The Return

Chapter Thirty Nine

Scarlett

Tuesday May 12th 2018.

If she could hear other people's thoughts, she would hear them talking about her. Surprise! She hadn't faded. Not after Cynthia made that snide comment about how she was so sure Scarlett was sleeping with Mr. Pinbrough.

Shit.

If she said it in English class, Scarlett would have denied it. Buffered the rumors stirred in the small classroom.

If she said it in the halls, it would have been drowned out by idle chatter and displaced snickering.

No, Cynthia said it in the middle of the cafeteria at lunch. She walked up to Malcolm and Scarlett's table slid into the seat across from them and broke the news.

Why? All because Scarlett got that goddamn A- in Mr. Pinbrough's English pop quiz. A test nearly every student in class flunked.

"I have a reputation for having the best grades in every class, what makes you think it's because I'm sleeping with him?" Scarlett was quick to defend.

"That was true. But you haven't had an A in anything since your old man was locked up. Or is that suddenly not getting to you anymore?" Cynthia lifted her chin.

"Leave me alone, Cynthia, if you flunked a test, go read for the next one, don't start making things up."

Cynthia wilted.

"I see the way he looks at you. In class."

"Newsflash, I tried to kill myself, everyone has been giving me the same look since it happened." She didn't like talking about that evening in Malcolm's basement. It left a sick feeling in her gut.

"You've already been kicked out of the cheer squad; you're flunking school and your family is a disaster. You're nothing, Scarlett Leighton." Cynthia said scowling. "You should have died that afternoon; it would have been better for everyone else." She slid out of their table.

Scarlett tried to return to her stale egg salad sandwich. "Can you believe her?" She let out a nervous laugh.

"Is that true?" Malcolm whispered. He wasn't looking at her. His phone was face down on the wooden table. Her throat tensed.

Scarlett frowned. "Of course, not." The lie was as smooth as butter.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Scar, are you sleeping with him?"

Could he keep his voice down? Like Fuck.

"How can you even ask me that?" She reached for the sandwich. Her appetite was long gone, but she needed something to do with her hands.

"Are you fucking the English teacher?" His voice boomed. Heads turned. The whispers were background noise.

Damn bitch. She should have died from the crab prank.

"Are you?" She asked around a bite of her sandwich. It was dry and nearly made her choke. She chewed it quickly and swallowed.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Are you sleeping with Farida?" She wiped her lips with the hem of her sleeve.

His jaw clenched.

"I saw the Snap, the one of her straddling you? Is that why you guys are so close? Because you're fucking her too?" She reached for a bottle of water and resisted dumping it all over him.

"So, as revenge, you go bang the English teacher?"

Was he still on this?

They were even. She banged the English teacher and he banged his best friend.

"Go to hell, Malcolm."

She slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped out of their table.

A cold hand wrapped around hers. "You do not get to walk away from me."

It was reflex.

Turning around, her other hand landed a slap on his cheek. It burned red.

He cradled it.

Eyes burned her skin, following her all the way out of the cafeteria.

She was quick on her feet, down the hall turning the corner by the chemistry lab and four doors down. She knew the route to his office off by heart. The halls were empty.

She didn't bother to knock.

He was by his desk, head in his hands.

She closed the door behind her and locked it.

"They know." She said softly, still leaning against the door. She was shaking, her breath unstable. "Everything was fine at lunch until Cynthia came up and started running her mouth about how she's convinced we're sleeping together."

He assessed the situation.

"That was fast." He dug through his drawer for his phone.

She felt utterly useless and judging by his expression, he couldn't be bothered.

"That was fast?" She prompted, her index finger scratching the side of her thumb. "That's all you have to say about the whole school finding out that I was fucking my English teacher?" 

He set his phone aside. "Because some kids spread gossip around the halls doesn't mean it's something to worry about."

She walked up to his table. "You could lose your job, or go to prison."

His shoulders shot up to his ears. "Prison?"

"Statutory rape."

"You were eighteen when we started fucking... weren't you?"

"With the narrative people are carrying around, I doubt the board will see it that way." She sounded exhausted.

"Then we'll make them see it that way."

She clamped her jaw shut.

He smiled tentatively. "I always knew I had more to lose and that people would catch on regardless." He stood up from his swivel chair. "We knew this was coming." He rounded the table and pulled her into his chest.

"Now what?" She sniffled.

"I don't know."

That was when the hell truly began.