Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,61
father?”
“What were you doing with Roy Taylor’s stepson?”
“Do you plan to make things right with Ryde?”
“Ignore it,” Headmaster Bradford said, taking one of my elbows. Our gym teacher took my other side, while Mr. Davis walked with Jordan.
“Keep your head down,” Headmaster Bradford ordered.
I followed his directions and walked quickly with them into the school.
Once we were inside the doors, everyone in the hallway was staring at us. But at least they were smart enough not to try anything with the headmaster around. Headmaster Bradford raised his voice and said, “Back to business, students.” Then he turned to Jordan and me. “Jordan, you may go to your first-hour class. Zara, come with me.”
The stern way he said the last part made my throat tighten. An impossible, terrifying thought came to my mind. Had my father retracted his tuition payments? Was I still a student at Emerson Academy?
Headmaster Bradford walked beside me to his office, staring down everyone who gaped at us—or rather, me.
Thank god we had a dress code, because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing everyone wearing those shirts staring back at me. Then again, Merritt and her crew practically ruled the world. I wouldn’t put it past her to have the dress code changed.
We walked into Headmaster Bradford’s office, and I took it in. Mrs. Bardot sat in one of the two leather seats facing an ornate wooden desk. There were art pieces on the olive-green walls, along with multiple diplomas.
He moved behind his desk, sat down, and folded his hands together. “Sit, Zara.”
I stared between him and Mrs. Bardot, terrified of what was to come next. Was this the last I’d see of the Academy, the only school I’d known since kindergarten?
“Sit,” he said again, more forcefully this time.
Though each movement felt like my muscles were made of stone, I forced myself to sit in the chair, but my words came easily. “I’m out, aren’t I?”
“Out?” For the first time in my life, I saw Headmaster Bradford look confused.
“My dad canceled my tuition payments. I need to leave.”
He cleared his throat and tried to hide the displeasure that was obvious on his face. “We have a no-refund policy at Emerson Academy, and I refuse to threaten a student’s educational future based on a familial disagreement.”
Relief like I never felt before flooded through me, and I sagged in my chair. I had no idea how much finishing school really mattered to me until the opportunity had almost been taken away.
“However,” Headmaster Bradford continued, “we are not keen to handling things of this nature. You are being put on academic probation, and we expect you to keep your grades high and behave as an Emerson lady should in the seven weeks left until graduation. Can you do that?”
I nodded quickly. “Trust me, none of this was in my plans.”
“The riding on the back of some boy’s motorcycle part?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Mrs. Bardot jumped in.
“Of course it wasn't.” She gave Headmaster Bradford a look like he’d been too hard on me, then turned back to face me. Her wormy apple earrings were like a slap in the face to Headmaster Bradford's tailored suit and imposing office.
She gave me a sympathetic smile, which seemed honest enough, and then said, “Zara, please let me know if there is anything I can do to help during this time. We've all been watching the news, and of course we are not sure how much is true, but if you need a place to stay, help filling out college applications, if that's in your plan, or anything else, please let me know.”
My first instinct was to say no. I didn't like relying on people, and I certainly didn't like placing my trust in people who wore rotten fruit as accessories on purpose. But at this point, I needed to get a plan together and fast.
“Let me think about it,” I said.
She smiled like she’d already won. Maybe she had. “Let’s meet in my office today after school. It will be a great way to avoid some of the press. I’ll see you then.”
As Headmaster Bradford excused me from his office, I knew the torment was far from done.
Thirty-Eight
Even though the first bell had rung, there were a few students left in the hallway. All of them stared at me. If the world’s most serious hall monitor, Pixie Adler, hadn’t been there, I bet it would have been worse than it was.