Keating says, clearing her throat. Vic chuckles and releases me, glancing over at the vice principal in her black skirt suit. “Do we all have classes we should be attending?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Vic says, sliding his inked fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I was just giving my girl a see you later kiss.”
“Right,” Ms. Keating says, giving me a sideways look. “Off you go, all of you.”
We all scatter our separate ways, but as I'm reaching for the door to the gym, Ms. Keating stops me.
“Bernadette, do you have a moment?” she asks, and I shrug. I'd rather get an excused absence from P.E. than have to stand around and pretend like I give a fuck about volleyball. I follow the vice principal into her neat, tidy little office. The walls are covered with inspirational posters that say things like Shoot for the Moon—If You Miss, You’ll Land Among the Stars!
Huh.
Starry-eyed millennial bullshit.
I’m a realist, through and through. That crap doesn’t work on me. The world is not an endless feast of exploration, discovery, and joy. Not for me it isn’t.
“Well?” I ask, cocking a brow and leaning back in the chair. “You definitely didn’t call me in here to discuss my stellar grades, and all the scholarship opportunities coming my way, so what’s up?”
“Bernadette,” Ms. Keating says with a sigh, folding her dark-skinned hands together, her nails painted a cheery yellow this week. Her brown eyes bore into me, but I just stare straight back at her. She’s a good woman, but her cheery optimism and strong conviction would be better spent elsewhere, perhaps on younger kids who still have hope for the future. Those of us at Prescott … well, it’s just too late for us. Ms. Keating is wasting her time. “I’ve noticed you’ve started dating Victor Channing?”
It’s cute that she phrases her statement as a question when we both know she just caught him grinding all over me in the hallway.
With a sharp smile, I lift up my left hand and flash the ring.
“We’re engaged, haven’t you heard? The gossip mill at Prescott usually runs pretty hot.” I drop my hand again and shrug, just another blasé student the vice principal will have to deal with this week. I don’t want her paying anymore attention to me than that. “Is that what you brought me in here to talk about?” I lean forward, tapping my dark nails on the surface of her desk. The color I’ve painted them is called Lethal by Urban Decay. Pretty sure they discontinued the shade, but I have two full bottles, so that should last me a while.
“I’ve heard from other students what happened here during your sophomore year,” she says, and I feel my shoulders get tight. The expression on my face stays bored and uninterested. At least, I hope it does. “Those boys are bullies, Bernadette. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re a gang.”
I just stare back at her. She doesn’t just think they’re a gang, she knows, but she’s trying to be gentle with me. Why, I can’t possibly understand. “With Principal Vaughn missing, I’ve been asked to temporarily fill his position. Some of the things I found in his office were concerning …”
My heart begins to pound, but it’s too late. It’s too late for some well-meaning teacher to step in and try to undo all the hurt and damage and hate. I went to the administration for help; I still believed in the system. Well, guess what? The system fucked me. It’s over now. I’ve thrown the good girl towel in. What was it that Callum said? About surrendering to the dark? That it makes life easier?
“Whatever you found, it doesn’t matter,” I say, feeling the room shrink around me. It’s suffocating in here. Maybe I rather would be in PE?
“Bernadette, you approached Principal Vaughn with allegations of bullying, and he did nothing but bury your report. I found your statement in a file box under his desk, along with other items indicating … what do they call themselves?”
“Havoc,” I whisper, putting my hands on the knees of my leather pants and picking at the slick fabric with my nails. “The Havoc Boys.”
“Right, clever acronym. Havoc.” Ms. Keating sighs, and shakes her head for a moment, her colorful earrings swinging. “Well, the Havoc Boys are not, how should I put this, particularly savory characters. You can do so much better, Bernadette. You can be so much better.”
I stand up suddenly,