Page 56 of Ruse
I head over to the principal’s office, which I know will be a waste of time. Here at MC High, the students don’t get in trouble by the faculty and especially don’t receive any form of punishment. Their parents' paychecks and generous donations keep this place up and running, and with substantial contributions comes no responsibility. If anything, my trip to visit Principal Rutherford is a simple courtesy. He’ll send me back to class with a warning and a promise to do better, and I’ll be on my way.
Except I’ll be on my way out of the school and to my meeting with Brett.
Walking down the long empty hallway toward the front office, my black boots squeak against the polished white marble floors as I reach the two double doors leading into the school’s front office. Not a soul is out of class, just me and the light gray and teal emblem of a great white shark painted at my feet, our school mascot Poseidon.
“Good afternoon, Margarette,” I call out to the older woman behind the front desk as I enter and let the doors slam shut behind me. Her graying blond hair is combed into large spiral curls pinned up in an old Hollywood style, and the bright red stain on her thin, wrinkled lips adds to the rumor she was an actress before becoming Principal Rutherford’s assistant principal.
“Nice to see you again Mr. Carter, although not under these circumstances,” Margarette grunts, shaking her head as she looks down at the cell phone in her hand. “Kelly let me know the quite colorful language you used in her class earlier, and I have to say that was a bit harsh even for you, son.”
Shit, that I wasn’t expecting. I must give Mrs. Thomas some credit, the old hag has some balls, and it seems she wants me hung by mine. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you out of this one, darling. She’s filing a formal complaint.”
“Come on Marge, you really think Dick in there is going to risk pissing off Daddy Dearest for some silly pink slip.” She rolls her eyes cause she knows I’m one hundred percent right. There is no one Richard Rutherford is more afraid of than Mathieu Carter.
“Have a seat Maverick, I have to at least pretend to keep you in here longer than two minutes.”
I smirk wide at Marge, who rolls her eyes in annoyance yet can’t hide the smile creeping at the edge of her lips. I blow her a kiss and bow dramatically, thanking her before turning and taking a seat on one of the plush chairs lined up against the back wall. The administration office is set up like a doctor’s waiting room, with two rows of chairs lined up against the walls in an L-shape, and two end tables on each side one with brochures of school admissions, scholarships, and college campuses, while on the other are flyers honoring our current State Champion Football team, and all the various academic accolades MC High’s received in the last decade.
Named the top school on the West Coast for ten straight years, Malibu Cove is determined to live up to its highest potential, and that means keeping its students happy, no matter the cost.
Crossing my legs, I grab one of the flyers on the table to my left-hand side, the one about our reigning champs, and flip it open trying to kill some time before Rutherford steps out to dismiss me. My grin widens when I spot her, there in the middle of the third page, dressed in the minuscule cheer outfit, white pleated miniskirt and matching sports bra with the letters MCH embroidered along the front of the top in teal blue. The edge of the pleated skirt, as well as the trim along the waist and on the edges of the top is a teal and silver metallic color.
My dick throbs at the sight of her looking so fucking sexy. I’ll have to ask her why the hell she quit cheer, because I’d give everything to see her walking down the hall in this getup. Although, it’s the ear-to-ear smile across her lips that does the trick. Whenever this picture was taken, she was happy. Genuinely happy.
That’s not something I’ve seen in her since I came back to Malibu Cove.
A shadow moving in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Shifting my gaze to my right I find a chick sitting three seats away, with her gaze focused on her hands crossed over her lap. I can't see her face, her straight dirty blond hair blocking my view, but it’s the outfit she’s wearing that throws me for a loop. Dressed in black joggers and a matching cropped hoodie, designer no less, yet not the typical uniform of the other chicks around MC High would be caught dead in. I look down on her feet, and yup a pair of white J’s confirm this girl is not like the rest of them. Maybe she’s new.
Dying of boredom, I walk over to her, taking a seat on the chair to her left. “There’s no detention,” I mumble under my breath, making her jolt at the sound of my voice and I’m not sure if it was because she was asleep or if she’s just that jittery.
“What?” she asks, clearly not having heard what I’d said. I reach over and tuck her hair behind her left ear. Nope, no headphones in.
She falls back at my contact, her green eyes bugging wide as if she’s just noticed I’m sitting right next to her. “You can calm down, there is no detention for whatever it is you did that made you get sent to the principal’s office.”
“I didn’t…”
I chuckle at her denial. It’s cute, but it’s obvious whatever it is she did, this is her first offense. “You’ve been bouncing your leg up and down for the past ten minutes, not to mention how you’re fiddling your fingers on your lap and are biting your lip so damn hard I can see a speck of blood forming on the tip.”
Her fingers move to her mouth, her thumb rubbing along her bottom lip wiping the spots of blood. She wipes her thumb on her joggers. “I’m not used to getting into trouble.”
I can tell, but I don’t say it out loud at the risk of sounding like a total jerk and making her more anxious than she already is.
“So, what’d you do?” I ask, but she just stares up at me bewildered by my question.
“I did nothing. My best friend, however, thought it would be funny to kiss me all to make some chick who’s become obsessed with him jealous.”
My laughter deepens at the innocence of her offense. “You’re here because he kissed you?” I ask, making sure I heard correctly since I don’t get the big deal. Hell, I see people making out daily in the halls and in the courtyard during passing periods.
“We’re always pranking each other. I’ve known him my whole life, and that’s just the relationship we have, but we’re strictly platonic, he’s like the big brother I never had…”
“Ouch,” I mutter interrupting her.
“No, he’s totally cool with that. He doesn't like me either, but this girl in my Chem class has been talking nonstop about how they supposedly hooked up this summer and she’s all in love with him, and honestly it was annoying the hell out of me, so I told him he had to do something about it.” She pauses but I get the feeling she’s not done talking.
Turns out this chick’s a chatterbox, and suddenly I regret coming over to talk to her. I look toward the front desk hoping Marge will give me an out, but her gaze is glued to something on her computer screen. Looks like I’m on my own.
“The idiot thinks it’s a good idea to walk into our Chem class, straight over to my desk, and kisses me right in the middle of Ms. Hollis’s lesson.”
“Ahh, makes sense now,” I utter in understanding. Kissing in the middle of class would probably irritate the faculty, though again, not reason for any type of corporal punishment.
