“I’m not coming,” I say, getting up.
“You don’t have a choice. It’s mandatory.”
“I’ll have my uncle talk to Principal Edwards. He doesn’t want me coming here anymore.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Brock is behind this? Did he tell you to act this way today?”
“You called him Brock.” I swing my backpack over my shoulder. “I knew you two had a history.”
“We didn’t—” She stops, her lips pursed. “Tell Mr. Halliway I am very disappointed he doesn’t see the benefit in you continuing therapy. You may want to remind him he’s been seeing a therapist every week for the past twenty years.”
“He has?”
“He’ll tell you it’s just something actors do. They all have therapists, which is somewhat true, but regardless, banning you from therapy after losing your mother is just plain wrong. You can tell him I said that.”
“Okay. So are we done here?”
“Yes,” she mutters, getting her purse from the drawer.
We leave her office and she locks it up, then goes out the back door to the staff parking lot. I’m left alone in the empty hallway. Everyone’s gone except the janitor, who’s probably cleaning one of the classrooms.
Getting out my phone, I text Ana, telling her I’m ready to go. I hope she doesn’t take forever to get here. Being alone at this school freaks me out. It already looks like a haunted mansion. Add in the silent hallways and dim evening lighting, and it freaks me out even more.
I go down the admin hall to the main entrance, stopping when I hear a noise. It sounds like someone moaning. Shit. Maybe the place reallyishaunted.
Knowing I should leave but curious what that sound is, I quietly walk down the row of classrooms, stopping when I hear it again. More moaning.
“Oh, God, yes!” a woman says.
I freeze. It’s coming from the classroom just up ahead.
“Fuck, baby, you turn me on,” a man says.
The man almost sounds like — no, that couldn’t be. Could it?
“Harder!” the woman says, sounding breathless. “Yes! More!”
“You want it harder?” the guy says. “I’m gonna pound into you so fucking hard.”
That time, I’m sure of it — it’s Principal Edwards. He must be with the woman he’s having an affair with. Why would he be with her at school? Maybe it’s one of the teachers.
I should get a photo. If I got evidence of Principal Edwards cheating, Kristen would have what she needs to get her mom to divorce him. Then Jackson would be done helping Kristen, and she’d be out of our lives.
I get the camera ready as I slowly walk forward. When I reach the door, which is cracked open, I shove up against the wall, so they won’t see me.
They’re still moaning and panting, and I hear what sounds like a desk scraping against the floor. I lean over and peek into the room.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, then quickly cover my mouth, realizing I said it out loud. I shove back against the wall, my heart racing.
The woman I heard moaning — the one having sex with Principal Edwards — is Kristen.
She’s topless, but wearing her uniform skirt, bent over a desk with Principal Edwards behind her, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her. He’s not forcing her to do this. She wants it.
“Harder,” she says, panting. “Don’t stop. Yeah, baby. Right there.” She moans. “I love how you know what I like.”
“You know I’d do anything for you.” He groans. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight.”
“Touch me,” she demands. “Grab my ass.”
