Page 4 of Free Fall

The principal’s door opens and Reid steps out. He doesn’t even look at me when the principal says, “Thank you so much for talking to me about this unfortunate incident, Mr. Parker. I hope you’ll still be one hundred percent at practice today.”

My gut twists. Don’t they know none of that stuff fucking matters?

“It’s no problem, Mr. Dade. Barely felt a thing.”

My face burns at that, and I lean further back in my chair. I must draw their attention because Mr. Dade says, “I’m sure Miss Page will want to apologize for the physical altercation.”

I lift my gaze to meet his. “I’m sure Miss Page doesn’t.”

Like hell I would. I wonder if Mr. Parker told Dade what he said to me. Fuck him. Disgracing my brother’s memory. He doesn’t know a thing about my brother, not like me.

“Miss. Page,” Dade says, turning my name into two separate anomalies. He looks to Reid and shakes his head like they’re on the same level, like he’s apologizing to Reid for my behavior as if they’re equals of some sort and I’m just a troubled student they both have to deal with. “I’ll handle this. You run off to class, so you can keep those grades up for those scholarships.”

The knife in my gut twists again. Brady was going to get a scholarship. He called it his Spring Hill Blues Scholarship for getting the hell out of Spring Hill. I always admired him for that. He didn’t just want to leave Spring Hill for college, he wanted to get the fuck out for real and never come back. He wouldn’t have returned to teach P.E. or coach Mighty Mites. No, he was done with this place.

“Of course,” Reid says. Again, he doesn’t even give me a second glance as he turns and leaves the sitting area. Outside, I hear Dade’s secretary typing away at her desktop, more than likely adding notes to my usually stellar file. Hell, maybe they’re even writing me up. That would take the cake, wouldn’t it? My first referral?

“Inside, Miss Page,” Dade says, gesturing toward his sparse office.

I stand from my seat and slip past the middle-aged man. Did I mention he went to Spring Hill too? Class of Sixty something, I think. It’s just sad. I’m not going to be one of these people who can’t get the fuck out of here.

Dade shuts the door behind us and then moves toward his office chair. When he sits, he doesn’t waste any time getting straight to the point. “We’re worried about you, Miss Page. Reid Parker, especially. You know that nice young man just told me not to punish you. Now, I told him I couldn’t do that because rules are rules, but—”

I make a sound of amusement. “Rules are rules? Like when Cade brought in a Super Soaker to Homecoming last year and nothing happened to him? Does it explicitly say somewhere in the Code of Conduct that water guns are allowed? I’ll make sure to bring mine in. I mean, if so. If that’s what we’re saying here.”

Mr. Dade levels a glare at me. I don’t care. I just want him to know I’m aware of the hypocrisy of everything.

“Do you deny you slapped Mr. Parker?”

“No,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair. “I’m pretty sure you saw the whole thing, so it would be stupid of me to deny it. Besides, he deserved it. I’d do it again.”

His face tightens, deepening his skin’s creases which become more like craters. “We don’t allow physical altercations at Spring Hill, Briar. You know that.”

“Unless they’re out on the football field?”

His nostrils flare.

This is kind of fun. I don’t know why I was so meek before. Pushing the envelope has its own set of positives.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to abide by Mr. Parker’s wishes.”

“That’s a first,” I quip.

“Miss Page,” Dade says, his voice laced with anger.

The door pushes in behind me. For a moment, I’m startled, but then I hear my mother’s voice. “Thank you, Reid. I don’t know what I would do…” Her voice breaks, and with it, a little piece of my armor chips away. Don’t worry. It’s replaced by fury in the next second. We don’t know what we would do without Reid fucking Parker? Is she serious? We already know what we would do without Brady. Surely Reid Parker could get hit by a bus and it wouldn’t change our lives at all.

Mr. Dade stands. “Mrs. Page, thank you for coming.”

The door behind me shuts, and my mother’s heels click forward. She and Mr. Dade shake hands. I’m getting daggers, but I don’t look up. Instead, my mom sits in the chair next to mine, her back as straight as an arrow. I’m too tired to put on airs. “Thanks for calling me, Roger,” Mom says. She shakes her head. “Mr. Dade. Sorry about that.”

He waves her use of his first name away. Everyone in Spring Hill knows everyone else. The names we use for one another are dictated by the social interaction. One second, Sheriff Thomas is Sheriff Thomas, the next, he’s Daryl who likes to play darts down at the pool hall and gets sloppy after too many drinks. “I know you have a lot on your plate. Did Mr. Parker explain the situation to you?”

“Yes, he certainly did.” Dagger eyes again. I’m already digging my fingernails into my skin to try to keep my mouth shut. People don’t like opinions in Spring Hill, especially those that go against what everyone else thinks. “I’m sure Briar has apologized profusely.”

“Actually,” Mr. Dade says. “She’s refused to apologize at all to Reid.”

“Briar!” my mother exclaims, true shock forcing through her lips. The sound makes me wince a little.

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