We spring apart like we’ve been electrocuted. At the far end of the hallway stood Mr. Walding, the Deputy Principal. His arms are folded across his chest and a stern expression is set into his facial features.
Could this day possibly be any more of a rollercoaster?
I very carefully glance at Molly, who’s staying as still as I am. Like he’s a T-Rex and will go away if he doesn’t sense anymore movement.
No such luck.
“A very touching display of... artistic expression,” Mr. Walding says dryly. “I believe the bell rang ten minutes ago. And unless the Art Wing has recently been made the designated ‘shifting’ zone, I believe we have a problem.”
He gestures for us to come closer. “Let’s all take a little stroll to Principal Lynch’s office, shall we? I’m sure he’d be fascinated to hear about this particular extracurricular activity.”
35
The Consequences of Kissing Boys in School
Molly
November, 2007
FIVE OR SOminutes into getting lectured by Principal Lynch, it occurs to me that this isnotmy partner in crime’s first offense.
I shift my eyes toward Niall, narrowing them a little. But he doesn’t see me because his eyes are fixed ahead—horror filling the pools—watching Principal Lynch.
“—and while I understand that hormones are an inevitable factor at your age, Mr. Blue, we simply cannot have students engaging in this sort of flagrant behavior in the halls,” Lynch drones on, adjusting his spectacles. “Especially not in the Art Wing, which, despite its reputation for creativity, is still part of a Catholic educational institution.”
This school is Catholic?
I hear Niall huff a frustrated sounding breath, not even bothering to argue the fact that if Deputy Walsh hadn’t decided to take his daily piss break at just the right time, no one would have even seen us.
His leg (the bad one, I think) is bouncing all over the place, and his fingers are drumming on his polyester clad thighs.Meanwhile I sat perfectly still, keeping my eyes fixed on the chipped little sign on Lynch’s desk displaying his name and status.
Lynch leans back in his chair. “Now, with all things considered, given your... history, Niall, and your status as a newcomer, Molly, I will be speaking to your mothers once they arrive. The three of us can discuss how to move forward.”
Niall’s knee stops bouncing. “What?”
“You called our mothers?” My eyes snap up.
Lynch displays a thin, mirthless smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. School policy on public displays of affection requires parental notification. We find it’s the best way to ensure the... boundaries... are understood at home as well as on campus.”
Great. Just beautiful.
As if on cue, the intercom buzzes. Ms. Carrie, the receptionist, pokes her head in. “Mrs. Blue is here, Principal. And so is Ms. Lockhart. Shall I send them straight here?”
“Yes, please, thank you,” Lynch nods, looking way too pleased. I glance at Niall, trying to catch his eye, but he’s looking at his feet now.
Our mothers appear in the doorway a second later. Mrs. Blue looks resigned—further reminding this was not Niall Blue’s first rodeo when it came to kissing girls in school—wearing a grey knit cardigan. My mother was right beside her, in a yellow blouse and looking amused enough to piss me off.
Kill me now.
“Right,” Lynch stands up to greet them. “Molly, Niall, if you’ll just step outside so I can have a word with your parents in private, please.”
The two of us don’t need to be told twice. We scramble out of the office like the floor is on fire. Niall slumps into one of the molded plastic chairs in the hall outside of Lynch’s office, andI follow the repeat offender’s lead. He drops his head into his hands, rubbing his temples.
“We’re fucked.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, staring at our feet—his black shoes and my red converse against the background of the scuffed linoleum floor. My heart was racing inside my chest, beating like it wanted to burst out of my rib cage. “That’s an understatement.”
He’s silent for a long moment, before tilting his head sideways in his hands, looking at me through the messy fringe of his hair. A small grin is playing on his lips. “So... on a scale of one to ten, how good would ya say the kiss was? Worth the looming threat of whatever they throw at us?”
