Page 21 of Dean's Delinquent

He was a paragon in this school. How dare you use him to make yourself a name?

Finally, someone’s calling out the football team. Thanks! Care to do baseball next?

So was it murder or overdose? This article is so vague. Lame. I thought you were supposed to bring the “hard-hitting” news. Next.

Are you serious!?!?!? What’s with this clickbaity bullshit?

Woohoo! Take down the football team! Way to go!!!

Over and over the mixed messages pepper the screen. Though a good amount of students seem happy with the unrepentant, unapologetic facts, many are not. It makes sense, though.

Chase Ackerman was seen as a god on this campus. No one likes it when their gods turn to fallen idols. Besides, what else did they expect of me? I added in there that foul play could have been at fault. It certainly gives plausible deniability that maybe he wasn’t so fallible.

Ugh. Despite everything, I just feel so fucking alone. They always say it’s loneliest at the top, but until this moment, I don’t think I’ve ever truly felt that. As I nibble on my lower lip, I pull up my text messages. There’s only one person I can think of who will back me up on all of this.

Ashleigh

Hey...

You know the article I wrote about the football player that died? Well, it’s totally blowing up, and not in the best way. I’m really overthinking things and would love to chat before class. You know, blow off some steam and talk about some fun stuff?

I have an idea for the next issue that will hopefully get me some answers about that sorority we keep talking about. Let me know if you’re up for lunch. My treat.

As I scroll back up, a frown furrows my brows until a light ache starts up between my eyes. When I first met her, we were constantly texting back and forth. Now, it seems as if the conversation has turned one-sided. Not for long. Not really.

The last time she messaged me was the day she was supposed to have that ‘not date’ with that guy. I would have gone with her, but my parents made other plans with me. She wouldn’t hold a grudge. Right?

Also, I wanna hear all about your date! How did it go? Was the guy a dork? Did you get anywhere? Was he a good kisser? I want the deets!

Several moments go by with no response. Unease gnaws at my gut as I wonder if I truly fucked up the first friendship I found here at Loftry. Hopefully she’s just in class and that’s why she’s not answering me.

As I throw on some clothes, my phone buzzes, perking me up just a touch. Unfortunately, when I see the name, my heart sinks back down.

Dean Anderson

My office. Now. I don’t give a fuck if you’re still asleep. Get some goddamn clothes on and get here immediately.

Not Marnie. And by the clipped way he’s texting, Dean Anderson is furious. I should be scared, terrified, even. But I’m not. What’s the worst he can do? Paddle me again? Such a hardship.

My lips quirk into a smile as I throw on my shoes and head out the door. As I reach my car, my phone buzzes again. Hopefully, he hasn’t changed his mind. Instead of Dean Anderson, however, Marnie texts me back!

Marnie

Date sucked.

Dude couldn’t find a clit if he had both hands and a flashlight.

Fucking prick just felt me up, got a hard on, then poof. He was gone.

My brain fuzzes a bit as I reread the message. It’s not like Marnie to cuss, let alone let a guy fondle her. But then, maybe I just don’t know her that well?

Wow. That really sucks. Wanna talk about it over brunch?

Look at you miss fancy and your brunch.

Can’t. I’m back home with an emergency.

Don’t text me again.

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