Vacillating on what to say, I shake my head in consternation.
“Am I free to take her home?”
“You can check with the cop.” He steeples his thin fingers. “But Elizabeth’s been expelled from school, and I’d retain an attorney if I were you. Courtney’s family will most likely press charges.”
“And she comes from money,” I add.
He narrows his eyes at me. “What’s that have to do with anything?”
“Her father is an attorney. I know of him.” Numbly, I ask, “What about her schoolwork?”
“Does it matter?” He rises, his hand drifting back to his sparse hair. “She wasn’t going to graduate anyway.” Then he mutters, “She’s just another drain on the system, like her father.”
The words sting, and I bite my tongue.
Her father?
What does the principal know about Elle’s dead dad? I don’t follow Mitchum back into the hall, instead resting my head in my hands to contemplate this.
CHAPTER 35
Elle
The policeman, a burly, annoying guy named Juan, finishes asking me rapid-fire questions, one after the other. He wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t grunt after every answer, as if it’s confirmation I’m being truthful.
Principal Mitchum ambles down the hall, but Charlotte isn’t with him.
Inside I’m panicking. What if she’s so upset she just leaves me here to deal with Courtney’s family and the principal?
Then you’ll have to call Diane, I suppose, who won’t answer and won’t leave work. She’ll tell you to fend for yourself, that it’s time to be a big girl.
I bury my head in my hands.
As he halts in front of me, Mitchum’s shiny brown wing tips step into my line of vision.
“Elizabeth.” His stern voice commands that I acknowledge him. Tears run down my cheek as I gaze up.
Juan stands and moves to a chair opposite us.
I moan, “Why doesn’t anyone believe that Courtney made the first move and I responded—appropriately, if I might add.”
He stares at me, unflinching. “Your aunt is going to take you home. You are not to return to school property. Do you understand?”
I timidly shake my head.
“Verbal, please.”
“Yeah, I mean, yes, sir.”
“If you do, it’s considered trespassing, and you will be arrested. Mrs. Marsh will mail you a packet with your final grades and discharge papers. I recommend you find a GED program or a way to test out of your senior year. Some of the local community colleges offer classes, if you need them, or there’s a couple of alternative high schools. It’s almost the summer, so it shouldn’t be a problem to start summer school.”
I stay silent, afraid my voice will crack if I speak.
“Any questions?”
“You mean, I can’t come back ever?”
“You’re expelled,” he adds, “and it’s not like you bothered to attend when you had the choice.”
“What about Courtney?”
“What about her?”
“Will she be suspended?”
“Elizabeth, when will you learn that every action has a reaction and every choice has a consequence?” He sighs. “We have zero tolerance on fighting, so yes, but her family will claim self-defense and try and fight it.”
I whimper, “She started it.”
“Stop talking.” Wagging a finger at me, disgustedly, he says, “I ask the questions.”
I direct my attention to the sound of approaching footsteps. When I look down the hall, I see Charlotte moving at a snail’s pace, each step deliberate. When she stops beside Mitchum, it’s like I’m staring at a ghost. Her skin ashen, she stands there, stoic.
“Elizabeth?” he snaps.
Unable to meet his eyes, I bite my lip hard enough I taste blood. Instead, I stare directly at Charlotte. Her face contorts into a frown as she considers me.
“You need to go home,” Mitchum says, turning to Charlotte. “Now.”
Charlotte steps forward, reaching for my arm to help me up. The cops already confiscated my backpack.
“Let’s go.” Her voice is cold.
Heaving myself out of the chair, I avoid her eyes, a storm brewing behind them—and I’m the sole reason. Holding me by the elbow, she practically drags me along beside her. As soon as we reach the exit, she comes to a standstill.
“What the hell happened?” she spews. “You’re endangering your child’s life so you can have a silly tiff with another high schooler?”
“It’s not a silly tiff, whatever the hell a tiff is.”
“Why did you attack Courtney?”
Glaring at her in defiance, I lash out. “None of your business.”
“I drove you to her house, tried to ingratiate her into an evening with us when she needed a ride. How did it come to this?”
“No, what you did was you forced her on me. Someone who I hate.”
“That’s a strong word, Elizabeth.”
“That’s why I’m using it, Charlotte,” I sneer.
She throws her hands up in the air. “Why would violence be the answer? It doesn’t solve anything.” Walking toward the parking lot, she snaps, “I have a class to instruct. I’ve got to go.”
“What about your past?”
She spins arounds fast enough it makes me lightheaded. “What about it?”
“Is there anything you’d do differently,” I inquire, “since we’re so focused on how I’m a loser?”
“I never said that.”
Motioning with air quotes, I ask, “You ever have any ‘accidents’ or ‘lie’ about something you did?”
She stares at me blankly.
“Get in trouble at school?”
Charlotte’s mouth tightens. “No, I can’t say I did.”
“Push someone down a flight of stairs,” I sneer, “or yourself?”
I instantly regret saying this as the words hang in the balance between us. Charlotte’s face drains of color, her lips turning from pale pink to white. “If there’s something you’re implying, then let’s hear it.”
“Nothing.” I gulp for air. “I read about you is all.”
Crossing her arms, she takes a step back. “You read about me?” Her lip trembles. “Wow, you read about me.” She spits out, “Tell me what you read, Elle, since you know everything at seventeen.” Her eyes slant into narrow slits. “Is there something you want to tell me about my past I don’t know?”
We have a standoff, each glowering at the other. Her hands are holding on to her handbag, while mine are poised on my hips. The one thing we have in common: we are both defiant.
“I just want you to know what’s out there. Some of the articles . . .” I pause. “Some mention you threw yourself down a flight of stairs when you were pregnant, causing you to lose your baby.” I then whisper, “Is it true?”
“Where would you read that?” Her face is drawn into a grimace. “That’s disgusting.”
“Just some posts on Reddit.” I shrug. “I’m not saying you did . . .”