He tilts his head, frowning, and my stomach flips and flops. I have no idea what he wants me to say, so I say nothing.
Finally, he sighs again and folds his arms. “Mara, a student—?a student who will remain nameless at their request—?came to me earlier today and informed me that you’ve been cheating off their papers for several months.”
“What? I haven’t—”
“They said you copied off their homework and their tests. They didn’t come forward sooner because they were concerned they’d be in trouble. And you’re well liked, Mara. I think this person was scared I wouldn’t believe them.”
My mind whirls, thinking about who could’ve said this. We sit in rows, one behind the other, and I’ve barely ever talked to the two people I’ve sat next to all semester. Gabriel something, who’s so shy I’ve never actually heard his voice, and Jackson West, who, if I’m being honest, sucks at math.
“But I didn’t. I swear I didn’t cheat,” I say. Prealgebra isn’t my favorite subject, but I’m decent at it. I’m not great at tests in general, but I’ve gotten mostly Bs, bumping my grades up to As the past couple of months because I actually started studying my notes at home before tests instead of only paying attention during class. I’ve even helped Owen with a few of the harder concepts, and he has the easier teacher, Ms. Sparks.
Mr. Knoll holds his hand out for the tests. I pass them back, my thoughts in knots as he looks over them again.
“Mara, I’m sorry. But these grades are significantly higher scores than your previous tests.”
“I know. Because I—”
He holds up his hand. “This is fixable. I won’t fail you if you’re willing to put in a little work.”
“Fail me?”
“I can’t pass someone who’s been fabricating her test scores for more than half the semester.”
I gape at him, trying to figure out what is actually happening. “I don’t understand,” I say, barely a whisper.
He nods, his expression sympathetic, but then his eyes travel from my legs up my body. I’m dressed in jeans and a baggy Butler sweatshirt. The air outside today is cool for May and it’s raining. Plus, I feel safe in this sweatshirt, my already C-cup boobs hidden underneath the soft burgundy cotton. But the way Mr. Knoll looks at me now knots up my stomach. I feel suddenly naked, and a tiny warning flares in the back of my mind, but I don’t know what it means. Mr. Knoll is a teacher and I’m in my school. What is there to be afraid of?
“It’s really simple, Mara,” he says. “I’m disappointed in you, but I know you’re better than this. Regardless, you’re at risk of failing this semester, and unless you’re willing to work with me, you’ll have to repeat the course in summer school.”
“Summer school? But . . . I understand everything I’ve learned in this class. And it’s the last day of school. Why—”
“Despite the cheating, you’ve been distracted, too focused on summer and high school. I think you’d benefit from repeating the course.”
“But all my teachers have been telling me to focus on high school,” I say.
Irritation flickers in his eyes. “Nonetheless, we still have a problem. Are you willing to work with me on this? I assume you don’t want to spend the summer stuck in a classroom.”
“No! I mean, yes, I’ll work hard. What do I need to do?”
He inhales slowly through his nose. “Nothing too difficult, I hope.” We stare at each other for a few moments and I’m not sure what to do. Something feels off, but I’m too freaked out by the fact that one of my favorite teachers thinks I’m actually a cheater and a liar.
“Come here,” Mr. Knoll says, and I take a step closer. He watches me, a look in his eyes I can’t name. “Good girl.”
My heart slams against my ribs as my teacher’s hands go to his belt buckle, his thumbs hooking around the silver rectangle and undoing it.
“I think we can fix this right now, don’t you, Mara?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
His forefinger goes to the button on his pants and my mouth goes dry, questions filling me up.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Be quiet,” he says.
Tears spring into my eyes. His voice is still soft, just as nice as it always is in class, but something edges his words, his tone. Something too soft, like a secret he doesn’t want anyone to know about. Goose bumps break out all over my skin, the bad kind. The warning kind.
His fingers flick the button free and it’s then that I notice a telltale bulge in his crotch. The kind of bulge that boys laugh about during gym and girls giggle over in the locker room. Shock blasts through me in a cold rush. I try to take a step back, to run for the door, but I’m frozen, unbelieving eyes wide open and stinging.
