He looks up from his desk. “Yes. Come on in.”
We go inside and sit on the high-backed, dark wood chairs across from the principal’s desk. My eyes immediately go to the framed photo of him with Kristen and a woman who I assume is her mom. She has Kristen’s blonde hair but a rounder face and lips that look like they’ve had one too many injections.
“I think we all know why we’ve had to gather here this evening,” Principal Edwards says. “Rumor, would you like to start?”
“What do you want me to say?” I look at him across the desk. “That I’m sorry for hitting your spoiled, rude—”
“What Rumor means to say,” Brock interrupts, sitting up straighter, “is that she is immensely sorry for her behavior and can assure you it will never happen again.”
“I’d like to hear it from her, please,” Principal Edwards says, his eyes going back to me.
“I’m not sorry,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “She was threatening me. Calling me names. I wasn’t just going to stand there and do nothing.”
Brock’s brows draw together. “Threatening you? You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“You didn’t give me a chance.”
“How did she threaten you?” Principal Edwards asks in a condescending tone, like he doesn’t believe me.
“She told me to stay away from her friends. And if I didn’t, she’d make me.”
It’s not entirely true. She didn’t say that last part, but it was implied. She made it clear I wasn’t to see Jackson anymore, and she said it in a threatening way.
“And how would she make you?” Principal Edwards asks.
I shrug. “Spread lies about me? Get people to hate me? Who knows? The point is she was trying to tell me I can’t be friends with certain people, and I don’t put up with that.”
“What people?” he asks. “Who specifically are you referring to?”
“Braden’s friends,” I say, lying, although technically, Jackson used to be Braden’s friend, so it’s somewhat true.
“The football players,” Principal Edwards says. “Is that who you mean?”
“Yes. They invited me to sit at their table, which Kristen didn’t like. She didn’t want me there. Apparently I haven’t earned my place.”
“Is that what she said?”
“No, but she kept making comments about me being there, as though I shouldn’t be.”
“It sounds like you’re assuming a lot of things that aren’t actually true. Perhaps you misread the situation?” he asks, his brows rising.
“I didn’t misread it. Kristen doesn’t like me. She doesn’t want me in her group with all the popular people, so she told me to get out. It’s as simple as that.”
“That’s not a reason to punch someone,” Principal Edwards says. “You could’ve discussed this with her, especially given all the assumptions you’re making. Kristen is a very nice girl. Ask anyone at Twisted Pine and they’ll tell you she’s very pleasant. She has many friends here.”
He can’t be that stupid, can he? Does he really believe she’s a perfect little angel? He lives with her. She was fighting with him just this morning.
He knows what she’s really like. He’s just saying all this to make it seem likeI’mthe problem, not his stepdaughter.
“If she’s as nice as you say, she wouldn’t have called me a trashy orphan,” I point out.
“If she did indeed call you that, she certainly didn’t mean it,” he says. “Words tend to come out unintended when tempers flare. But words don’t inflict physical harm the way a fist does.”
“How is Kristen doing?” Brock asks. “What was the extent of her injuries?”
“We don’t know yet,” Principal Edwards says. “For now, the doctor bandaged her up enough to stop the bleeding. In the morning, her mother will take her to her plastic surgeon in Los Angeles to assess if she’ll need surgery.”
“Surgery?” I huff. “Are you kidding? I barely hit her! At most, she has a bloody nose. She’s making up fake injuries so everyone will feel sorry for her.”
