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Despite my father’s brutal reputation, he knows how to be pleasant when necessary. His large hand warmly shakes her small one. “Olivia. Appreciate the phone call. Let’s see what we can do about getting this sorted out.”
“Of course.” Her eyes rake him over like she’s drooling over her next meal. “Come sit down and we’ll have a chat.”
My father snaps his fingers and addresses me directly for the first time. “Get up.”
Aric Marchenko is not the kind of guy who tolerates an argument. Shouldering my backpack, I follow his tall body into the large office and wait until he sinks into one of the leather chairs parked in front of Olivia’s desk before copying the move.
He wastes no time speaking first. “I find it difficult to believe that my daughter would be severely punished for a silly shoving match between girls.”
In the corner of Olivia’s desk sits a glass bowl full of those green mints she was eating earlier. If there’s a shred of truth to the gossip, I guess she needs them.
She folds her hands on the desk and takes her time appraising me before turning back to my father. “It was more than a shoving match. The Pressman girl suffered a broken nose.”
“Pressman.” My father spits out the name. “Rich Pressman’s daughter, right?”
“Yes.”
“I know him.” My father’s smile has a glacial quality. “I’m confident he’ll allow me to make this right.”
Abby’s father owns a string of car dealerships but my dad must have something worth holding over his head. The thought makes me oddly proud.
My father glances at me. “And what could this fight have possibly been about?”
Olivia enjoys telling this part. “Before things turned physical, Haven and Abby were arguing over a boy.”
“Impossible.” He waves a hand that’s heavily tattooed and adorned with silver rings. “My daughter doesn’t even like boys.”
Olivia raises her expertly shaped eyebrows and looks to me for confirmation.
“Dad, that’s Lita,” I mutter.
My father peers at me with a frown. “What?”
“Lita’s gay. I’m not.”
He’s annoyed to be openly contradicted. “I thought it was you.”
“No.”
“What’s this boy’s name?”
“It’s not important. He doesn’t matter.” I shoot a glare at Olivia and hope she’ll keep quiet. This day could get a lot more mortifying in a hurry if my father decides to storm the halls of West Prep and drag Conner Wiseman out by his testicles.
Perhaps the school director has no wish to see the star quarterback mutilated. She keeps her manicured hands folded and says nothing.
My father is already growing bored with the meeting. “It’s a silly disagreement between teen girls. Just give her detention for a few days.”
Olivia mulls this over. “Excusing the incident will be difficult. We have a no tolerance policy when it comes to physical altercations.”
My father’s eyes bore a hole in her face. “And I bet receiving a fat check for the new library will help you overlook that policy.”
She smiles. “Such a contribution would be very appreciated. We do value our West Prep families. Haven, I’m afraid I will have to suspend you for three days, however.”
My father rises from his chair and answers for me. “You can be sure Haven appreciates the second chance and will put the time to good use.” He shoots me a look as a sign that I need to agree.
I can’t manage to raise my voice above a mumble. “Yeah, thanks for the suspension.”
Olivia Davison is not paying attention anyway. She extends her hand to my father. “We’ll have to arrange lunch at the club sometime.”
