Fall: A High School Bully Romance (Sunset Beach High Book 1) Read online

  I don't disagree with her, but it's not what I need to hear right at that moment. I need her to be a friend, to be supportive, and to help me figure out how to get out of the mess I've created for myself. I don't need someone else telling me what to do.

  I push open the door and get out. “Well, I guess I'm not.”

  I hear her calling after me as I walk away, but I keep walking and I don't turn around.

  FORTY ONE

  I keep my head down for the first half of the day, barely looking anyone in the eye. I skip lunch with Bridget, Gina, and Maddie because the idea of getting grilled some more and made to feel like I've done something wrong turns my stomach. I know I've done something wrong and I don't need to be reminded. What I need is for someone to tell me that they get it, that they understand why I did it, and that I'm not a horrible person.

  But maybe I am.

  I hide in the computer lab rather than going to lunch and I'm staring mindlessly at the screen when Shanna sits down in the chair next to me. “Hi.”

  I barely look at her. “Hi.”

  “You okay?”

  I nod. “Sure.”

  “You don't sound like it,” she says.

  I shrug.

  “I heard what happened,” she says. “You really broke her nose?”

  “Apparently,” I say.

  I wait for her to judge me or tell me that I shouldn't have done it.

  “Good,” she says. “That's bullshit.”

  I look at her, surprised.

  “Seriously,” she says. “That's bullshit. She had to know full well that stuff's been going on with you two, so it's not like she showed up there and was surprised to see you. She saw you jump off the pier with him. She was happy to go along with the whole thing.”

  “Yeah, I don't know,” I say.

  “I do know,” she says, leaning toward me. “Fuck her. That was a bullshit move. She had to know Trevor was trying to piss you off and she was happy to play along. She's lucky all you did was punch her in the face.”

  I look around the lab. “How the hell does everyone know?”

  “Because she put it out there,” Shanna says. “She snapped a pic of herself and put it on her story. After that, it's like wildfire.” She smirks. “So she couldn't have been in too much pain if she was able to do that.”

  I nod, thinking about that, just grateful that someone seems to be on my side.

  “What did Trevor do?” she asks.

  “Honestly, I don't remember,” I say. “It's all just a blur and then I left with my dad.”

  “You should've punched him, too.”

  I laugh and it's the first time I've laughed since it happened.

  Shanna does, too.

  “Why aren't you at lunch?” she asks. “I just came in here because I had to print something off and I saw you sitting here.”

  “Not hungry,” I tell her.

  She eyes me and I think she suspects something else, but she doesn't ask. “Ah, okay.” She nods at the door. “I've gotta go meet Jessica and Lisa so we can grab some food. Do you want to come with us?”

  I'm surprised at the invitation and she sees it on my face.

  “Don't worry,” she says. “It's cool. They know you and I are cool now.”

  I appreciate the invitation, but I don't feel like eating or sitting somewhere that I can be looked at like I'm a fish in a tank.

  “I'm gonna pass,” I tell her. “But thanks. I just don't want to eat. Or do much of anything.”

  She starts to say something else, but the teacher from the check-in desk comes over. “Are you Presley Baxter?”

  I nod.

  “I just received a phone call,” she says. “You're wanted in the principal's office. Right now.”

  FORTY TWO

  Shanna walks me to the office because I can't remember where it is, gives me a quick hug, then tells me she'll see me in art. I watch her walk down the hall before I push open the door to the office.

  A woman with short blonde hair and a serious expression is staring at a computer screen and barely glances at me. “Yes?”

  “I was told I needed to come down here,” I tell her. “I'm Presley Baxter.”

  She tears her eyes away from the screen, gives me the once over, and holds up her index finger. “Stay right there for a second.”

  I stand there while she picks up her phone, says my name into it, nods, then hangs up. She points to the double glass doors behind her on the right. “Go right in there. They're expecting you.”

  My stomach lurches, not knowing who exactly is behind the door, but I nod back at her and head for the doors. My hand is shaking as I reach for the handle. I push the door open and step inside.

  My father is sitting across from a woman I've never seen before. She has short dark hair, flecked with gray and reading glasses on the end of her nose. She's wearing a red dress and her expression is more serious than the one on the woman's face in the front of the office.

  My father turns around. “Presley.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Please have a seat, Presley,” the woman behind the desk says. “I'm Mrs. Young. I'm the principal here at Sunset Beach.”

  I look at my dad. He points to the seat next to him and I take it.

  “Presley, my understanding is you were involved in an altercation with another student yesterday,” Mrs. Young says. “Is that correct?”

  “Uh...yes,” I tell her.

  “And my understanding is that you struck this other student?” she asks. “And that it was not in self-defense?”

  I look at my father for guidance, but he is just looking at me, waiting for the same answer she is.

  “It wasn't self-defense,” I tell her. “But she--”

  “Did she do anything to you at all?” Mrs. Young asks, cutting me off. “Anything physical that provoked the attack?”

  I don't say anything.

  “Presley,” my dad says. “Answer the question.”

  I clear my throat. “No. She didn't touch me. She said something. That was it.”

  “Do you and this student have any sort of history?” Mrs. Young asks. “Have there been any altercations in the past?”

  I think about seeing her wrapped around Trevor and realize those are the only times I've ever seen her. With Trevor.

  “No, not really,” I say.

  Mrs. Young nods slowly, her red lips pinched together. “Alright. I appreciate your honesty. I called your father here because we don't issue disciplinary action without a parent present. I became aware of what occurred this morning when I received a call from the other student's mother.”

  “But this didn't happen at school,” I say. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because you both are students here,” she explains. “Because we have a duty to provide a safe environment to all of our students and staff. And after what's occurred, the student you assaulted is concerned for her safety.”

  “I won't go near her,” I say. “I swear I won't. I know...I know it was wrong. It's not going to happen again.”

  Mrs. Young forces a smile on her face. “I appreciate you saying that and I hope that's the truth. But I do think there needs to be a cooling off period.”

  I look at my dad, not understanding, but he's looking at Mrs. Young.

  “I'm issuing you a two day suspension,” she informs me. “You'll be going home with your father for the remainder of today and that will be treated as an excused absence. The suspension will be for tomorrow and the day after. You may not attend school or be on the grounds at any time after you leave with your father today. You may not attend any school sponsored events during those two days. Your teachers will provide you with the work that you missed and you'll be given an additional two days to make up the work and get it turned in.”

  “I won't do anything,” I tell her. “You don't have to suspend me.”

  “I'm afraid I do, Presley,” she says. “Our code of conduct is straightforward. And I do need t
o inform both of you that if this happens again, you will be looking at expulsion.” She looks at my father. “There is a review process, but that's truly just a formality. If another assault of any kind occurs, she will be asked to leave the school.”

  My father gives her a curt nod.

  “You don't have to do this,” I say, tears in my eyes. “I won't do it again. I won't even talk to her.”

  “I think that would be best for everyone,” Mrs. Young says. “But the decision has been made. You can go to your locker with your father, but then we'll need you to leave campus. We'll see you back here on Monday and please check in with this office when you return on Monday before class.” She stands and looks at my father. “Thank you for your understanding.”

  My father stands and they shake hands.

  “I'm sorry for the trouble,” my dad says. “I can assure you it won't happen again and Presley and I will be talking about all of this before she returns next week.”

  Mrs. Young nods. “Thank you.”

  I sit because I feel like I'm going to throw up and my legs don't feel like they can hold me.

  “Presley,” my dad says. “Let's go.”

  I push myself out of the chair and look at Mrs. Young. Her hands are clasped together in front of her, almost like she's in church or something. She nods at me without a smile.

  And my father escorts me out of the office.

  So I can start my suspension.

  FORTY THREE

  “I'm going to have to go back to the office,” my dad says. “I left as soon as the principal called me, but I have to go back.”

  I'm slumped against the passenger door. I don't say anything.

  “I don't want you going anywhere while I'm gone,” he says. “We'll talk more about all of this tonight.”

  “Great,” I say.

  “Presley,” he says and it's sharp and angry and something I haven't heard from him in a long time. “I mean it. We will talk more about this tonight.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  We stop at a red light and he taps the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, shaking his head. “I just don't understand it, Presley. This isn't like you. It's not like you to get in trouble and it's sure not like you to punch some girl in the face for no reason. I just don't get it.”

  I think about trying to explain it all to him, about Trevor and what's happened between us and why Holly was there and why I just snapped. But I don't think he'll understand and I know he's already in a hard spot with Trevor's dad. I don't want to make it worse for him.

  “I'm sorry,” I say and it comes out as a whisper. “I really am.”

  The light changes to green and we start moving.

  “Why did you do it?” he asks, glancing at me. “Just tell me.”

  I don't want to lie to him. “It's complicated, Dad.”

  “How complicated can it be?” he asks.

  “It just is,” I tell him. “I'm sorry. I swear it won't happen again. And I'm sorry I made things weird for you with Mr. Robinson.”

  “I can handle that,” he says. “It's bigger than that, though, Pres. You can't take out your anger on someone like that, no matter what it's about.”

  “I know,” I tell him.

  He sighs and I know he's frustrated because I don't offer more. But I don't know that I have anything else to give him.

  We drive in silence the rest of the way home.

  “I'd take your phone,” he tells me when we pull into the driveway. “But that doesn't seem practical in case I need to reach you.” He pauses. “But we're going to need to talk about a punishment.”

  “Okay,” I tell him, not wanting a fight.

  “I will make sure I'm home by 7,” he says. “We'll have dinner then and discuss...everything.”

  I gather my bag from the floor and push the door open.

  “You know she could press charges, right?” he says.

  My stomach tightens. “Who? Holly?”

  He nods. “Yeah. If her parents were upset enough to call the school, there's reason to think they might also file a police report.”

  I get out of the car and look at him. “Do you think they will?”

  “I have no idea,” he says, rubbing at his forehead like he has a headache. “We can talk about it tonight. Just stay home and I'll let you know when I'm on my way.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  I hesitate just a fraction of a second, thinking he might tell me it'll be okay or that he loves me or anything that might make me feel a tiny bit better.

  But he doesn't and I close the door. He backs out of the driveway and heads away from the house without so much as a glance, leaving me standing there.

  Alone.

  FORTY FOUR

  I'm home for an hour, curled up on my bed, slowly eating my way through a bag of Doritos, when the doorbell rings. I haven't checked my phone, I haven't turned on the TV, and I've been staring at the wall, putting chips in my mouth. I can't stop thinking about Trevor and Holly and Mrs. Young and the police, all of them flashing through my head like slides on a screen.

  I ignore the doorbell the first time it chimes, then groan when it rings a second time. I grab the bag of chips, slide off my bed, and head for the front room.

  The glass on the front door is frosted and I'm not tall enough to reach the peephole. I shift the bag to my right hand and open the door with my left.

  Trevor is standing there.

  “Go the fuck away,” I say, immediately closing the door.

  He jams his hand against it, keeping me from closing it. “Wait. Just wait.”

  “I swear to god I'll call the cops,” I tell him. “Leave.”

  “Would you chill for just a second?” he says.

  “You want me to chill?” I ask, infuriated. “You want me to chill? After I punch your fucking girlfriend in the face and she called the school and got me suspended? I should chill out? Go fuck yourself!”

  I push hard on the door, but it doesn't budge.

  “Just listen to me,” he says. “For thirty seconds.”

  “No. Go away. I need to get ready to go to jail or wherever I'm gonna end up.”

  “You're not going to jail,” he says.

  “How the hell would you know?” I ask.

  “Because my dad is going to take care of it,” he says.

  That stops me. “What?”

  “He's going to take care of it,” he says again. “He's going to make sure nothing happens to you. He tried to take care of it before the suspension, but it was too late. Her parents had already called the school.”

  “How?” I ask. “How is he going to take care of it?”

  “Because it's what he does,” Trevor says. “And because I asked him to. Trust me. Nothing's going to happen.”

  “Trust you,” I say. “Yeah, right.”

  He runs his free hand through his hair. He's wearing a black T-shirt, gray shorts, and sandals. He is impossibly tan. I realize it's the first time I've seen him with a shirt on in a few days.

  “If you let me in, I can explain,” he says.

  “I don't want you in my house,” I tell him.

  He takes his hand off the door and takes a step back. He spreads his arms wide. “Okay. Come out here then? So we can talk?” He smiles. “And maybe give me some Doritos?”

  I look at the bag in my hand because I've forgotten that I'm holding it. I step outside and pull the door closed behind me, but don't offer him the chips. “Fine. Talk.”

  He runs a hand through his hair again and damn if that isn't the sexiest thing ever.

  Focus, I remind myself.

  “After you left, we took her to the ER,” he says. “Her nose was broken.”

  “I know that,” I tell him.

  “Her parents came and were totally freaked,” he explains. “My dad tells them what happened and they're super pissed. We leave and my dad starts grilling me on the way home.” He pauses. “I told him it wasn't all your fault.”

  “How fuckin
g noble of you,” I tell him.

  “I didn't give him all the details,” he tells me. “I guess I can if you want.”

  My cheeks grow warm and I'm pissed that he's able to embarrass me.

  “I just told him that it wasn't all your fault,” he says. “That there was some shit between the two of you and that it wasn't just you smoking her with a sucker punch.” The corner of his mouth flickers upward. “Though, it kinda was. Didn't know you could throw a right hook like that.”

  “Happy to show you again if you need to see it,” I tell him.

  He laughs. “I'm good, but thanks.” He rubs at the stubble on his chin. “Anyway, my dad's going to talk to her dad today and make sure it's over.”

  “How's he gonna convince him?” I ask.

  Trevor rolls his icy blue eyes. “Man, I don't know. It's what my dad does, okay? Like, everyone does business with him and they don't wanna piss him off. He said he'd call them and make sure nothing else happens and when he says shit like that, it happens.” He shrugs. “If you're worried about the cops, you can stop. It's not gonna happen.”

  I want to believe him, but I'm wary. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he says. “That's it?”

  “What else do you want?”

  “Thank you would be cool.”

  “You want me to thank you?” I ask. “For your dad fixing something that you started? Really? How about if I call up your dad and tell him why she was there?”

  He shrugs again. “You can, I guess. I can't stop you.”

  But he knows I won't and I hate that I know I won't.

  “I'll thank him if I ever see him again,” I say. “But I don't see anything to thank you for.”

  He stares at me for a moment. “Okay.”

  We stand there in silence for a moment. A car drives down the street. I realize that I don't see his stupid truck taking up space and blocking the sun.

  “Why the fuck did you bring her?” I ask.

  “To piss you off,” he says.

  The directness of his answer surprises me. I thought he'd give me something other than the truth and I'm not sure how to follow up.

  “I knew you were going to be there,” he continues. “My dad asked me to be home and when he asks me to do something, he's not really asking. It's more like a...command.”