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Revenge Reads Better

Page 161

by Ivy Fox

“I failed you, Max.” His voice cracks. “This is all my fault.”

“What?” I parrot again, completely confused. “What’s your fault? Dad, I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

He opens his mouth to explain, but before he can get a word out, Principal Hargrove clears his throat and opens the folder sitting on his desk.

“It has come to the school board’s attention that you and a teacher at this school may have engaged in an inappropriate relationship.”

For a moment, I’m convinced I must have misheard him.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“I understand this is an extremely sensitive matter, Maxine, and I want to make something very clear before we proceed. The responsibility here does not fall on you. Mr. Collins is the adult in this situation. More importantly, he is your teacher, which places him in a position of authority over you.”

I blink at him, struggling to make sense of what I’m hearing.

“You’re not making any sense. Please… what’s this about?”

Instead of answering, Principal Hargrove reaches into the folder.

“This.”

He slides a photograph across the desk, and the moment I look down at it, my heart stops.

It’s me.

Me and Mr. Collins.

On my front porch.

I’m wearing the shorts and tank top I had on Sunday morning, his arms tight around me.

Someone took a picture of us. Someone was watching us.

“No.” I snatch the photograph off the desk and stare at it, as though looking hard enough would somehow change it. “No, no, no. This isn’t what it looks like.”

Except I know exactly what it looks like.

There’s no context in the photograph. No way of knowing that Mr. Collins came to my house that morning to tell me my story was going to be published. No way of hearing the conversation that led up to that moment or understanding why I was so excited that I threw my arms around him.

All anyone sees is a teenage girl wearing little more than her pajamas, embracing her teacher on the front porch of her house where she happens to live, mostly alone.

“Dad.” I turn to him desperately, still clutching the photograph. “This isn’t what it looks like. I swear to you.”

“Max—”

“He came over because of the contest,” I rush to explain, terrified that if I stop talking, neither of them will believe another word I say. “My story got picked. That’s why he was there. He wanted to tell me in person, and I hugged him because I was excited. That’s all that happened. I swear.”

Dad just stares at me, his face so full of sadness that I can barely stand to look at him.

I wait for him to say something. To tell me he believes me. That he knows I would never lie to him about something like this.

I need him to say it. More than anything, I need my dad to believe me.

But before he can, Principal Hargrove delivers another blow.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t the only issue we need to discuss this morning.”

My attention snaps back to him. “There’s more?”