I like how he calls Crew our boy. He must be aware of what’s going on between us, and any other time, that would be embarrassing. Not right now, though.
Now, all I want is information about Crew. Where he is. If he’s all right. What in the world he was doing with Natalie.
“I know he was caught with Natalie last night,” I admit, taking a step closer, so I can speak to him more privately. “Where is he?”
“He’s got a meeting with Matthews,” Malcolm answers, referring to the headmaster of the school. “Right at eight o’clock. He wanted me to tell you.”
“Oh.” Hope rises within me, but I tamp it down. I can’t read into this too much. “Thank you for letting me know.”
Malcolm sends a quick look in Ezra’s direction before he returns his attention to me. He holds out a folded yellow Post-It Note between his fingers. “This is his phone number. Don’t know what the two of you are doing if you’re not texting or Snapchatting with each other on the phone like normal fucking teenagers, but he wanted you to have it.”
“Thank you.” I clutch the piece of paper in my hand, the edges biting into my palm. “Is he going to be all right?”
“Don’t know,” Ezra says, earning a dirty look from Malcolm for his oh-so-reassuring contribution. “Might get suspended. Fucker deserves it.”
“He’s a Lancaster,” Malcolm adds, ignoring Ezra. “He’ll be fine.”
I see the hostility filling Ezra’s gaze and I remember how he was always flirting with Natalie. The almost desperate edge to it, and how she ignored him.
How she was always staring at Crew instead.
“Thank you again,” I tell Malcolm because I’m polite to the point of being annoying and I can’t help myself. He nods. Ezra sneers.
I leave them where they stand, entering the building and immediately leaning against the wall, opening the Post-It Note to study Crew’s phone number.
He also wrote something else.
Text me when you can, Birdy. I need to talk to you.
My heart flutters in my chest and I grab my phone, punching in the number, and immediately send him a text.
Me: It’s Wren. Text me back when you can talk.
I wait for a few minutes, leaning against the wall, watching everyone walk past me, headed to class. They’re all talking among themselves, whispering and gossiping. Laughing and reveling in the downfall of Natalie and Crew.
It makes me sad. Worse, it makes me angry, because they don’t know what actually happened. They’re all assuming Crew and Natalie were together last night, and I know that’s not the case.
He wouldn’t just drop me off and pick up Natalie, would he?
No. No way.
Not after everything we just shared.
I walk into English class in a daze, my head bent, not paying attention to what’s happening. I fall into my desk chair, hating that the desk behind me is empty, that Crew is nowhere to be found. I glance around the room, my gaze snagging on Figueroa’s. He’s already watching me, and I realize as I look around the classroom, once again, that Maggie isn’t here.
Without thought, I rise to my feet and approach his desk, noting the pleasant smile on his face, the way his eyes flicker with interest when they land on me.
I wish I had the courage to slap his face and call him out for his bad behavior. He’s getting careless.
“Wren. How can I help you this morning?” His tone is light, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I was with Maggie not even an hour ago. Upset, pregnant-with-his-baby Maggie, who left my room to come talk to him, and here he sits, not traumatized in the least, while she’s not even here.
What happened with their conversation? Did he blow her off?
“Where’s Maggie?” I ask him, my tone flat. Unfriendly.
Totally unlike me.
He frowns, sensing my hostility. “I don’t know. She hasn’t shown up to class yet. The bell hasn’t rung—”
It does exactly that, silencing our conversation.
“She has three more minutes,” he says once the bell shuts off. “She should be here any second.”
“But I know she came straight here from the dorm to speak with you,” I say, wanting him to understand that I know everything.
Something flickers in his expression but he smooths it out. Like a blank canvas. “No, she didn’t.”
“She told me she was going to.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“She was upset because you didn’t meet with her last night.”
The irritation is full-blown blazing in his dark eyes now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I do. You were supposed to meet with her last evening, and you cancelled. She wanted to talk to you about the ba—”
“Stop. Shut up.” His voice is fierce, his eyes almost black. “Stay out of it, Wren.”
I stare at him, startled he would speak so harshly to me. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
He’s lying.
“Did she leave? Should I go find her? Make sure she’s okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” he snaps. “Go sit down.”
It’s like I don’t even care anymore. I’ve tossed all niceties aside, just as he has. I need him to know that I know…everything.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to her,” I tell him, my voice even. My emotions completely under control. “You need to do what’s right and take care of her.”
He doesn’t say a word, but he curls his right hand into a fist, pounding it lightly on top of his desk.
“She’s only seventeen and hopelessly in love with you,” I continue, quickly glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone’s watching us. No one really is. They’re all used to girls talking to Fig during class. “I don’t know why, considering you have a reputation. You do this every year.”
“Like you were even aware of what was going on until that asshole boyfriend of yours told you,” Fig snarls, basically admitting what I just accused him of. All pretense of the friendly, cool English teacher is gone. Now he’s just a pitiful, angry man. He lowers his voice, though I’m not sure anymore if he cares if someone hears him. “Where is Crew anyway? Oh, that’s right, he got caught sneaking around with Natalie Hartford last night. Both of them will most likely get suspended.”
His words are like a stab to the heart. He said it just to upset me and it worked.
Turning away from him, I go back to my desk, settling in my seat, staring at the door, willing Maggie to appear.
Willing Crew to appear too.
But neither of them ever do.
CREW
I’m sitting in Headmaster Matthews’office, slouching in the chair that sits in front of his desk, watching as he speaks on the phone with my father. He’s got it on speaker, I can hear every shitty word Reginald Lancaster has to say about me, but I don’t care.
I just want out of here. I need to talk to Wren. Clear the air with her and make sure she understands what actually happened last night.
“Normally we would suspend students caught out on campus after curfew,” Matthews says after my dad wraps up his three-minute tirade on my lack of focus and how I don’t give a damn about school or other people. “But we’re so close to finals week and winter break. I’m thinking the time off will be a good time for both your son and Miss Hartford to think about what they’ve done and come to terms with their mistakes.”
My father makes a harumphing noise. “You’re too soft on ‘em, Matthews.”
Matthews can’t win. He suspends me, and my father will be pissed. He lets me go and my father’s pissed.
“I’ll put them in detention then,” Matthews suggests, his gaze meeting mine. If I could, I’d give him the finger, but I restrain myself. “For the rest of the week.”
That’s a whoppin’ two days. Big deal.
“Whatever you think is best.” I can tell my father is done with this conversation. “Crew!”
“Yes, Sir?” God, I hate him.
“Quit fucking around and get your head on straight for once in your goddamn life. Do you understand me?”
Matthews flinches at the choice words my father uses. Such a cool, calm dude when he wants to be.
Not.
“Will do,” I tell him.
Dad ends the call, and with a sigh, Matthews punches a button, shutting off the phone. He rests his elbows on top of his messy desk, pressing his hands together. “You know I’m taking a chance with this.”
I lean forward in my chair, taking my opportunity. “And you know I’m telling you the truth. Natalie was sneaking back onto campus after meeting with Mr. Figueroa. I saw his car. I saw him inside the car. Pretty sure I saw him kiss her too.”
Matthews winces. “You sure about that?”
“Not one hundred percent.”
“You don’t think he was helping her with a paper?”
Oh sweet, idiotic Headmaster Matthews. Why is everyone in denial when it comes to Figueroa?
“It was ten o’clock at night. I don’t think he was helping her with a paper,” I tell him, my voice dry. “I don’t even think she’s in one of his English classes.”
Matthews sighs. “She’s not. I’ve already checked.”
“Told you.”
“This is a serious allegation, Crew. You could put a man’s entire career at stake if this comes out.”
“It’ll come out, because now that I’ve told you, by law, you have to report it to the authorities.” I’m feeling pretty damn good for ratting Fig out. I don’t even care if it fucks with his career. That’s exactly what it should do. “He has no business teaching here. These rumors have been going on for years. Haven’t you ever heard about them?”
Matthews sighs. “There have been rumors swirling around him for years. A friendly English teacher, who actually cares, garners a lot of attention, some of it negative. The man is an institution at this school. He’s been here longer than I have.”
“And that means it’s okay that he’s preying on underage teenage girls.” I nod. “Gotcha.”
“I want you to know no one has ever come to me about Figueroa—ever. I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve never seen actual proof.”
“Well, now you’ve got to make your report, and you’ve got your proof. Me. I saw them.” I rise to my feet. “Can I go to class now?”
“What’s your first period?”
“Honors English.” I grin, not giving a shit that I’ll see Figueroa. Might be fun, knowing that I’m destroying him, yet he has no clue.
Plus, I need to talk to Wren. Make sure she’s okay. All the rumors must be flying around campus, and I’m sure they’re all talking about me and Natalie.
Malcolm already warned me Ezra is mad, thinking I’m trying to steal his girl by meeting up with her last night.
The dumbass has no clue what’s really going on. He needs to blame that asshole Fig for stealing Natalie from him.
I leave Matthews’ office a few minutes later, spotting Natalie sitting in the admin office, I assume waiting to speak to him next. The moment her gaze meets mine, she stands, rushing toward me.
“What did you tell him?” she asks, her voice hushed as she glances over at Matthews’ secretary, Vivian, who’s watching us with obvious interest.
“Everything.”
Natalie’s eyes widen. “What exactly are you referring to?”