Bite Me! (9 page)

“I dunno. I don't guess so. I haven't checked it yet. Why?”

“Do you remember the announcement that all school-related issues would be emailed to the students? We're cutting back on paper memorandums as much as possible, as part of the green initiative started by last year's student council.”

“Oh, yeah. I totally think that rocks, too.”

“Well then, why haven't you checked your email?”

“I guess with everything going on, I just forgot. Did I miss something?”

Mr. Charles sighed. “Betty, I really think we need to cut her a break. With Noah's death and everything.”

My face warmed as it pinked. “Cut me a break for what? What's going on? I haven't done anything.” Had I?

“Mr. Charles,” Mrs. Blanchard chastised. “She's the only candidate who did not follow the rules. If we do as you suggest and ‘cut her a break,' we are doing a disservice to those students who made sure they followed the rules to the letter.”

“What rules? Would someone please tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?” Dread fisted in my stomach again, but this time it was peppered with a whole bunch of panic. What could I have possibly missed?

“AJ, all the candidates for class officer were sent emails regarding the rules for this year's campaign. It seems that some of last year's posters got a little out of hand and the administration decided that all posters had to be preapproved by the class sponsor before they were hung. And you did not get yours preapproved.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. All this drama over campaign posters? Really? Posters I didn't even make. Or ask for? So I was gonna get my hand slapped for putting the posters up before I'd had them approved. I could live with that.

“I'm so sorry I didn't check my email. I had no idea and I promise to have any future posters approved before they're hung. Have you seen any with questionable content? I didn't make them, so I haven't even seen them all
yet. I actually have no idea what they say.” I laughed. It was a little forced, but I was trying to relax.

“We know Ryan made the posters and hung them for you this morning. He came to us when he found out we were going to ask you to take them all down.”

“That's a little drastic, don't you think? I mean, I didn't even know he was gonna do the posters. And I hadn't read the email yet.”

Mr. Charles sat down in the desk next to me. “AJ, we understand what happened. Ryan really went to bat for you. But the rules were established for a reason. And we can't bend on these. If we bend them for you, we have to bend them for everyone.”

“Aren't they more like guidelines?” I asked hopefully.

“No, ma'am. They're chiseled in stone like the commandments.”

“So I have to remove every one of the posters. There are, like, a hundred of them.”

“According to Ryan, there are more like two hundred of them,” Mr. Charles said.

Great. Could this day possibly get any worse?

O
f course it could get worse. Why hadn't I learned that by now?

The thought of removing all those posters was overwhelming to say the least. And even though I knew Ryan had the best intentions, part of me was a little pissed off at the fact that I had to clean up the mess.

Then my Catholic guilt punched me in the heart. Ryan had put up an astronomical number of posters for me because he cared. And if I were a betting girl, I would wager that he had barely even helped Lindsey.

Mrs. Blanchard handed me an excused tardy slip for my next class. I walked down the hall with every intention of removing the posters as I went when I realized
they were already gone.

Huh.

Ryan must've told Malia and Bridget and they'd probably started removing the graffiti while I was in my “meeting.” My friends are made of awesome.

I exited the English building and headed toward study hall with Coach Gerard. He is your typical grown-up jock and pretty cute, if you're into the bulk over brain kinda guy. He isn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but he also isn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

The door creaked when I opened it, and of course every head turned to look. I smiled and waved as I walked over to Coach G. and handed him my tardy slip.

“Mrs. Blanchard, huh? You get busted for illegally parking again, Ashe?” he asked with a laugh.

“Not this time.”

“No, this time she broke a different rule,” Lindsey said with a superior smile that made my eye twitch. “I think it's funny that she's running for class president when she can't even follow the election rules.”

“Ouch. That hurt. I think I'm gonna cry. Can I borrow one of the tissues you stuff in your bra to blow my nose?”

The classroom filled with snickers and snorts as I took my seat. Thankfully, that shut Lindsey up. At least for a little bit.

Okay, I know I was being unfair to Lindsey. The situation we're in sucks, and frankly, I know I shouldn't be so mean to her. But every time she opens her mouth, I find myself projecting all my frustration and jealousy in her direction. I think if I could just “Hulk Smash” her one time, I'd be able to move on.

I couldn't sit still in class. Every few minutes I'd glance toward the windows to see if Noah had left me any more love notes. I tried to distract myself by reading, but the moment I'd start to relax, I would hear a low, gravelly laughter. It must've just been in my head, because nobody else seemed to notice.

Undead Noah was going to drive me out of my mind.

About ten minutes before the bell, the intercom buzzed with Mrs. Blanchard's voice. “Coach Gerard, will you please send AJ Ashe to my office?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Blanchard. What'd you do now, Ashe?”

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out the door. “I have no idea, but I'm sure I'll find out
soon enough.” I glanced over my shoulder to see Lindsey gloating.

I was really beginning to hate that bitch.

 

“Sit down, Ariel.”

All business again. Not a good sign.

I sat down at the table in the corner of the office. “Is this about the posters again? They've already been taken down….”

“No, ma'am. This is something entirely different and much more serious. We're waiting on a couple more people.”

More serious? Oh, God. Was this about Noah? Had they discovered my secret? Would the world soon know that I was a descendant of an evil clan of vamps? Was there a vampire jail?

“Who are we waiting for?” I asked. But Mrs. Blanchard didn't have to say a word because my answer strode through the door carrying a file and wearing a sinister grin.

Mrs. Crandall.

I knew this morning's ray of sunshine act had meant something was up! Wonder what I did this time? Lord knows I couldn't be accused of cheating on yesterday's
blood-forsaken pop quiz since the only question I'd answered was Name.

The old bat sat in the chair just to my left, and Mrs. Blanchard sat to her left, which placed her almost directly across the round table from me. And we waited a little longer.

Gee, nothing like sitting in a big vat of uncomfortable silence topped off with a thick dollop of tension.

Just when I started to open my mouth and ask one more time what the hell was up, the office door opened and in walked Ryan.

Hmmm. I thought this wasn't about the posters?

When Ryan saw me, it was apparent he was just as confused. He sat in the only empty chair and we both waited.

“We're very concerned about some possible impropriety involving you two,” Mrs. Blanchard began.

Of course, when I heard “impropriety,” my thoughts immediately went to making out with my stepbrother. And we totally hadn't done that since before the wedding.

Mrs. Crandall snorted. “That's one way to put it. Miss Ashe, do you care to tell me how it is that your test matched Mr. Fraser's test exactly?”

“Sure,” I said. “Obviously the only question either of us knew the answer to was Name.” I leaned over to Ryan.
“I guess you didn't study, either.”

“No, I studied. I thought I did pretty well,” he said, obviously still very confused.

“Well enough, I'd say,” Mrs. Crandall responded, handing us our test papers.

What the—? I glanced at the paper, and sure enough, not only did our multiple-choice questions match, but the essay was almost word for word the same. And the handwriting was remarkably similar to mine.

“This isn't my test,” I said, handing it back.

“It has your name on it and the essay is in your handwriting.”

“It might appear that way, but that can't be my test. I didn't answer one question. Not. One.”

“You're right. It seems you just helped yourself to Mr. Fraser's answers or he helped himself to yours.”

“No. I'm telling you that I did not answer any questions at all. Not one multiple-choice question and certainly not the essay. I turned in a completely blank test,” I said again, trying to disguise the panic that was creeping into my voice. “Besides, how would it have been possible for me to copy? You moved me across the room, remember?”

“That's a technicality. You seem to make a habit out of lying, Miss Ashe. And with your recent run-in with the law,
I have every right to wonder if you even know how to tell the truth at all.” She turned her constipated face toward Ryan. “Mr. Fraser, were you aware that Miss Ashe was copying off of you? Did you assist her in any way?” she asked.

“No, but—”

“Did you copy off of her?”

“No! There's no way that we could have.”

“I believe you. We received a tip that she might've used other means to cheat, but since your answers were so identical, we had to be sure. This is your one get out of jail free card, young man.”

“But, Mrs. Crandall—” he protested.

“That is all,” Mrs. Blanchard said, interrupting. “You can go back to class, Ryan. Thank you.”

Okay, my cheeks were in flames. I'd bet my last breath that every drop of hemoglobin in my body was currently located in my face. I tried in vain to stop myself from speaking, but it was too late. I'm passionate like that, you know.

“My ‘run-in with the law'? What is this? A John Wayne movie? There's a new sheriff in town, Miss Ashe. And Crabby Crandall thinks you're a liar,” I mocked.

“Ariel Jane Ashe! Is that how I taught you to speak to your teachers?” my mother said as she walked through the door.

Oops. Somewhere along the way, I had become the Queen of Bad Timing. Any bargaining room I may have had was presently lying on the floor in a big pile of dust.

“Um, hi, Mom.”

“Don't ‘hi, Mom' me.” She took the vacant seat and asked, “I assume I haven't been called away from the hospital for tea and cookies?”

“We've caught your daughter cheating again,” Mrs. Crandall said.

“That's a lie! I wasn't cheating! Mom, I swear!”

Mom gave me that parental evil eye that always manages to shut the kid up no matter what.

“I'm assuming you have proof this time. Otherwise, I will be even more unhappy than I already am.”

“Of course we do. We wouldn't have called you here otherwise,” Mrs. Blanchard said.

“That didn't seem to stop you last year,” Mom replied, and I started to relax. I shouldn't have been so worried. Mom was always in my corner. “Where is this proof?”

Mrs. Crandall smugged at me for the second time today and slid over the two test papers. I was getting really sick of seeing that condescending look of hers. “One of
two things happened. She either copied off of your stepson, or she used a cheat sheet of some kind.”

“You saw it happen?”

“Well, no. But the answers are identical.”

“Mom, I—”

She shot me another look and then glanced over the tests.

“And naturally you think they cheated. Why isn't Ryan being called to the carpet? Or have you notified his father?” she asked.

“Well, we've determined that Ryan was unaware of your daughter's cheating. We have given him a pass, much like we gave Miss Ashe a pass last year.”

I cringed. It didn't matter if I had cheated. Mrs. Crandall was still holding a grudge from last year. I was burnt toast.

“What's the next step? I'm assuming you called me here because there will be disciplinary action?”

Et tu, Mother? “Mom!” I yelled. “You know I didn't cheat!” How could she do this to me?

“I'm afraid so, Mrs. Fraser. We have a zero tolerance rule when it comes to cheating. There's too much evidence here to ignore. AJ admitted she didn't study for the quiz—”

“No. I admitted that I only wrote my name on the paper before I turned it in,” I retorted. Tears were stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I faced Mom. “I didn't answer one question. I swear it.”

A light knock on the door interrupted my crucifixion. Miss Mandy entered holding a lock and another piece of paper. She handed both to Mrs. Blanchard and sent me an apologetic glance.

“Do you recognize this lock, Ariel?” Mrs. Blanchard asked.

“Um, it looks like the one from my locker. Why?”

“It
is
the one from your locker. And do you want to tell me what we found in there today?”

“Let's see. I'm sure you found all my posters of Shia LaBouef, the ‘Hi, I'm a Mac' dude, and David Beckham. Why did you go through my locker? I'm confused.”

Confused didn't even begin to cover it. If I took a minute to really think about it, I'd be pissed.

“We received an anonymous tip that you might be in possession of the test key. We searched your locker and guess what?” Mrs. Blanchard waved the test key in the air like a flag.

“It's a lie! Mom, I swear I've been set up! I never saw the test key. I didn't even know there was one! You have to
believe me!” I was begging, and it wasn't pretty.

“Well, Miss Ashe,” Mrs. Crandall interrupted. “It'd be easier to believe if you didn't have a history of lying. We have last year's incident, and more recently, the rumors around school are that you lied to the police about Noah James. How do you expect us to believe you now? Especially with such strong evidence against you.”

My eyes popped open in wide surprise. Why did she think I had lied to Officer Littleton? I mean, I had, but that wasn't the point. The point was, how did Crabby Crandall know?

“Well, I guess I know why you were feeling guilty yesterday. I'm sorry, AJ. This is the bed you made, now you have to lie in it,” Mom said.

My heart sank when Mrs. Blanchard uttered the words “three-day suspension.” How was that going to look on my college transcript?

As we were leaving, Mrs. Blanchard added, “And AJ, because of your suspension, you can no longer run for president. I'm sorry, but class leaders have to be positive role models.”

The idea that Little Miss Unshine could be a more positive role model than me was ludicrous.

Mom and I left the office in silence. I had never been so disgusted in my life. I had totally been set up and nobody believed me. I wasn't a liar. Okay, so I
had
lied to protect Ryan, but that was it. And how had that gotten around the rumor mill so fast, anyway?

Then I remembered. Cody Littleton was Crabby Crandall's nephew. Hello, AJ. How about a big bite of “duh cake.”

“AJ, you get your car and take your ass home. No. Wait. Before you go home, I want you to go to Pot and Kettle and tell Rick what happened. I have to get back to a patient or I would do it myself. And then we'll discuss this tonight. As a family. Be there for dinner.”

“Tell Rick? Are you kidding me? Why?”

“Because he's your father now.”

It had always been just Mom and me. In truth, we had been more like sisters than mother-daughter. Now she wants to go all parental on me?

“No, Mom. He's the guy you married. I like Rick, I do. But I am not going to his company and tell him anything.”

“You will. This is how families work. Now go. And AJ, once you get home, you stay there. Do you understand me?”

“Fine,” I snapped. “Mom? You do believe me, don't you?”

She looked at me with soft blue eyes full of disappointment. “Honey, I don't know what to believe anymore.”