One Tiny Secret

Chapter Twelve

As I’m leaving the computer lab I hear the crackle of the school’s intercom. There seems to be some kind of discussion going on in the background of the principal’s office where the microphone is. Then it quiets and the principal’s voice comes through loud and clear.

“Will Danielle Marks please report to the principal’s office? I repeat, will Danielle Marks please report to the principal’s office? Thank you.”

“What the hell? Oh my god, the video! Please tell me this is not about the video,” I murmur to myself, feeling nauseous.

I can’t even begin to describe the sensations that course through me as I make my way to the front office. Dread is pretty much the first thing that enters my mind. Then I think about Parker and what it would do to him if that video gets out. My dad would kill him, Mr. Whitman would kill him, and the principal would kill him—after killing me first, of course.

Rory and Alex come up next to me, flanking me on either side. Just like moths to a flame, the two of them flock to gossip.

“What did you do?” they both ask.

“I don’t know,” I lie, and when I get the stares, I realize they’re not buying it.

“Seriously?” Rory’s eyes pin mine as we come to a halt. I see Alex hovering next to him, sending me the same look.

“Yeah, seriously.” I try to sound convincing, but apparently that fails.

“Uhhh, just a tip, Dani. You might want to work on the whole lying bit before you go into that office,” Rory says with a pinch of sass, which is odd because he’s usually so manly. Alex bobs her head right next to his agreeing with the statement.

“Should we work out an escape plan if things get heated in there?” Alex jokes.

“I’m not even sure this is a bad thing, guys. I don’t know why I was called in…seriously.”

“There you go. You’ve already gotten better at lying. Let’s go with that,” Rory chuckles. I just roll my eyes and reach for the office door handle. They both begin to hum the Funeral March as I enter the office, and I can’t help but laugh a little. Those two always keep me so entertained.

The moment I come to stand in the front office, my serious face returns. I’m met with the head receptionist pointing to the principal’s office door down the hall. The look she sends my way leaves me frightened. She’s like the judge before the executioner, and her face tells me I’m about to be guillotined.

My feet feel like they’re encased in concrete as I slog toward the big red door at the end of the hallway. Well, technically it’s brown, but in my head right now it’s a deep, dark red—for obvious bad reasons. The video of Parker and me streams in my head, and I can’t shake it. The thought of having to talk about it with someone other than Parker just makes me want to vomit nervousness all over this hall. That was such a private moment, and it could turn into the death of us.

My hand shakes as I reach for the handle of the red (actually brown) door. As I begin to turn it, my hand stops, and for some reason, won’t finish what it started. The door flies open and I let out a gasp. I should have let out more, because the sight behind the door is enough to make me keel over. Not only is Mr. Clarkson sitting behind his desk with arms crossed and everything, but standing next to him is my father, also with his arms crossed.

This is it. This is how I’m going to die—right here standing in front of me. I’m so distracted by the intimidating presences before me that I don’t even notice that Deputy Samson was the one who opened the door. I really don’t like that guy, and something tells me by the look on his face that the feeling’s mutual.

“Dani, please take a seat,” Mr. Clarkson says as I enter the room.

“Where to?” I ask, trying to make a poor pass at humor. Sometimes stupid jokes just pour out of me when I’m nervous. I shudder when not even the slightest bit of a smile appears on any of their faces. I’m totally and utterly dead.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mr. Clarkson states to my dad as he stands up, sends me an eyebrow raise, and passes by me out of the office.

I hear me father let out a low grumble as he hikes up his utility belt and takes a seat in front of me. He doesn’t say anything to me—not even a “How are you?” Nothing. Actually, he’s having a hard time even looking me in the eyes right now, and this causes my nerves to jump into overdrive.

Deputy Samson directs me to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. He tries to touch me, but I pull away from his grimy hands. Like I said, I really don’t like him. I drop down into the chair and scoot it closer to the desk, waiting for my dad to say anything, but instead he just lets out another growl as he digs into his pants pocket.

He tosses a little plastic bag on to the desk right in front of me. It appears to have something in it. A folded piece of paper slides behind it quickly after.

“Read it,” are his first words since I entered the room.

My hand brushes past the little plastic bag in order to grab the piece of paper. Through the writing on the bag, I see what seems to be a small piece of pink jewelry inside that eerily reminds me of my skull-and-crossbones earrings.

“Is that my earring?” I ask, but the question is ignored and I’m directed once more to read the piece of paper.

“Okay,” I mutter and then unfold the paper one section at a time. My palms are sweating, making the paper damp in my hands. Scanning the white page, I notice some printed computer text right in the center of it. As I begin to read it in my head, my eyes widen with dismay. Another low grumble from my dad takes me away from the note.

“Aloud, please,” he orders.

I take a moment to myself before I read the sentence. Licking my lips, I prepare to face the questions I’m sure to receive after reading this out loud.

“Your daughter is not as innocent as she appears to be, Sheriff.”

I raise my eyes to him and am smacked down by the parental glare. If his tongue was a blade, it would be poking through his cheek right about now. To be honest, even though I know I’m going to die because of this, I’m glad it’s not about the video. Just sayin’.

I try to say something, but I’m stopped short by my father pushing the plastic bag closer to me. “Can you please enlighten me as to why Deputy Samson here received this little item and that note in the wee hours of the morning?”

“I have no ide—”

“Don’t lie to me, Dani. You’ve been doing that plenty lately. That’s your earring in the bag, is it not?” he interrupts me with his thunderous voice.

“Maybe. I don’t know. They were both on my nightstand last night.”

I stop as I become flustered. First, I was toyed with this morning by a video, and now I’m getting grilled by my dad. What a perfect day this has turned out to be. Then a very scary thought suddenly hits me.

This person was in my room. That’s the only way they could’ve taken the earring.

“I want you to be straight with me, Dani. Do you have any idea why someone would send these items to the station?”

I take in a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed. My hands tremble at my sides and a slew of thoughts run through my head. I try to come up with an explanation, but I keep coming back to the unknown person.

“I’ve been getting weird texts from an unknown number ever since the party. I don’t know who this person is, or why they’re doing this, Dad. They probably sent these things,” I blurt out.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” he asks. I can feel the anger in his voice like a flame beside my face. “Let me see your phone.”

I dig into my pocket and remove my cell. Staring at it for a second, I try to remember if there are any incriminating texts from the unknown person, or if they’re all just cryptic.

“The phone,” my dad orders with his hand extended.

I hand it over and my stomach sinks because I can’t remember all the texts that were sent. A lump forms in my throat and my mouth feels like it’s full of sand. I begin to nibble at my fingernails and hear my mom’s voice in my head telling me to stop. She loathes the fact that I chew my nails when I get nervous or stressed, and never passes up an opportunity to remind me of that.

I study my dad’s facial expression as he peruses my phone. It hasn’t changed since the moment he began. The frustrated sigh as he hands it back to me isn’t a good sign.

“Well?” I ask, when he doesn’t say anything.

“There are no messages from an unknown number on your phone, Dani,” he replies, slouching back into the chair. It takes me a moment to fully comprehend what he just said.

“What? That’s impossible,” I reply and immediately start scrolling through my phone’s menu for the message tab. Pressing on it, it reveals he’s right. “This can’t be. Dad, I swear there were messages on here from an unknown number. What teenager would lie about having text messages on their phone? Texting is our life.”

“Dammit, Dani. Can you please be serious and quit lying to me?”

“I’m not lying! Stop saying that,” I say, and realize that probably wasn’t the best tone to respond with.

His jaw clenches tight, and I’m pretty sure there’s smoke pouring from his ears and nose, like one of those bulls in a Looney Tunes cartoon.

“Dad, you know me. I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I swear there were messages on this phone from someone trying to mess with me. Please believe me,” I beg, but it seems like it’s fallen on deaf ears.

“You know, I thought I was disappointed in you before, but this is a new low, Dani.”

He won’t even look at me, and my heart cracks in two. Then anger fills me like a roaring fire on the inside, and I just glare at him. I know I get my stubbornness from him, but words can’t even describe how pissed I am right now.

“You may return to class,” he says.

I don’t say a word. I just let out an irritated breath, grab my things, and shove back the chair in a fit of frustration. Deputy Samson tries to stand in my way with a stupid smirk on his face. Damn, I just want to punch him right in the jaw.

“Out of the way, ass.”

“Dani!” I hear my dad chastise from behind me.

Deputy Samson steps to the side with that stupid smirk still present and accounted for as I push toward the door, wrench it open, and then slam it behind me.