The Education Of Hailey Kendrick Part 4

"I'll pay for it. I can use some of the money in my savings account, and I'll get a job this summer and send the money here," I offered.

"You better believe you're going to pay for it, and you're also going to write the school administration an apology letter." A tired sigh came through the speaker. I could picture my dad at work in his office, rubbing his temples. Discipline wasn't really his thing. My mom used to do it, and after she died, he hadn't needed to punish me. I had been too busy being the perfect kid. We were in uncharted territory.

"There is one other issue still on the table," Dean Winston said, leaning over so his voice would be picked up by the speaker. He was stroking his tie as if it were a cat. The whole thing gave me the creeps, and I had to fight the urge to pull my chair farther away from him. "Hailey has not been willing to give us the name of the"-he cleared his throat-"young man from town that she was with last evening. "

"I don't see why his name matters," I said. "It was just a guy from town."

"I'm sure your father would also like to know about this guy guy from town that his daughter is cavorting about with in the middle of the night, committing acts of vandalism." from town that his daughter is cavorting about with in the middle of the night, committing acts of vandalism."

"I thought you were dating Taylor. Who is this boy?" My dad asked.

"Tristan. His name isn't Taylor. This was just a guy I met. I really don't want to talk about my dating life," I said.

"This boy is responsible for half the cost of the damages. Non-students are not allowed on school grounds after hours."

"I said I would pay for it," I said again, kissing my hefty savings account good-bye.

"Are you protecting this boy for some reason?" My dad asked. "Is he threatening you? How do we even know Hailey had anything to do with this vandalism? My daughter is not the type to be in trouble. I think it is far more likely that this boy was the instigator."

"Your daughter appeared to our security guard to be a very willing partic.i.p.ant."

"What exactly are you trying to say about my daughter? I would think there might be a need to spend less time smearing her reputation and instead looking into how this boy was allowed on what is supposed to be a secure campus," my dad snapped back.

I ground down a millimeter of tooth enamel. I hated how both Dean Winston and my dad were talking about me like I wasn't even in the room. It seemed to me that it wasn't about the statue anymore. Now it was about which one of them was more in charge.

"This guy has nothing to do with this. I was the one who was upset. It was my idea to damage the statue. The guy was just there. Nothing more," I blurted out, shutting both of them up for a beat.

"Hail, why were you so upset?" My dad asked, his voice tuning in to what I was saying for the first time. I felt my throat seize shut with rage. He wanted to know why I was upset? Either he'd completely forgotten that he'd torpedoed our summer plans a day before, or it had mattered so little to him that he couldn't even imagine that I might have been upset about it. I pressed my lips together to hold in what words might come flying out. I felt myself starting to tear up, and I stared down into my lap.

"Mood changes can be a sign of substance use," Mr. Winston said. "If Hailey has fallen in with an unsavory crowd, this might be something we need to investigate."

Dean Winston was about to see a mood change. I pictured how satisfying it would be to sweep my arm across his desk and send the phone flying to the floor. I forced myself to take a deep breath.

"I'm not on drugs. I understand you want to know who I was with, but I'm not willing to get anyone else in trouble for something that was my fault. I'm not going to tell you. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"It's not that simple, Hailey. What happened impacts the safety of the entire school," Dean Winston said. "As you know, we've had security challenges of late with the paparazzi. If there are unauthorized people sneaking onto campus, we need to know."

"If she refuses to tell, I'm not certain what you expect to happen," my dad said. "We can't force her."

"I a.s.sure you, Mr. Kendrick, I have extensive experience working with teens. When direct requests are met with resistance, then we take further action. Your daughter will be placed on campus restriction. This means she will not be allowed off campus for any activity. No trips to the mall, no movies, no sporting events. She's not allowed to go down to the store to pick up soda, candy, or those fas.h.i.+on magazines they all seem to love. She isn't allowed to leave the campus grounds without an escort from the faculty until she decides to share with us the ident.i.ty of who she was with last evening."

What Dean Winston seemed to have forgotten in coming up with a plan that he clearly thought would crush me, is that it wasn't like anyone was going to want to hang out with me. I had to cancel the biggest social event of the year, thanks to my dad, and I'd publically hurt the most popular guy on campus. It wasn't like my boyfriend was going to want to take me anywhere. I couldn't imagine what Tristan thought of me. I could pretty much guess that this morning's a.s.sembly had dropped the whole nearly-naked Mandy scandal off the chart. Being stuck in my room by myself actually seemed like a gift rather than a punishment.

"That's fine," I said.

"While it might be fine for you, Ms. Kendrick, I doubt your cla.s.smates will share your perspective." Dean Winston leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "The entire campus will share your punishment."

I sat straight up. "You can't punish everyone. That's not fair."

"Evesham prides itself on its sense of community. It's been my experience that the pressure from one's peers is more convincing than anything I can do. If I can't persuade you to provide the name of the other person involved, then perhaps a week of no one being able to leave campus will be all the encouragement you need."

Winston looked really proud of himself. He seemed to be getting some kind of perverse pleasure out of the idea of seeing me ostracized by everyone I knew. I was starting to get the sense that he would see waterboarding as an acceptable form of information gathering too.

"Hailey, you should expect a punishment from me as well. We'll discuss it this weekend after you've had a chance to think about what you've done," my dad said. He might have wanted Dean Winston to think he was giving me time to stew, but I suspected the truth was that my dad had no idea what to do in terms of a punishment and couldn't be bothered to take more time away from his job to deal with me. I hadn't given him a lot of practice over the past few years. The worst thing I'd done since my mom had died was forgetting to put the tub of ice cream back in the freezer, resulting in a puddle of French vanilla on his polished marble counter. Destruction of school property was a pretty big step up.

"That's not all," Dean Winston said, interrupting my dad before we could end this call from h.e.l.l. "We expect Hailey to make reparations as to the cost of the statue, of course. However, we feel that true reparations are more than just taking money out of an account. Many of our students come from fortunate backgrounds, and as a result, coming up with funds often isn't an issue and not a large deterrent."

"What is it you're thinking of?" My dad cut him off before Dean Winston could go ahead and call me a spoiled brat, which is what he was hinting at.

"Hard work. Hailey will be a.s.signed to work with the cleaning crew. Her hours will be tracked and those minimum wage earnings applied to repay the statue."

"You want me to be a janitor?" I had an image of myself in a gray jumpsuit with my name st.i.tched over the pocket and the stench of Lysol following me around like a yellow cloud. After canceling my summer party, cheating on the most popular guy on campus, and getting everyone in the whole school on restriction, being one of the cleaning crew was really going to be the icing on the cake of my newfound leper status.

"When you make a mess, it's important to clean it up," Dean Winston said.

"I agree," my dad said.

"What about school? I have college apps to finish." It wasn't that I thought I was above cleaning, but in the big scheme of things, was it more important for me to sc.r.a.pe gum off the bottom of desks or focus on pulling up my grade in history so I could go to Yale? Seriously, this couldn't get any worse.

"We're hardly planning to make you work around the clock." Dean Winston looked over my shoulder and nodded at someone behind me, before turning his attention back to my dad and me. "But you will be monitored, of course. I've selected a student leader to keep an eye on your partic.i.p.ation and encourage you to do the right thing regarding being fully honest about this situation."

I couldn't wait to see who was going to be Winston's lackey. I turned around and saw Joel in the doorway. When he saw me, his face went white. He'd overheard what Winston had said and knew he was my new jailer.

I was wrong. Winston had found a way to make things worse.

10.

I needed to be alone or I was going to lose it. I wasn't sure what losing it was going to look like, but I was willing to bet it would make what had happened with the statue look like small-time. I pictured myself standing in the center of the quad screaming and flopping around on the ground like a two-year-old having a full-on meltdown. needed to be alone or I was going to lose it. I wasn't sure what losing it was going to look like, but I was willing to bet it would make what had happened with the statue look like small-time. I pictured myself standing in the center of the quad screaming and flopping around on the ground like a two-year-old having a full-on meltdown.

When Winston finally dismissed me, I put my head down and hustled toward my room. I was supposed to go to the last ten minutes of calculus, but whatever. I needed at least ten minutes of silence where I could just sit and pull things together. Everything had blown apart. I felt like I was standing in the middle of the rubble of my life, unsure about what to pick up. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, and it felt like I could throw up at any second. However, I couldn't be alone, because I had Joel stuck to my side like Velcro, and he was following me back to the dorms.

Joel shuffled through the leaves. "What should we do?"

This was the fourth time Joel had asked this question since we'd walked out of Winston's office.

"I don't know. Nothing, I guess." I wondered if people looking out of the cla.s.sroom windows were watching, and what they thought of me. I couldn't look Joel in the face. I still wasn't sure how to handle what had happened. My plan of ignoring it altogether was now going to be a bit harder, since the entire school knew there'd been a kiss, even if they didn't know who it had been with.

"Do you want me to confess?" Joel asked. "I was going to, right after the meeting. I followed Tristan out of the hall, but then he puked."

I stopped short. "What?"

"He threw up. I've never seen him like that. I was going to tell him that it was me, that I was the one who kissed you, but when I saw him, I couldn't."

I couldn't think about Tristan now. I forced the image of him out of my mind. Tristan acted cool and aloof about everything, but he wasn't. He was used to protecting himself. It came from years of having photographers following him around hoping to capture a vulnerable moment. I remembered him telling me that when he was six, he took a nasty spill off of his bike. His knee had a huge gash, and there was a flap of skin, a triangle of flesh, that was ripped free and hanging. Tristan said it was that flap of skin that had really freaked him out, almost more than the pain. He'd been afraid that if he'd pulled on it, his entire skin would have peeled off his body. He'd started crying, and someone had snapped a picture just as his mom had come rus.h.i.+ng up to his side. The picture ended up on the cover of some tabloid magazine, and the kids he went to school with teased him about being a crybaby. He told me that was the last time he ever cried in public. I couldn't imagine what he must have been feeling to be upset enough to puke in the bushes.

"I could get kicked out of school for this," Joel said, snapping my attention back. "I'll lose my scholars.h.i.+p for sure."

"You're not going to get kicked out," I countered, continuing toward my dorm.

"Winston is just big enough of an a.s.s to do it. All the s.h.i.+t he's doing with you, putting the whole school on restriction, the cleaning crew detail, that's all because he can. He loves a power trip. He'd like nothing better than to put someone like me back in my place. He doesn't think I belong here, and certainly not in the Ivy Leagues. People like me are supposed to clean his house and wash his car."

"You're not going to get kicked out, because I'm not going to say anything."

"I can't let you take the heat for this on your own."

"It'll blow over. He can't keep the entire school on lockdown forever. Someone will whine to their parents, who will threaten to pull their donation for a new wing on the science building, and that will be the end of it. We've just got to wait it out." I stopped at the stoop to my dorm and fumbled for my key card.

"Are you sure?"

I wanted to yell in his face that of course I wasn't sure. I'd never been in trouble like this before. How was I supposed to make him feel better when I felt like s.h.i.+t? I spun around to say something, but stopped short. Joel was still pale, and his hands were jammed deep into his pockets. He was scared.

I put my hand on his shoulder and managed what I hoped was a rea.s.suring smile. "It'll be okay."

"I'm sorry I'm the one monitoring your punishment." Joel kicked the stair halfheartedly, unable to meet my eyes.

"I'm not sorry. I'd rather have you do it than someone else. Can you imagine if he'd put Mandy in charge? She'd love to see me tarred and feathered."

Joel laughed. It sounded a bit forced. "When she realizes that you're standing between her and her regular trips to Starbucks, I think she'll demand we bring back burning at the stake."

"I forgot about her caramel macchiato addiction. I bet she ends up with the shakes before the day is over." I gave his shoulder a pat. "That almost makes it worth it."

"You should go. It's one thing to miss the rest of calculus, but you need to be on time for history."

My stomach sank to a new low. Any chance of Ms. Brown giving me a pa.s.s on turning in our project on time had disappeared. "So, what happens if I'm late, you'll give me a demerit?"

Joel looked up, his eyebrows squis.h.i.+ng together with concern. "I'd have have to give you a demerit. He's going to be watching me, making sure I enforce everything. It's not that I'd want to, but I can't afford to cut you any slack. He'll say I'm not living up to my role as president." to give you a demerit. He's going to be watching me, making sure I enforce everything. It's not that I'd want to, but I can't afford to cut you any slack. He'll say I'm not living up to my role as president."

My hand dropped from his shoulder, and a lump formed in my throat. I hadn't felt this alone since my dad had dropped me off at Evesham for the first time. "I know. I should go. I don't want to be late." I ran up the stairs without looking back.

11.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had less than fifteen minutes to get to history. I wondered if this was how people felt after some kind of disaster, like an earthquake or a plane crash. The last time I'd felt like this was after my mom died. My grandma had taken me to the mall to get black dress shoes for the funeral. The mall was full of people bustling around, swinging shopping bags to the bouncy beat of the pop music that pumped through the speakers. The smells of pizza and fresh baked cookies competed as they poured out of the food court. It seemed like everyone was wearing artificially bright colors, like a clown academy had run amok in the hallway. lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had less than fifteen minutes to get to history. I wondered if this was how people felt after some kind of disaster, like an earthquake or a plane crash. The last time I'd felt like this was after my mom died. My grandma had taken me to the mall to get black dress shoes for the funeral. The mall was full of people bustling around, swinging shopping bags to the bouncy beat of the pop music that pumped through the speakers. The smells of pizza and fresh baked cookies competed as they poured out of the food court. It seemed like everyone was wearing artificially bright colors, like a clown academy had run amok in the hallway.

I'd stopped in the doorway of the mall, and a salesclerk from the nearby department store had seen me hesitate, and had moved in to spray me with a puff of perfume. She'd blathered about how there was a sale and if I bought the perfume I could get a free lipstick. I'd taken the flyer she pressed into my hand and looked down at it, trying to make sense of what was written on it, but it looked like Arabic. My grandmother took me by the elbow and guided me through the crowd to the shoe store. I felt like I was watching myself, or someone playing me, on TV. It didn't seem it was possible that this was reality. How could everything be going on just the same when my world had stopped? My mom was dead, but to everyone else it was just another day at the mall. They were complaining about jeans that didn't fit, and whispering about boys who were hanging out at the arcade. The salesclerks just wanted another sale or for their s.h.i.+fts to end, and little kids were still tossing pennies into the fountain and making wishes. I remember feeling how small and insignificant my life must have been, that when it came cras.h.i.+ng down, it wasn't enough to make a ripple in the rest of the world.

Now it was happening all over again. I had lost Tristan. I was sure of it. He had been one of the constants in my life since moving to Evesham. We went everywhere together. People thought of us as one unit, Tristan and Hailey. His popularity had rubbed off on me. People liked me because Tristan did. They worried about what I thought and copied my hairstyles. I was pretty and smart, but Tristan had been what had made me special. He would never forgive me for what had happened, and I couldn't even explain it to him without hurting him even more.

I rolled into a ball on the bed. By now the announcement would have been made in cla.s.ses that everyone was on restriction. Anyone who had thought it was sort of cool that Miss Perfect Kendrick had destroyed the school statue would suddenly be changing their minds. Now my prank was going to cost them their freedom, and that wasn't going to be appreciated. Not at all.

I didn't want to run away. That would mean starting all over someplace else. What I wanted to do was disappear, but that wasn't an option. Neither was turning back time and not getting myself into this situation at all. What had I been thinking? Just like when my mom died, there was no way to change what had happened. I had to get through it. If I got through that, I could get through this. I would do it exactly the same way. I would put my head down and toe the line. I had gotten all wild and crazy for one night, and look where it had gotten me. I was going to follow every rule, guideline, and bylaw. I was going to follow rules that hadn't even been made yet. I was going to be so good I would make Mother Teresa look like an escapee from a Girls Gone Wild Girls Gone Wild video. I wasn't sure how I was going to make this up to everyone, but I was willing to try. video. I wasn't sure how I was going to make this up to everyone, but I was willing to try.

12.

When I walked into history, everyone stopped talking and turned to face me. I ducked my head and slid into my seat next to Kelsie. She had her book open and was pretending to be riveted by the description of the battle of Saratoga. I slid my foot across the aisle and lightly tapped her leg.

"Hey," I whispered. She looked over, and I saw she was ticked. Not just a little angry but seriously p.i.s.sed off. I pulled my leg back, my face no doubt registering the shock. I hadn't thought she would be one of the people who would be mad.

Kelsie leaned over so that no one could overhear us. "I thought we were friends," she hissed.

"We are," I said.

Kelsie shook her head like she couldn't believe a word that came out of my mouth. "Really? Because I would think that if we were friends, you might have thought it was important to share something like that with me. I don't know. I thought friends told each other stuff. What the h.e.l.l do I know?" She turned back around and stuffed her nose back in her book.

I slunk down in my seat and did my best to ignore the whispering around me. Ms. Brown walked in and perched on the edge of her desk. She was thin and angular, with a long nose. She reminded me of a heron waiting to pounce. Her gaze swept across the room. She paused at my desk and raised one pencil thin eyebrow in my direction. I could feel her disappointment coming off in waves.

"Hailey, would you and Kelsie like to present first?"

I stood up next to my desk. "Our presentation isn't done. It's my fault. Kelsie finished yesterday, and I said I would get my half done last night, but I didn't." I sat back down, my cheeks burning.

"That's unfortunate. I would ask what was important enough to keep you from your studies, but I trust we've already discussed that topic enough this morning," she said.

Someone in the back of the room giggled, but the sound was choked off when Ms. Brown looked over. I could feel Kelsie eyeing me, evaluating what I'd said and deciding if she would say anything or keep quiet. It might as well have been completely my fault. If I hadn't screwed up last night, the project would be done and we'd be standing up there right now talking about the importance of the French to the success of the American Revolution.

"Very well. I'll expect you two to present tomorrow. We'll discuss the impact of this extension later." She looked down at her grade book. "Phillip, let's have you and your partner start us off."

When the bell rang for the end of cla.s.s, I sat in my seat while everyone else streamed out of the room. The room was quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the back wall and the sound of Ms. Brown tapping her long fingernail on her desk.

"'Nothing is a greater stranger to my breast, or a sin that my soul more abhors, than that black and detestable one, ingrat.i.tude,'" she said.

My forehead scrunched up. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"It's a quote from George Was.h.i.+ngton during the war," she clarified.

"Oh." I pulled my notebooks together. I didn't know if she was calling me an ingrate, or was implying that Kelsie should be grateful that I was taking the blame for our project, or was randomly spitting out historical quotes. History teachers are an odd breed. Maybe it comes from inhaling all those dusty books. "I'll make sure our presentation is done by tomorrow."

"It's an automatic reduction in your grade."

"I know."

She waited until I was almost out the door. "If you're interested, I may have some extra credit a.s.signments you could do. It might balance out your overall grade. The a.s.signments are of course also open to Kelsie if she wishes."