I was trying not to look at her while she had her hand under her shirt, fumbling around. I could still see her in the reflection of the window, however. I closed my eyes.
She probably wasn’t looking at you. She was probably photoshopping it or cropping it to show only the girls.
But what if she had been looking at me?
You need to get it together.
Sproing!
“Ow!” Something sharp hit me on the cheek.
“Oh shit!” Tess said, one hand still under the shirt that now gaped open right at boob level.
She disentangled herself then crawled to the floor of the car, looking for the safety pin. I stared up at the ceiling so that my brain wouldn’t start supplying me with images of how it would feel to fuck her when she was on all fours like that.
You are under a lot of stress, I reminded myself.You need to sleep more. You don’t even like Tess. She’s loud and obnoxious and messy. You really need to fire her.
And once I fired her, then I would be free and clear to fuck her.
Or not.
“Found it!” Tess declared.
She finished pinning the safety pin on her shirt as we drove up in front of the school.
“I can’t believe they’re suspending the girls on the first day,” she said, stepping out of the car. She reeked of coffee and sugar. I tried not to stare at her chest as she ran her hands through her tangled hair as we walked into the building.
The girls were waiting for us in the headmistress’s office. Disheveled with skinned knees, snarled ponytails, and ripped uniforms, it was obvious they had been fighting.
“Honestly, Mr. Svensson,” the headmistress said. “They almost started a riot in the cafeteria. That is not how girls should behave.”
“Girls can fight,” Tess said hotly.
I tried to shush her.
“Don’t shush me,” she snapped, turning on me. “They need to know they can defend themselves. Who was bullying you?” Tess demanded.
“No one,” Enola said sourly.
“Enola,” I warned, “you can’t just fight people for no reason.”
“I had a good reason!” she insisted then clamped her mouth shut.
“You can tell me,” Tess coaxed.
But Enola shook her head.
“Since no one will tell me why this was a justified incident, both girls will be suspended for ten days,” the headmistress declared.
Shoot, I had thought it would only be for a few days.
“While you are on your suspension, you can write a detailed essay about why fighting is unbecoming of girls of your social class.” The headmistress’s lip curled. “But then what could we expect, given the status of their closest female influence.”
“I’ll have you know,” Tess said, “that this is a very expensive coffee that I spilled all over myself, thank you very much, and one that I really could not afford but I bought it anyways.”
“Where are they? Where are my granddaughters? Headmistress, I demand you allow me to see my granddaughters! Ah, there you are, girls!”
An older woman with a shellacked beehive of white hair on her head, wearing a vintage Chanel suit and pearl earrings, surveyed the room. A nervous-looking social worker hovered at her elbow.
