Untitled Part 51

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I woke up the next morning with an odd feeling of peace, especially considering how little sleep I'd gotten between my blog post and the doll. I got dressed, strapped the baby carrier to my chest for the last time, and drove to school. I waited for that odd flop in my stomach, that sense of second-guessing my decision, but it didn't come. After agonizing for hours on what to do with Adam Kozlovsky, I knew I'd made the right decision.

There was no need for a handoff that morning, so I was surprised to find Brett waiting for me at my locker, wearing his game day jersey. "Alexis, please-"

"I already scheduled my post, Brett." I opened my locker and switched out my books for the morning. "There's nothing you can do now to change that."

A look of defeat crossed his features. He looked down at the ground. "And what did you decide to do?"

I slammed my locker closed. I could tell him, but I decided it would be more fun to let him stew about it, especially since he enjoyed flustering me so much last night. "You'll find out when the blog post goes live at lunch."

As I walked off, he called after me, "Don't forget to do your part of the assignment."

I stopped dead in my tracks. I'd been so focused on nailing the person behind the videos, I'd forgotten all about that.

I slid into my desk for first period and fired up my laptop. Somehow, scrambling to finish an assignment at the last minute wasn't my idea of stress reduction. I started listing things that sounded good at relieving stress. A massage. A walk in the park. A funny movie. All very generic and bland.

Then I peeked over at Brett's list, and something inside me shifted gears. His was very personal, very specific.

Throwing the perfect spiral pass.

Playing games with my sisters.

Finding the perfect chocolate chip to frozen yogurt ratio.

Watching the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in one sitting.

Getting a new high score on my favorite video game.

Kissing a pretty girl.

Making someone smile.

Spending time with someone who truly gets me.

I choked up a little as I came to the final item on his list. It reminded me of what he'd said Monday afternoon before leaving my house, that I was one of the few people he could be himself around.

How many people in Eastline could say they knew the real Brett? The Brett who played with his sisters? The Brett who wasn't always so sure what the future held? The Brett who wanted to be more than just a football star? The Brett who was closet geek and hacker extraordinaire?

I reread the last item on his list and realized I felt the same. As much as he left me flustered and frustrated, Brett sometimes understood me better than Morgan and Richard. And if Monday was any indication, I was actually going to miss spending time with him once we wrapped up this project.

I went back to my list and changed it around, making it as specific as Brett's. And when I got to the end, I added, Doing something nice for someone else.

***

Brett slid quietly into the seat next to me just as the bell rang for fourth period. "Glad to be done with this?"

"The doll, yes."

An amused glint filled his eyes. "Just the doll?"

"For now."

He looked away. "Listen, about last night-"

"There's nothing more to talk about, Brett. You made your case."

"But I wasn't finished."

My heart jumped, stopping the air from entering my lungs. Was he going to harp on me more about exposing the voyeur? Or was he going to bring up the kiss?

Thankfully, the intercom at the front of the class crackled to life and interrupted Mr. DePaul. "Will Alexis Wyndham please report to Principal Lee's office?"

My heart skipped another beat, and this time, it had nothing to do with Brett. I'd never been called to the principal's office. I gathered my things, leaving the doll behind with Brett, and made my way to the door with everyone in the class watching me like I was a criminal on death row on my way to the chair.

Of course, when they call you to the principal's office, they don't bring you in right away. They let you stew outside for a good thirty minutes, watching his secretary answer the phone and type away on her computer, perhaps hoping the anxiety of being there will make you more compliant to his will.

Or make you less hostile.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect on me. I'd done nothing wrong. By the time the door opened, I was ready to test out my Queen B powers on Principal Lee and see if he responded the way the rest of the students did.

He wasn't easily intimidated by my "eat shit and die" glare. Instead, he kept his face unreadable as he pointed to the chair across from his desk.

Confessions of a Queen B*Where stories live. Discover now