Page 23 of Burn

I end up folded over, my head positioned between my legs. Mr. Peters is suddenly gone, and I hear his voice, sounding further away.

“Ms. Dean—Rachel—I need you.” There’s urgency in his tone.

Who’s Rachel?

My pulse thunders in my ears, and I barely hear the hushed whispers. I think I sit here, slowly suffocating, for hours, when I feel soft hands on mine. They’re ice-cold, and it brings back some of my awareness.

Her voice is a gentle hum, “Morgan, honey. Can you hear me?”

I shift my eyes up and see the secretary in front of me. A calm washes over me, and I take a deep breath for the first time, maybe in my life.

“That’s it. Deep breaths,” she soothes. “With me.” She takes a slow, steady breath in, her chest inflating. When she pushes the air out, it makes a soft whooshing sound, and she hums lightly. “Again.”

We breathe together, in and out, until my nausea fades, the feeling returns to my fingers, and I sit up, leaning back into the chair, exhausted.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I nod, still shaking.

“Alright, dear.” She stands up and turns toward the door, and I gasp when I realize she’s about to leave.

Mr. Peters lifts his hands and says, “Please stay, Rachel.”

She nods and pulls a chair closer to the desk. Mr. Peters walks a few steps to his chair, sits down, and puts both hands on his desk.

“Morgan are you ready to talk?” he asks.

I nod, unable to look at him.

“I know you students think I’m clueless,” he begins, “But I do notice things. I hear things. I was going to talk to you about etiquette on school property and safe sex. However, I’ve heard two rumors over the last week and based on your reaction to me closing us in a room alone, I think we need to have a different conversation.”

My eyes flick toward the secretary and back to my hands in my lap.

“What happened last week in the north girls’ bathroom?”

I keep my lips sealed, trying to figure out how to answer the question. I could tell them what happened and risk that they don’t believe me. I could tell them, and Aaron could deny it. His word against mine. They always believe the guy. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice Rachel standing and walking back to me, crouching down again, and putting her hand on my knee. I flinch.

“Sorry. I…” I start.

Rachel interrupts, “Shh. You don’t need to apologize, Morgan. I want you to know I’m here, and you can tell us what happened.”

I look at her. Into her brown eyes. Her eyebrows are pushed together, forming two deep lines between them. She doesn’t look very old. Her mousy brown hair is cut into a bob just under her jawline. Her hand slowly moves back and forth.

If I tell them, he’ll retaliate.

Even if they believe me.

He’ll come for me.

“Nothing happened,” my voice is timid and fragile.

Mr. Peters sighs, “How do you explain what just happened?”

“I can’t. It’s been a stressful week. I was sick. My mom and I got into a fight. It’s my birthday…” with the last commission; a tear spills over my cheek.

Fuck, never gonna be able to stop now.

The room is silent, and the clock on the desk ticks with each passing second. When I finally work up the nerve to look at Mr. Peters, I am surprised not to find his eyes staring at me. His head is resting in his hands, and he looks so resigned. I want to apologize for adding stress to his plate and for being another problem student he has to deal with.

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