Page 72 of Give Me Strength

Ashlynn (pauses, then in a sweet tone): What can I do for you, Principal Richardson?

Principal Richardson: Leland is still in jail.

Ashlynn: And what does that have to do with me?

Principal Richardson: The vandalism case against him is still ongoing.

Ashlynn: It’s the security company pressing charges, not me.

Principal Richardson: And your lawyer filled a motion to introduce prior bad acts.

Ashlynn: So you pulled me out of a test again to discuss it.

Principal Richardson: Annoying, isn’t it? The little things that can derail one’s future.

Ashlynn: I didn’t invite him over. It’s common knowledge that I don’t invite anyone over. Ever.

Principal Richardson: That’s neither here nor there. As I already told you, we can’t have this kind of scandal reflecting poorly on Bluegrass. Tell the security company and your lawyer that Leland came by to see you. That your father died, and he was being a good friend.

Ashlynn: So you want me to lie.

Principal Richardson: I want you to make this go away. You have the means to do so. He already paid his debt to society once, does he really have to go to jail a second time to prove a point?

Ashlynn: Why are you so hell bent on defending him? He did this to himself.

Principal Richardson: He will get out, with or without your cooperation, and the last thing you want is for him to escalate.

Ashlynn: You do know what he did to me before?—

Principal Richardson (harshly): He will do much worse to you. And believe me, you don’t want to find out what he’s capable of?—

I stop the recording, and the room falls silent.

Nicole’s face flushes a deep red, eyes widening as the color rises from her neck to her cheeks. “That was taken out of context. I had one bad day?—”

“That was three days ago,” I cut her off, my voice cold and unwavering. “It goes back further. Tell me. Do you speak to all of your students that way, or are your bad days reserved for Ash alone?”

She opens her mouth, struggling to form words, but I don’t give her the chance.

I lean forward, my eyes boring into hers. “You have a duty to protect your students, and you failed. Worse, you made it easy for him. Allowing him to continue, creating an environment where he felt safe and entitled to harass her.”

She sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair. “Gilbert, you have to understand the position I’m in. The school’s reputation, the potential fallout?—”

“I don’t care about the school’s reputation!” I snap. “You threatened her. Repeatedly. You knowingly allowed a predator to continue stalking her, just to protect the school’s reputation. You put her life at risk, prioritizing avoiding bad publicity over protecting her.”

Nicole’s face hardens. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“It’s not,” I say firmly. “I have you on tape, asking her to lie so he can get off. You think you can intimidate and manipulate people to protect your precious school? You think I’m going to let you get away with threatening someone I care about? I won’t let this slide. You’ve proven yourself unfit to protect the students under your care, and you will be held accountable. I plan on taking legal action against you and the school.”

She recovers some of her composure, her eyes narrowing. “If you want to play it that way,” she says, her tone laced with venom, “then maybe I should reveal that you’re sleeping with a student. That could ruin your career and reputation, Doctor McKenzie.”

A dry chuckle escapes me, utterly devoid of humor. “I would love to see you try. Ash is eighteen and legally an adult. There’s nothing inappropriate about our relationship. The only reason you’re not leaving here in handcuffs today is because she wants to graduate in peace.”

She opens her mouth to retort, but I raise a hand to stop her. “I’m not a forgiving man, Principal Richardson,” I continue, my voice icy. “You should be grateful for Ash’s kindness. She’s giving you a chance to handle this quietly, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Your career, your reputation, everything you’ve built here — it’s all on the line.”

Her face pales at the coldness in my voice. The realization of her precarious situation is clear in her expression. She looks like she’s calculating her next move, trying to salvage what she can.

I lean back, regarding her with a cold detachment. “What assets do you have?”

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