he went back to class.
My sandals slapped along the floor, the sound echoing in the deserted halls. I knew Principal Flynn wanted to talk to me about the graffiti on the wall. What I didn’t know was who the guilty party was. I’d taken a different route to the admin wing. I didn’t want to see that wall again. But when I rounded the corner, I also didn’t expect or want to see my mom sitting in a chair just inside the admin office, reading something on her phone. I gulped down air. Nothing to be afraid of. You’re innocent. Even so, I had work to do to convince my mom I didn’t do anything wrong. After all, she knew I loved to tag, and she knew my signature.
The admin wing was an open floor plan of cubicles that sat in the middle with offices surrounding them on two sides. A counter headlined the wing with a sitting area for guests on the left and mailboxes on the right for teachers.
Mom lifted her gaze when I entered. I couldn’t tell if she was surprised, angry, or indifferent. I nodded to Ms. Jones, one of the admin assistants, who was depositing mail into the teacher’s slots.
She returned the gesture with a flick of her black hair. “Mr. Flynn will be with you in a moment.” Then she resumed her task.
“Do you want to tell me what I’m doing here?” Mom asked in a low and hard tone. “Because I saw something on the wall on my way in here.”
“That wasn’t me,” I said.
“That is your signature,” she returned with her mean-mom face.
Before I had a chance to say another word, Principal Flynn stalked out of his corner office. He was a hard man to miss since he stood about six eight with his large belly poking out.
I tried to read his stony expression, but I was coming up empty.
My mom rose, securing her purse on her shoulder before she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I swear, Montana.”
I was swearing under my breath.
Principal Flynn fixated on my mom. I almost rolled my eyes. She had an effect on men that always made them do double takes. She was beautiful, but I didn’t care to witness men drooling over her.
She smoothed a hand down her crisp black knee-length skirt.
Maybe the principal was into her long, tanned legs, or maybe he was into boobs. Like me, Mom certainly had a rack on her.
Principal Flynn extended his hand. “Mrs. Smith, I presume.”
I had the urge to snap my fingers as if to say, “I’m over here.”
“Please, call me Georgia,” Mom said, not correcting him that she was a Ms. and not a Mrs.
Small talk between them ensued as we followed the principal into his office. I tuned them out as I texted Train that I was going into the principal’s office now.
Principal Flynn waved his hand at the two chairs in front of his glass-topped desk. The office was rather cozy with bookcases, filing cabinets, and plants giving life to the room.
He folded his bulk into his chair as he combed a hand over his dark hair. “I called you both in because it has come to my attention, Montana, that you could be responsible for the graffiti on the boys’ locker room door and also the recent artwork on the wall down the hall from the admin offices.”
I straightened. “I already told you, sir. I didn’t tag the locker room door.”
Mom crossed one leg over the other and began wiggling her foot back and forth. She’d always had that tell when she was stewing or thinking.
He leaned his elbows on his desk. “Are you sure? Because graffiti can warrant legal action.”
Mom whipped her head my way. “Tell him the truth.”
I wasn’t too surprised that my mom didn’t believe me, given my past history with graffiti and considering my signature was plastered on the wall. So I had to find a way to prove I wasn’t the guilty one.
I ground my teeth. “I didn’t tag the school. I—”
“Then how do you explain this?” Principal Flynn opened a desk drawer and produced a green paint can.
Well, there was the green paint can I’d lost, or more like left on the floor outside the boys’ locker room, although he couldn’t prove the can was mine.
“Is that yours?” Mom asked, her foot jerking faster than before.
The air conditioner was blowing from a vent overhead. Yet the cool air did nothing to dry the sweat beading up on my forehead.
Principal Flynn handed the paint can to my mom. “According to the name on the can, I would say it is Montana’s.”
Holy shit. I never put my name on my art supplies.
“Montana,” Mom said. “Start talking.”
Principal Flynn sat back in his chair, interlacing his fingers and resting them on his belly. “Let’s start with the locker room door.”
I cleared the lump in my throat. “Fine.” I had to at least tell the truth to try to clear my name, even if the truth did make me appear culpable. My mom had once dated a lawyer who threw the word culpable around in conversations he’d had with my mom. “The night of the first football game of the season, I wanted to tag the locker room door. I had my paint cans ready, but then I backed out. Mainly because of you, Mom. I promised you. And my reasons to tag weren’t worth me getting into trouble. I also heard something in the hall that night, and I got spooked and ran. I left that paint can, or at least my paint can, on the floor. But I promise, I didn’t do it. As far as the wall, that wasn’t me. Whoever did the recent drawing was sloppy.” I’d never seen the picture on the door. “I’m not sloppy. Besides, I was with Train all weekend.”
“Mr. Flynn,” Mom said. “Are the school doors open on the weekend?”
“They usually aren’t, but the cafeteria staff was scheduled to come in yesterday to stock supplies. Aside from that, the janitor unlocks the doors at six in the morning on school days.”
“I was with Train all day yesterday and in bed at six this morning,” I said. “Someone is setting me up.”
“Who?” Principal Flynn asked.
“I don’t know. Nina Morris, maybe.” I didn’t add Ferris’s name. I wasn’t sure if he would have been so catty as to ruin his valedictorian status because I didn’t want him as my tutor anymore. But I made a mental note to talk to him, especially considering Nina had been chummy with him.
Principal Flynn wrote her name down. “Why do you think Nina did this?”
“Because she’s threatened me. She’s Train’s ex-girlfriend, and she doesn’t like that I’m dating Train.”
“Should I be worried about this Nina girl?” Mom asked Principal Flynn.
He steepled his fingers. “Nina has always been an exemplary student with a clean record.” He picked up his desk phone. “Ms. Jones, please find Nina Morris and have her report to my office.” He clicked off. “I will get to the bottom of this. I hope, Montana, you’re telling the truth.”
“Mr. Flynn, Montana has an alibi for the entire weekend. When she wasn’t home, she was either working or with her friends.”
“You believe me?” I asked Mom.
“We’ll talk later.” She didn’t give me a warm and fuzzy.
“Can I go back to class?”
Principal Flynn nodded. “We’ll talk soon.”
Yippee. I was hanging by a thread from getting expelled. I swore I would find out who was setting me up and clear my name.
My mom rose. “Montana, walk me to my car.”
“Sir,” I said. “How did you get the paint can?”
He smoothed out his tie. “Someone left it on the floor outside the admin office. We found it when we came in this morning.”
Mom and Principal Flynn exchanged a handshake and said their good-byes.
I texted Train. Almost done.
He responded, Meet me down on the football field.
“Thanks for your time,” my mom said.
Principal Flynn beamed at Mom. “It was nice to meet you.”
Then we sped past the painted wall and out the doors to her car.
A lawnmower whirred somewhere nearby.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the locker room door?” she asked with her car keys in her hand.
“You wouldn’t have believed me. When you found my paint can, you assumed I’d tagged. So what was the point? I’m not even sure Principal Flynn believes me.”
“This has your name written all over it,” she said.
“I know. And I’ll get to the bottom of who did it.” I just didn’t know how yet.
She grabbed the bridge of her nose. “You can’t afford to get expelled.”
“Mom, I’m not taking the blame for something I didn’t do.”
“Tell me about Nina’s threat.”
I kissed her quickly on the cheek. “I will later. I need to get to class.”
I left Mom and wound around the school, down to the football field. Computer class should have been ending at any moment. I sat on the top row of the bleachers, enjoying the morning sun and thinking. I had a study period next, so I was free, but Train had calculus. I wasn’t in any of his other classes since he was taking all advanced subjects.
He jogged up with concern swimming in his eyes. “What happened?”
“Don’t you have calculus next?”
He sat down beside me. “Don’t worry about me. I’m getting straight As, anyway.”
If it weren’t for the eagerness on his face, wanting to know what had gone down, I would’ve teased him about his good grades.
“Remember I told you I lost a paint can? Well, it showed up in Principal Flynn’s office with my name on it. I don’t think the principal believes I tagged the wall, but he’s not convinced I didn’t tag the locker room door. I gave him Nina’s name. He called her down to his office, but I didn’t see her when my mom and I left.”
“He called your mom in? Wow. Did you give him Ferris’s name?”
“No. I truly believe it was Nina. Ferris might be mad at me, but he doesn’t strike me as a guy who is that catty, especially when it could ruin his valedictorian status.”
“If Nina painted the wall, how did she know what your signature looked like?”
I puffed out my cheeks. He brought up a good point. “Nina was chummy with Ferris. So maybe he told her. I plan to talk to Ferris.”
“Not without me,” he said.
I was cool with that. “But don’t break his bones. You have a scholarship to worry about.”
“Someone cares,” he said in a sugary tone.
I cared what happened to him… maybe more than cared.
Chapter Twenty-Two
TRAIN
I walked out of school with Austin.
“Dude,” Austin said. “I think I should be there when you talk to Ferris so you don’t end up in the back of a police cruiser. “Seriously, we have two games left. Coach will have a fucking coronary if you get caught. You won’t play in the game on Friday. And your old man will have your balls on a platter.”
At lunch, I’d filled him in on everything that had happened with Montana that morning. “Someone is fucking with Montana, which means they’re fucking with me. Nina isn’t going to confess that she vandalized school property even if she did. And Ferris isn’t, either. All evidence points to Montana.”
We dodged kids hurrying to their cars.
“You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?” he asked.
I released a breath. There wasn’t any reason to deny it. I had fought with every fiber in me not to date girls this year. But Montana wasn’t just any girl. “Yeah. I guess I have.” Confiding in my best friend felt as though a weight had been lifted.
He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Does she know?”
Austin and I stopped at a shade tree, the same one I’d found Montana at that morning. She and I had agreed to meet in the same spot. I scanned the area. No Montana.
“Well?” he probed.
“Not yet. And only because I’m a little afraid. She’s got the full package. She’s loyal, caring, feisty, sweet, sexy, and when I’m not with her, I feel lost. But please don’t tell Reagan. I want Montana to hear it from me.”
“My lips are sealed, dude. You know I wouldn’t share that info with anyone unless you wanted me to. So when do you plan on telling her?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” I didn’t know if there was ever a right time.
“You know what I think? You should tell her at the debutante ball. Girls love to hear how you feel when the soft music is playing and you’re slow dancing with them.”
I busted out laughing. “Since when did you become the love guru? Oh wait. That’s when you’re planning on telling Reagan.”
He looked away. “Back to Ferris.”
“Man, don’t get all shy on me.” I thought I would have been the one to fight my feelings.
He swung his brown gaze my way. “I’m busted. Okay.”
At that moment, I spotted Montana and grinned.
She tucked her hair behind her ear as she bounced up.
“You look happy,” Austin said to Montana. “Is it because of this dude?” Austin pointed at me.
“Maybe,” she teased as she batted her lashes.
I loved the shy, flirty vibe she was giving off.
“Okay, man,” Austin said to me. “I’ll cover for you with Coach. Don’t be long. And definitely don’t ruin those hands. Remember, we have two more games.” He darted off.
“He’s right,” Montana said. “Don’t hurt Ferris.”
I was about to respond, when Ferris stalked out, his black spiked hair glistening in the sunlight. “You wanted to talk. So talk.” His tone was a little too sharp for my taste.
I fisted my right hand. “Don’t be a prick. Montana asked you to talk. You said yes. So don’t make it sound like we’re forcing you.”
He held up his hands. “I have to work tonight. Let’s get this over with.”
“Tell me the truth about your friendship with Nina,” Montana said. “Are you tutoring her? Or are you spying for her?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ferris said.
Montana jutted out her chin. “Let me be frank. You’re the only person other than Train who knew of my artwork. You know, the one the school’s been talking about today. The one that someone painted on the wall near the admin wing. Did you give her my artwork? Or were you the one to vandalize school property?”
He studied Montana. “I did no such thing. And how would I give her your artwork unless I stole your notebook?”
Montana’s blue eyes grew as big as the sun.
“Ferris, you better not be lying,” I said calmly even though he’d had guilt written all over him when Principal Flynn had confronted Montana that day outside the library.
Lines dented his high forehead. “Or what? You’re going to break my collarbone? Try it. I’ll press charges. Then you won’t play for USC.”
Motherfucker. I got nose to nose with Ferris. His breath smelled of onions. “Are you goading me?”
He didn’t back down. “Stating a fact, fucker.”
Montana gripped the arm I was ready to swing. “Train, don’t. He isn’t worth the hassle or your scholarship.” Her light and airy voice penetrated the side of my brain that said she was right. But the urge to break his large nose was tempting.
Montana then pushed Ferris. “Get out of here. And if I find out you’re lying, I’ll let Principal Flynn know that you’re an accomplice, which should bring into question your run for valedictorian.”
Ferris rolled his eyes as he marched off without a word.
Sweat dripped down my face. “He’s lying.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But let things settle for a day or so. I have to get to work, anyway.” She seemed too calm for someone whose reputation was on the line and who was in danger of getting expelled.
“Why aren’t you freaking out like you were this morning?”
She peered up at me. “Because Elvira told me that whoever is behind the tagging or trying to set me up will make a mistake. They always do. But
right now, Principal Flynn isn’t expelling me, which means that will only make the guilty person try again. And I firmly believe that person is Nina.”
Part of me agreed, and the other half of me said Ferris was the asshole causing trouble. “Then we should confront her too.”
“No,” Montana said emphatically. “We wait and see what she does next. She’s cunning. You should know that.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “I do. But I want all this to be over with. I’m tired of her making idle threats. I’m tired of watching my back around every corner. But most of all, it pisses me the fuck off that you’re involved and taking the heat for something you didn’t do.”
My phone rang. I released Montana and checked the screen. Austin’s text was in all caps. GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE NOW.
I showed Montana.
“Go,” she said.
After a quick kiss, I sprinted down to the locker room. I didn’t want to leave Montana, but she and Austin were right. I couldn’t fuck up football, but I had to help Montana clear her name even if that meant confronting Nina.
Chapter Twenty-Three
MONTANA
After dropping off my college applications to the guidance counselor, Ms. Shepard, I headed down to the football field. Mom and I had filled out the college paperwork the night before. We had also talked more about Nina and how I believed she was the person setting me up. Mom had said something similar to what Elvira had. It wasn’t if Nina would get caught; it was when. I was hanging on that cliché, but I also had to work more on Ferris. I would bet my life that he knew something. Maybe if I confronted him without Train, he would be more open with me.
Speaking of my swoon-worthy boyfriend, he and I had spoken right before I went to bed. We’d chatted more about college than about Nina, Ferris, or what had happened that day. He was stoked that I’d applied to USC’s art program.
I thought it would be cool to attend the same college as my boyfriend. I giggled at the word “boyfriend.” Nikko had been the last steady guy I’d dated, and that was over two years ago. But I was high on Train. My heart was on board too, although at the moment, I was worried.
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