Page 27 of The Rebel
“You’ll help clean up and prepare the Art Rooms for the next week. Report to Miss Creighton,” Mrs. Hayman said. “Your actions disrupted the class today, wasting valuable time. It’s only fair that you owe some time to the department.”
I sneered. That seemed like an outrageous punishment, excessive for such a small misdemeanor.
Mrs. Hayman noticed my disapproval. “You have a problem with that, Miss Reid?”
The correct response would have been a demure‘no.’But for some reason my brain disregarded logic. Too much had happened in the past few days, my world turned upside down with my best friend dating my crush, my parents leaving me behind to be with my brother, and on top of that some ancient substitute teacher had written me up for insubordination. It was all so grossly unfair!
“Even my friends think Mrs. Fox overreacted,” I said, the words pouring out with unfiltered honesty. “I didn’t do anything wrong except stand up for myself.”
“Well, according to Mrs. Fox, you did it in a rude and disrespectful manner.” Mrs. Hayman wasn’t backing down an inch either. If anything, her stance appeared to harden. “I believe your parents are abroad at the moment?” she queried.
“Yes, they left today,” I said, hoping that my connection to Paris might make her more lenient. “They’re traveling with my brother to some tennis tournaments.”
“I’ve got Dani Sinclair listed as your guardian.”
“Yes, I’m staying with the Sinclairs.” I didn’t know why that line of questioning was relevant, but then it hit me that this could be an issue. “But there’s no need to tell Dani about this, is there?”
Mrs. Hayman flashed a smile, about as sincere as the letter I’d written. “There are protocols that have to be followed, Valencia. Remember, Miss Creighton will be expecting you tomorrow after school,” she said, guiding me out with her hand on my shoulder.
I was about to ask if Dani Sinclair really needed to know about this, but that’s when I saw Jade Sinclair sitting outside Mrs. Wainwright’s office.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, a sense of doom falling over me. There were obviously no secrets at Covington Prep.
Jade stood to his full six foot two height. And, dang it, he smelled good again. So good. But my heart plummeted, my worst fears confirmed when he said, “Apparently I’m here to bail you out.”
Chapter 8
JADE
“You don’t have to give me a ride home,” Valencia said, striding down the hallway with purpose, her long legs trying to overtake me. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely not your babysitter, but hey, I’m going home now, and so are you, so why not ride with me?”
I pushed open the door, causing her to pause. I gestured for her to go first and she hurried past me, murmuring thanks. Mom had texted me in last period to ask if it was possible for me to bring Valencia home, that Vice Principal Hayman had contacted her over a ‘minor’ incident. I’d noticed Valencia come into Study Hall mid lesson, but I didn’t pay much attention. Often at the beginning of semester kids were still figuring out their class schedules, but seemed she’d been in some sort of trouble.
“So, what happened back there? In Hayman’s office?”
She had surged ahead, but at my question, Valencia stopped and waited for me—and proceeded to go on a rant. “The sub sent me out of class on a discipline slip. She’s like 90 years old and said I’d disrupted the class because I corrected the way she said my name and didn’t give her my phone. What a joke! It’s not like I had drugs, or a knife or threw a chair at anyone.”
Wow, I’d never seen Valencia fired up before, but it’s like she was ready to boil over.
“Talk about an overreaction. Now I have to stay after school and help in the art room for a whole week. Mrs. Fox should be in a retirement village. And she probably needs hearing aids.”
“Mrs. Fox? I don’t think she’s that bad,” I said.
“She is!” Valencia disagreed strongly, scrunching her nose in a cute way. “She’s about a hundred years old.”
I shouldn’t have found it funny, but I couldn’t stop a snort of laughter. “You know you aren’t supposed to use your phone in class, right?” I pointed out.
“Mrs. Bullock lets us keep our phones,” she said adamantly, “and besides it was Paris’s fault. He’d been sending me photos of the plane leaving.”
“They’re on their way now?”
“As we speak,” she huffed.
“Hey, over this way,” I nodded in the direction of my truck. Valencia had a moment of indecision, like she’d remembered she didn’t want a ride.
But right then my name was called across the parking lot, a bunch of my friends hanging around Weston’s car.
