The other girls dissolve in laughter, and Ella’s face goes red. That gesture—it’s not a thing she’s done with a guy, not a thing she wants to do with Hayden, and definitely not a thing she wants to discuss with anyone else.
“I mean, I got him some cologne and was going to bake him a cake, but go off,” she says, trying and failing to match the brassy, bold, manic way they talk.
Sophie puts her hand on Ella’s shoulder, her perfect eyebrows drawing together. “Okay, but seriously, though, you know guys expect that, right? I know Hayden is your first, but…” Sophie giggles. “You kind of have to.”
Ella steps out from under the other girl’s hand. “I don’t have to do anything.”
Olivia shrugs a shoulder and applies another layer of gloss. “You do if you want to keep him.”
If only she knew how unthreatening that threat is. Take him, if you want him, she wants to say. But she won’t, because by the time he’s in her passenger seat this afternoon, he’ll be asking her why everyone’s saying she doesn’t love him anymore.
“You do want to be his girlfriend, right?” Now it’s Sophie’s turn to swoop in, her brown eyes wide and innocent, like she’s only worried about Ella’s feelings.
Ella swallows hard; it’s like being stabbed in the front and the back at the same time. She remembers when they were younger and actually confided in one another, when they swapped secrets and talked about crushes as these far-off possibilities. When they told one another the truth. She remembers Olivia crying, swearing she would never be like her mother, with a different boyfriend every year, supporting an endless stream of out-of-work losers. Now Olivia has a different boyfriend every month. And Sophie was so angry about her parents’ divorce, furious with her mom for cheating with another married man and her dad for just walking out. Now she’s spending time with Ella’s boyfriend behind her back and proud of it. What happened to them? When did they go from girls to bitches? And why didn’t Ella notice it happening?
At that last slumber party, emboldened by their own secrets, Ella told them about her parents, about what her dad did to her mom at night. Even though she could tell neither girl believed her, they hugged her and cried with her and swore she would never be like that, would never let a man have that much power over her.
And she won’t. Sometimes it’s easier to just go along, but Hayden doesn’t own her, doesn’t control her. One day soon, he’ll dump her for someone else, and then she’ll get all the sympathy and none of the catty looks and whispers. Until then…
“Of course I want to be his girlfriend.” She giggles and applies her own lip gloss. “He’s pretty much perfect for me.”
The other girls exchange a glance she doesn’t quite understand but doesn’t like, and Ella checks her phone. The bell is about to ring, which means she needs to hurry to class, as Mr. Harkey hates lateness.
“Can you give me a ride home?” Sophie asks.
“Well, I’m already taking Hayden—”
“Time for more sexytimes!” Olivia croons.
“Ladies?”
The mood in the restroom changes with that one word spoken softly from the hallway. Olivia and Sophie drop their reckless, bold, party-girl personas and are just teenagers again. All three girls instinctively huddle together, nervous and clumsy as antelopes.
“The bell is about to ring,” Mr. Brannen says, leaning into the restroom, both hands in his pockets and feet still technically in the hall.
Their vice principal is known for this, for cornering girls in tight spots when they’re supposed to be somewhere else. He’s blocking the only exit now, and as the bell rings, he looks up at the speaker in the ceiling, knowing and almost apologetic.
“And there it is. Looks like you three are going to be late to class. Unless you have a good excuse.”
Mr. Brannen is her dad’s age, maybe, with a belly that strains against his shirt buttons. His hair is thinning, and he wears ugly, pointy shoes, and when his flat brown eyes crawl over her, Ella wants to curl up and die. She’s heard stories about him, especially since he divorced his wife, but they’re always secondhand.
“I’m not feeling so good,” Olivia says with an exaggerated sniffle.
“Oh, I bet the boys will still kiss you. I know I would!” Mr. Brannen winks and grins. “But if you need to go to the nurse’s office, go on. The health of our student bodies is our highest priority.” Olivia shuffles past him, and he knocks out his hip just enough to touch her. “What’s your excuse, Miss Gibson?”
“I started my period early.” Ella is impressed with how Sophie sticks out her chin and glares defiantly.
“TMI, Miss Gibson, TMI. Did you know the pill can help with regulating your cycle? To avoid unpleasant surprises.”
“Yes, sir,” Sophie says, hurrying past him. “Thanks to health class.” She doesn’t even look over her shoulder in apology as she leaves Ella all alone.
Mr. Brannen’s hands move around in his pockets like he’s playing with loose change. “Miss Martin. One of my favorite students. Good grades, no disciplinary actions. But I’ve heard a rumor.” He steps closer, cups a hand around his mouth as he whispers. “Have you been experimenting with PDA in our humble hallways?” He steps back, grinning like he’s pleased with himself. “You know that’s not allowed.”
“I—no, sir. I won’t. I mean I haven’t.” Ella knows her face is red, knows she’s a bad liar, but she can’t bring herself to tell the truth.
Mr. Brannen leans back against the wall, his jacket falling open to show a zipper only halfway up. “It’s normal for girls your age to experiment. Why, in the Middle Ages, you’d already be married with children.” He winks again. “And in some states and cultures, you’d be considered quite a catch at your age.”
Ella is stunned and disgusted and can’t think of a single reasonable response to an adult man telling her that, much less one who holds her entire future in his hands. But apparently her input is not necessary, as he keeps talking.
“I know it’s exciting, but let’s try not to break any rules. If I catch you ‘macking with your bf,’ as they say, you’ll owe me a Saturday-morning detention, which happens in my office and at my discretion. You need to learn what happens to girls who break the rules.”
Ella swallows hard because the only alternative is dry heaving.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiles and nods, calm and certain and pleased. “I always did like the sound of that. Yes, sir. One of the many perks of the job. Now get to class, Miss Martin. And if your teacher asks where you were, just tell her you were with me.”
Ella can only nod as she hurries out the door, knowing she can’t avoid touching some part of him and hoping it’ll just be his hip. She’s pretty sure that was his hand drifting past her butt, but it was so quick she can’t quite be sure. That’s how it always is with Mr. Brannen—everything he says feels totally inappropriate and gross, but if it was repeated to the counselor or the police, it could be written off as normal and innocent, as just another girl being histrionic over nothing.