She got up from her desk and walked to the row next to mine. She sat two chairs up from me in that row.
“Maya, you’re way smarter than this. I know this show is very important to you, but I can’t allow you to skate through my class when your peers are working twice, sometimes three times as hard as you,” she said.
“But an F, Mrs. Watson?” Maybe I could appeal to her soft side (although I didn’t even know if she had one).
She turned up her lips. “Well, to be honest, if there was something less than an F that I could have given you, I would have.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“Yes, if I could’ve given you a complete zero, or something less, I would have,” she said.
Ouch!
I instantly wished I had shuffled out of the class right along with everyone else. I didn’t need to sit and be ripped by my teacher. I needed to try and think about what dress I’d wear, or whether I’d meet my hair stylist and makeup artist at my house or at the event.
“I tried my hardest on this paper,” I said, channeling my inner actress. “I gave this paper everything I had. That’s why I’m so stunned at my grade.” My chest heaved and I made myself cry (which wasn’t all that hard because the thought of not graduating was enough to make me burst out into tears). But my theatrics, which normally worked on my parents, weren’t moving Mrs. Watson.
“You’re not being truthful, Maya,” she said, pointedly.
“Well, I thought I had done what I was supposed to. I mean, if you’ve done one paper . . .”
She stopped me before I could continue. “Maya, you didn’t even do a spell check. Your own name was misspelled. There were sloppy errors any Microsoft program would’ve caught.” Mrs. Watson shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. You can’t make me believe that you tried one bit. I felt like this paper was a complete afterthought for you, like the deadline snuck up on you and you rushed and slapped something together. This was completely unacceptable,” she said.
I decided I couldn’t win. I’d let her finish making her point and get in the jabs she wanted, then I’d be free to go. Mrs. Watson and everyone else would see a different side of me once I became super famous. Graduation wasn’t that far off anyway so I only needed to indulge her for a few more months and I’d be on my way to bigger and better things.
I glanced back down at the big fat red F that was circled on my paper and swallowed back tears.
“Maya, your diploma is on the line here,” she said. “I know you have your job and all, but how would it look if you’re on TV, repeating the twelfth grade this time next year?”
My eyes widened. Would she seriously keep me from graduating?
“W-what can I do?” I so hated groveling, but since it was no one in the room but us, I would make an exception. “I can’t fail this class.” A part of me wanted to bribe her. Shoot, I heard teachers make like five dollars an hour. Surely, she could use some extra money. But Mrs. Watson’s mean behind seemed like a bribe wouldn’t do anything but make her madder, so I kept my mouth closed and waited on her to answer.
She hesitated, thinking. For a minute, I didn’t think she was going to give me a chance, but finally, she said, “I’m not sure, but maybe if you start coming in after school immediately you can make up enough to fix your grade and make it across the stage.”
I was just about to ask her whether we could start after the red-carpet event, but she quickly added, “The choice is yours.”
Mrs. Watson got up and walked back to her desk, where she grabbed her purse and left the room. And based on the look on her face, I knew I really didn’t have a choice at all.
Chapter 24
My life should really not be this difficult. I mean, I’m sure Beyoncé doesn’t have this kind of drama from her parents.
So, I couldn’t understand why I was standing here getting grilled by my mom. Dang, my dad had gotten all on my case just a few days ago. Now here I was again. I wish my parents could’ve gotten together, made some notes, and done all of this at one time. But since my mom was standing there with her lips all scrunched up and her arms folded across her chest, this was not the time to let her know I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.
“Maya, what in the world is this?” my mom said, pointing to the computer screen. I leaned in and peered over her shoulder.
“I . . . I—I don’t know,” I stammered once I saw what had her so upset. I was cold-busted and couldn’t think up a lie fast enough.
She turned around and glared at me. “You know what it is. Your history teacher said you didn’t turn in your last two homework assignments, one of which was a major part of your grade. First, you get suspended from school, now this? What in the world is going on?”
I was tired. I’d had enough grief from Mrs. Watson. Juggling the show, school, and staying fabulous was taking its toll, and I just didn’t have the energy to come up with another story. I decided to come clean. “Mom, I just need to do a little catching up at school. It’s no need to trip. I’ve been busy. The show has me swamped.”
My mother narrowed her eyes at me and looked sternly my way.
“Now, when you said you were taking this job on, you said you could balance it with your schoolwork.”
“And I can,” I protested.
“Not according to this you can’t!” She tapped the screen.“Not when you’re not turning in your homework.”
And failing English, I thought. “Awww, Mom.” I so wanted to cut this conversation short and go crawl straight into bed. I’d been shooting promos all day, then I’d had to make a public appearance at a celebrity event and I was just exhausted.
“Don’t ‘awww, Mom’ me. I have enough to deal with without having to worry about whether you’re doing your schoolwork or not,” she exclaimed. Of course she would make this about her. My mom acted like the sun rose and set around her. And exactly what did she have to deal with? Tennis? The spa? Brunch with friends? Junior League?
She must’ve finally noticed my appearance because she added, “And what in the world is all that on your face?”
“It’s called makeup,” I groaned.
She snatched a Kleenex out of the box on the counter and dabbed at my lips. “Wipe some of that makeup off, and who do you think you’re getting smart with?”
I ducked my head out of her way. “I’m not getting smart. You asked me a question. We have to wear this for TV.” I wished there was a button I could push to make myself disappear. Better yet, make my mom disappear.
My mom tossed the tissue in the trash, then rolled her eyes as she shut down her laptop. “I can see now that this job is going to be a problem.”
“No, it’s not, Mom.” The last thing I wanted was getting her riled up so I just agreed. “Okay, okay. I promise I’m going to buckle down at school.” The station wanted to send me to the MTV Awards next month in Los Angeles, so the last thing I wanted was my mom tripping and telling me I couldn’t go because of some stupid grades.
“Get it together, Maya,” she warned as I made my way out of the kitchen.
I blew a frustrated breath and started heading up the stairs to my room before she found something else to gripe about. My cell phone rang just as I plopped down on my bed. I almost didn’t answer it because the phone number came up as blocked, but I knew every time Tamara called me from her office the number came up blocked. It was probably her checking on me, so I decided to answer.
“Hello,” I said.
“Maya, don’t hang up,” Bryce quickly said.
I groaned at the sound of his voice. He’d been blowing up my phone, sending me text messages apologizing and swearing over and over that he hadn’t had anything to do with sending out my picture.
“What do you want, Bryce?” I asked. I don’t know why I didn’t just hang up. I guess a part of me wanted to understand how he could do something like that with my pictures. I needed to know if he really hated me that much. Not that I cared, but if so, it meant that he’d never really cared for me i
n the first place. I had really been feeling Bryce when we were together. I guess you could say even though I’d played hard to get, he was my first love. So for him to go there really hurt.
“Why are you bothering me anyway?” I continued. “Does your girlfriend know you’re calling me?”
“Sheridan is not my girlfriend,” he protested. “We’re just . . .”
“Are you going to the homecoming dance with her or not?” I asked, cutting him off. I noticed a picture the two of us had taken last month in one of those cheesy mall photo booths. We were acting silly, something I rarely did. But Bryce brought out the fun side of me. I’d loved just letting my hair down with him.
I stood, walked over to the picture, snatched if off the mirror, then dropped it in the trash.
“Well, yes, but it’s because—”
“Then, whatever, Bryce. Save it.” I fell back across my bed.
He sounded panicked. “No, I’m trying to tell you, yeah, Sheridan and I are kickin’ it, and she’s cool and all, but I don’t love her like I love you.”
Those words made me sit straight up in my bed. In our entire three months together, Bryce had never uttered those words to me.
“Love me? Since when?”
“Since I lost you,” he said softly.
I wanted to tell him that he hadn’t lost me, he’d dumped me but since those words would never, ever leave my mouth, I remained quiet.
“I’m just saying, I miss you, boo.”
I felt myself getting sucked in by his words, so I quickly shook myself out of my trance. “Bryce, miss me with that foolishness because I’m not even buying it. You’re the only person I sent that picture to so you had to have sent it to everybody.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I would never do anything like that. I mean, I’m happy for your success. I wouldn’t try to mess you up like that. If anything, I wish I could be a part of all your success.”
You could have been, I wanted to say. Now, he had a better chance of getting with Beyoncé.
“All I’m saying is, I don’t want you believing I would do something like that,” he continued.
The strange part is that had been what didn’t make sense about all of this. Sending that picture was just not Bryce’s character. But still, if he hadn’t done it, who had?
I decided to ask. “Then how did the picture get out if you didn’t send it, Bryce?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been racking my brain thinking about it,” he replied. “It’s on my phone, but you know I keep my phone with me at all times.” He paused like he was recalling something. “Except . . .”
“Except what?”
“Except the other day when Sheridan was over my house and my mom called me outside to help her bring the groceries in,” he slowly began. “I left my phone sitting on the coffee table.” He sounded like he was thinking. “When I came back, I was a little shocked because the light on the phone was on. Sheridan told me it had rung, only I didn’t see a missed call.”
“So you just left it alone and took her word for it, huh?”
“Nah, my mom was trippin’ and I was distracted. That had to have been what happened. Sheridan had to have seen the picture and sent it to herself when I was dealing with my mom.”
“How convenient. Your girlfriend is the one who sent the picture out, not you,” I said, my voice filled with sarcasm. “Yeah, right.” But even as I was shooting his explanation down, my gut told me that Bryce was right on the money. Sending that picture to everyone was a Sheridan move if I had ever seen one. But still, I wasn’t cutting Bryce any slack.
“Not that I believe you. But if I did, it doesn’t matter anyway. You and Sheridan are both losers. So lose my number,” I said, pressing the button to end the call.
Sheridan Matthews. She was the one behind this! “You conniving little wench,” I mumbled. Bryce was a lot of things, but he was never dirty like that. But that was classic Sheridan.
I picked up the phone and punched in her number. I hadn’t called her since I’d started working at Rumor Central, but I needed to give her a piece of my mind. Her phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Somebody must’ve stolen this phone because I know Maya Morgan isn’t calling me,” she answered with an attitude.
“No, only one person is in the phone-stealing business,” I replied.
“What do you want?” she said like I was truly bothering her.
“You think you’re slick,” I began. I was so angry that I began pacing back and forth across the room. “I know it was you that sent out that picture of me on Bryce’s phone.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” she replied innocently. “Ooooh, you mean the Playboy bunny photo that you sent my boyfriend.”
I bit down on my teeth to keep from going off. “He was my boyfriend when I sent it. And if he’s your man now, why was he telling me how much he loves me five minutes ago?” I couldn’t help but throw that in. “Maybe if you go stuff some tissue in your bra, you can take some pictures Bryce will want to carry around.” I knew that would cut her since she was so self-conscious about her small breasts.
“Screw you, Maya! You’re the only slut that takes dirty pictures,” Sheridan screamed.
I debated going there with her, but I wasn’t about to engage her. I just had a warning for her.
“Karma is no joke, Sheridan.”
“Am I supposed to be scared?” she replied, calming down. “Yeah, you might have some dirt on me, but just remember, any dirt I did, you were right there with me as I was doing it.”
She was so right about that. There were a few things about Sheridan I’d considered revealing, but I’d nixed each one of those ideas because that would’ve been incriminating myself as well.
“Don’t even play me,” Sheridan said. “You have nothing on me. And if I did send the little funky slutty picture, you need to be thankful that’s all I did. With everything I know about you, I could make it where Bryce thinks you’re the biggest whore in the whole state of Florida.”
I was just about to reply when she added, “Don’t call me again,” before hanging the phone up in my face.
“Ugh!” I screamed, as I hurled my phone across the room. I was livid.
Sheridan Matthews didn’t know who she was messing with. But I was definitely about to show her!
Chapter 25
Mrs. Watson was going to blow a gasket. I’d begged her to let me do the makeup work. Now, here I was about to miss yet another class. But I didn’t have any choice. Tamara wanted me at the TV station to do another promo shoot. I knew I had to get it together because the last thing I needed was to mess up graduation behind this show. That’s why I was speeding toward campus. It was just 11:45, so I could still go in to Mrs. Watson and plead my case.
I guided my BMW onto my school’s street and immediately slowed at the sight of the cop cars lined up out front. We very seldom had any drama at Miami High. Not because there wasn’t any drama, but because most of the kids’ parents bailed them out of everything before any real drama jumped off. So it was a shock to see all the police officers.
“What’s going on?” I asked after I had parked and made my way through the parking lot. The group of people I asked gave me the most hateful looks and didn’t reply. “What?” I said to one of the girls.
Just then, I saw what the officers were doing as they carted out Amanda, Sabrina, and Blake. My mouth fell open. Amanda saw me and immediately tried to break free from the police officers.
“I’m gonna kill you!” she screamed as they pulled her back. “I can’t believe you did that, you snitch.”
“Shut up, Amanda,” Blake barked. “Don’t say a word!” He shot me a look of pure evil, letting me know that he hated me just as much. Even though he’d stopped Amanda from attacking, the look on Blake’s face said he’d give good money to let her have her way with me.
Okay, this was getting totally out of control. I was just trying to get ratings. I wasn’t trying to get anyo
ne arrested.
Before I could say anything, I spotted one of the few classmates that didn’t have a beef with me. “Sandy, what’s going on?”
“What does it look like? The Bling Ring got busted,” she replied, shaking her head as she watched them push Blake into the car.
“Yeah, they got arrested, thanks to you,” one of Sandy’s friends said. “And they want to call me lame? At least I’m not a snitch,” she said, before walking off.
“Don’t pay her any attention,” Sandy said. “But if I were you, I’d kinda lay low for a minute, because you’re not exactly well liked right about now.”
The way everyone was looking at me, I knew Sandy was telling the truth.
“I don’t understand what everyone is mad at me for.”
Sandy cut her eyes at me.
“You, too?”
“Naw, I understand. You’re just doing your job. But brace yourself.” She motioned up the sidewalk. “Here comes Mr. Carvin.”
The principal stomped toward me and stopped right in front of me. “I need to see you in my office right now, young lady,” he said firmly.
Part of me wanted to resist and tell him I wasn’t going anywhere without my attorney, my parents, Tamara, or somebody. But the look in his eyes told me it wasn’t up for discussion.
I followed him back into the office. He slammed the door and spun on me. “Do you have any idea the damage you are doing to this school’s reputation?”
“By what? Reporting the news? I mean, you were all behind me when I was making you look good, and getting the school all kinds of publicity.”
He took a deep breath like he was trying to weigh his words. “Holding a school concert is quite different from that gossip garbage you’re spewing on television.”
“No disrespect, but are you mad because they’re doing it or because they were busted?” I asked. He was making me sick, trying to act all self-righteous.
He stood up straight like he was offended. “Of course I don’t condone bad behavior, but when you shine a negative light on this school, I have to be concerned. And since you took on that show, that’s all you’ve been doing.”
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