It’s over. Everything is over. There’s nothing I can do to save myself. I’m sinking into the deep and dark. My limbs are lead. I’m well and truly defeated.
And then, suddenly, the anger finds me. And I let it swallow me whole.
I’m going to go down, that much is clear. No school will have me, not now that I’m about to get expelled from Draycott. My future is over. There’s no saving me. But I’m not going to go down alone. I won’t be the next Sophie, self-destructing because of Mr. Werner. I’m taking him down with me.
Chapter 14
It’s very nearly noon when I resurface from my trance and decide I’m about to rain hell on Mr. Werner’s life. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I have to do something. Something to quell this fire raging inside me, the hatred that drives all my thoughts. Something to avenge Sophie’s death. It’s painfully clear to me that she overdosed because of him, because he drove her to it, and I can’t possibly let him get away with it.
I look up his schedule, my teeth grinding at the sight of his name on the school roster. God, I hate him. Now I know what it’s like to truly hate someone, to despise them with every fiber of your soul. I scroll through DD, unsure what I’m looking for, but lapping up everything ever posted about Mr. Werner and Sophie. Just as I had expected, there are dozens of posts, a couple of them with hundreds of comments, about Sophie. Only a handful of posts are sympathetic, the majority are more on the vein of gleeful shock-horror, people shamelessly trying to troll for more information to use as gossip fodder. I close the app, feeling sicker and angrier than before.
At lunchtime, my phone buzzes.
From: Danny Wijaya
Hey, I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry about last night, and I’m sorry I wasn’t more helpful about the ledger stuff. Are you coming to lunch? Would love to be able to talk about everything.
I smile sadly. I start typing: No. I’m getting kicked out. Mandy Kim and her friends filed some bullshit reports about me bullying them, and between that and your uncle, I’m done here. But then I hit Delete. I look at the blank screen. I just. I don’t have it in me to get into everything with Danny right now.
From: Lia Setiawan
I’m not feeling great, I think I have food poisoning.
From: Danny Wijaya
Oh no! Can I get you anything? Do you have Norit?
From: Lia Setiawan
Of course I have Norit. What kind of Indo would I be if I didn’t have it?
From: Danny Wijaya
Ok. I’ll come by after class.
Crap. He can’t do that.
From: Lia Setiawan
No, don’t bother, I’ll probably be napping. And I don’t want you to catch whatever I have. I’ll see you tomorrow!
I spend the rest of the afternoon pacing about my room again, opening and closing my hands, talking myself into and out of and into my crazy plan. At 3:55 p.m., I wait outside of Collings. I lurk around the corner and pretend to look at my phone while scanning the faces of people trickling out of the building. I wish I could cover my head, but wearing something like a hat or a hoodie would only make me stand out here.
Finally, I catch a glimpse of brown tweed and blond hair. I stuff my phone in my pocket and follow Mr. Werner, careful to keep some distance between us. Even this far away, the sight of him ignites the hatred inside me. I want to rush up and strangle him. Somehow, I manage to wrestle those instincts to the ground and focus instead on my plan. No brown leather ledger, but he is carrying his briefcase. Maybe the ledger’s in there.
We walk past the tennis courts, all of which have been booked out by students. Their steady whacks and occasional shouts make me feel even more bitter, more untethered. I should be like them, spending my afternoons running and playing with my schoolmates, instead of literally stalking my teacher.
Finally, we arrive at the teachers’ parking lot, which is deserted. Mr. Werner takes out his car remote, and a hundred feet away, a champagne-colored Nissan beeps to life and unlocks.
Now! my mind screams. I hide behind a tree, take out my phone, almost dropping it thanks to sweaty hands, and send a message I drafted earlier in the day. Less than a second later, Mr. Werner’s phone beeps. He takes it out of his pocket and looks at it. I memorized the message I just sent, and I wish I could see his hateful face as he reads it.
“Mr. Werner, this is Janice from the admin office. Mandy’s mother, Mrs. Alicia Kim, is here to see you regarding an urgent matter.”
Succinct, believable, and totally, undeniably unignorable. I couldn’t hide my number, but I’m hoping the thought of Mandy’s mom waiting in his office would be enough to shock Mr. Werner into rushing back. Sure enough, as I watch, Mr. Werner curses out loud and then turns and heads back toward campus.
No time to hesitate. I sprint from behind the tree to his car. My heart explodes into a gallop. Oh god, oh god, what am I doing—
I ease the back door open and crawl inside. Lean over the front seat—shit, where’s the trunk release button—there. I pop the trunk open and hurry out of the car, my heart in my throat, my hands slick with sweat. It’s got to be there. It’s not in his house, and after last night, he must have removed it from his office, so it must be here, it MUST.
The trunk’s empty. No ledger. Hope crumbles to ash inside me. I close my eyes. That leaves his briefcase, which he still has on him. God. Why can’t something go smoothly for once? I want to sink to my knees and burst into tears. I slam his trunk shut, not bothering to be quiet about it. Let him catch me at his car; what do I have to lose?
Just as I’m about to close the back door, something comes over me. Something wild and dangerous, snaking its way through my guts and all the way down my arms and legs. I find myself sliding back inside the car and curling up as small as possible on the back floor. I pull the door closed behind me, and I’m cocooned in sudden, complete silence.
Oh my god. What am I doing? I can’t be here. I can’t, I should go, I need to get out of here.
But my body refuses to comprehend. Or maybe my brain refuses to send the necessary messages to get my body the heck out of Mr. Werner’s car. I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore. What’s the new plan, genius? The new plan is—
New plan.
Okay.
New plan: The ledger’s clearly inside his briefcase, which he’s still carrying. I’ll hide in the car until we get to Mr. Werner’s house, and then I’ll steal out and go inside his house while he’s in the shower or his study room or whatever, and then I’ll grab the ledger out of his briefcase and then get a Lyft back to Draycott, where I will slam the ledger on Mrs. Henderson’s stupid mahogany desk and tell her to read it, and then I’ll watch as that smug expression melts off her stupid plastic face and gets replaced by the perfect combination of shocked horror and shame. Maybe I’ll bring a little bell so I can pull a Game of Thrones moment and shout “shame” while she reads it.
New Plan is good. I’m going to carry out New Plan.