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I was putty. My voice box refused to do much more than a soft moan at his touch.
Gabriel looked over at Nathan, his eyes squinting. “Your makeup is fucked up.”
I hadn’t even noticed Nathan wearing any. I glanced at him. There was a strange tint to the edge of his jaw where he had used concealer against his cheek.
Nathan shrugged. “It’ll work,” he said.
“Let me fix it,” Gabriel said.
“I’m not getting it done here,” Nathan said. “Forget it.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes and focused on my face. He touched my chin, examining. “You’re not too bad,” he said. He felt into his pocket for a compact and passed it to me. “Brush this on.”
I opened the compact with concealing powder and rubbed it in, using the mirror. When I tried to pass it back, Gabriel shook his head. “Keep it. Touch it up every once in a while.”
Silas, North and Luke arrived. By then, Kota was done massaging. He positioned me until I was sitting sideways on his lap, his fingertips traced over my side.
North took one look at me in Kota’s lap and grunted. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“Someone kept her out late working,” Kota said in a suggestive tone.
North smirked at me. “Traitor. You told.” He sank down next to Silas on the other bench. Luke sat on the grass in the middle.
“You need to be more careful,” Kota demanded. “You should have known. I can’t believe you kept her out for so long.”
“It was fun,” I said softly. “I don’t mind helping.”
Kota picked his legs up and brought them down sharply so I bounced in his lap. I leaned into him, wrapping arms around his shoulders as I felt like I was going to fall. “Shush,” he told me. “I’m lecturing.”
“Ouch,” I pouted as a brief pain jabbed me in my butt. Luke’s eyes widened at me but I pursed my lips, giving a slight shake of my head. I didn’t want to talk about it right now. He seemed to understand. I was in enough trouble.
“Miss Sang Sorenson,” called a sharp, bristly voice from across the courtyard.
A prickle started in my spine and I leapt from Kota’s lap to address whoever had called to me.
Mr. McCoy stomped across the courtyard in our direction. His nostrils flared over his mustache. “You are coming with me to the office. Right now.”
I bit my lower lip, blushing. I couldn’t believe it. Had he been watching us? There was a glint in his eyes that betrayed the stern way he held his mouth. He was glad to have caught us out in something.
Kota stood up, his hands clenching. “What’s this about?” His green eyes narrowed in on Mr. McCoy.
Mr. McCoy pointed a finger at him. “Inappropriate touching,” he said. “And you, too, mister. Come with me.”
I snapped myself together to collect my things. I felt the other guys watching us. North and Nathan both started to say something but Kota shot them a look that I was sure meant they should hold back and let us go. We trailed behind Mr. McCoy toward the main office.
Kota walked alongside me through the hallway, his arm brushing mine as we moved together. I think he meant it to be reassuring but I couldn’t look at him. I felt so guilty that we were both getting into trouble. This was my fault, I was sure. If I had only been insistent that I was fine.
Mr. McCoy held the office door open for us. We passed the front secretary’s desk and down a hallway where his office was near the end, right next to Principal Hendricks. Hendricks’ door was closed and in shadow. I wondered if he was in the building yet.
Mr. McCoy held open his door. “Miss Sang, first. I’ll deal with you in a minute, son,” he said to Kota.
Kota glanced at me but said nothing. What else could we do?
Mr. McCoy’s office had one window looking out into the front lawn of the school. The glass was warbled in a particular style, letting in light but not allowing anyone to see inside. I only caught the abstract brown-green blob of the school yard and the sky and the occasional blur of cars passing in the street in the distance.
The vice principal waited for me to fully enter. I stepped around him, my sandals scuffling along the blue utility carpet. He shut the door, hitting the lock.
A prickling sensation swept over my skin. I’d been in closed rooms with the boys for a little while and I was still getting used to it. This felt completely different. I’d never been in trouble before with school administration, but I thought I would have rather gotten into trouble with any other teacher rather than McCoy.
Mr. McCoy pointed to a rigid wooden chair with a chubby finger. “Sit, Miss Sang.”
His eyes locked on me as I crossed the room. I sat, carefully smoothing my skirt over my legs and crossing my ankles. His gaze never left me. I swept my eyes to his desk, and swallowed down a trembling shiver
He padded over to his chair at his desk. His lips frowned and he sat, unbuttoning his ugly brown blazer. His head tilted toward me. “Do you think it’s appropriate to sit in a boy’s lap on my campus?”
It was a strange question to ask. In the past couple of days, other students made out, groped, sat in laps and a variety of other things. Still, I knew the answer he wanted. “No, sir,” I said in a soft voice.
“I may not know much about that Academy,” he said, “but I know for sure they don’t allow that kind of behavior in their school.”
I didn’t know how to respond to this. I didn’t know anything about the Academy and I wasn’t sure how much he was told about it. I swallowed back the urge to correct him.
“I find it sickening a girl like you would allow a boy to touch you like that,” he said. His oversized desk chair creaked. I glanced up to see how he steepled his fingers under his chin. “I should call your mother.”
I lowered my eyes again and trying to look compliant and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Where did he touch you?” he asked.
My head shot up, unsure if I heard the question correctly. “Pardon?”
“Tell me every place that boy touched you,” he said. His eyes pierced into me, stabbing unclear intentions at my face.
Was this necessary? “I... um...” My fingers found my bottom lip as I spoke. “He... I was sitting in his lap,” I said. Wasn’t that obvious? Didn’t he see for himself? Why did he want me to say it out loud?
“He had his hands on your hips,” he said flatly.
I blushed. Had he? I couldn’t remember. My mind reeled while I tried to think of it. He did initially touch me there when he first placed me in his lap. How long had he been watching?
“Then he started rubbing your back,” Mr. McCoy said. He smirked at me. “Did he touch your breasts?”
My eyes popped open and I started shaking my head. “No...” How could he say that? Just hearing him asking this of me made my insides quake. I felt ashamed of what I had done enough, and didn’t want to let him assume Kota would do something like that. I was longing for Kota to be there at first but now I was so glad he wasn’t. He would know how to handle this but I couldn’t imagine what would happen if he heard it from Mr. McCoy directly.
The vice principal frowned at me. “You should address me as sir, Miss Sang.”
“Sir,” I repeated.
He twisted around in his chair to snatch a large black binder off the shelf next to him. He opened it and flipped through yellow carbon copy p
ages until he found an empty set of unused detention slips. “I expect you to behave better in the future.” He bent over and started filling out the form.
This was bad. I was getting detention on the third day of school. My mother couldn’t come get me. My father wasn’t going to be able to pick me up until well after the school would be closed. I would be stuck there for hours.
He tore the slip from his book and he held it out to me. “You should thank me that it isn’t an in-school suspension. Although next time it might be.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. With a shaking hand, I touched the slip but as I tried to pull it away, he held on to it. I looked up at him, confused.
His watery eyes squinted at me. “Say thank you, sir,” he commanded.
The bell rang for the start of our first class. I swallowed, my brain buzzing with fear. “Thank you, sir,” I said quietly.
He made a sound from his throat that almost sounded like a grunt. “Tell that boy out in the hallway to get to class.”
I fluttered where I stood, holding the detention slip in my hand. Was he not going to talk to him, too? What Silas said before to me about Mr. McCoy looking to give me detention the other day slipped into my mind. He had been right. He was waiting for this.
I stood, heading toward the door. A security system keypad was blinking to the left of the door and it caught my eye. Some of the numbers and other buttons had the words worn off. Did the vice principal have a separate security system for just his office?
I opened the door. Kota was standing in the hallway, leaning with his back against the wall. I closed Mr. McCoy’s office door behind me.
“What happened?” Kota asked.
I held out my detention slip. “We’re supposed to go to class,” I said.
He looked confused. “He doesn’t want to see me?”
“No,” I said. “He said you and I should go to class. That was it.”
His eyes flitted to the door. I bent over to pick up my book bag and violin. Kota reached for my hand, holding it and tugged me along down the hallway. Neither of us spoke as he walked with me through the front office waiting room and back out into the school. We were both late so it didn’t really matter if we hurried.
