Chapter 09

Sage's pov 

My lips parted, but no sound escaped. My mind was a blank canvas, fear and confusion battling for dominance. The guards' stern faces blurred as they told me I had to come with them. I shook my head, my eyes locked on Andrew, begging him to say something, to intervene.

Rina's scoff cut through the haze. "Sage, you're really a hypocrite. I never knew you could do something so awful." Her words stung, but my gaze remained fixed on Andrew, willing him to speak. 

He stood there, equally speechless, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. A wave of disappointment washed over me. He didn't say anything. He didn't defend me. My head lowered, and I numbly followed the guards.

The walk to the head of the school's office felt like an eternity. Each step was heavy, laden with the weight of an accusation I couldn't comprehend. I remembered the last time I'd entered this office – a desperate attempt to find a moment of peace from the chaos of my life. Now, I was walking into an even bigger mess. Who could have done this? Who hated me enough to orchestrate such a cruel setup? There were plenty of people who resented me, but this… this felt so heartless.

We knocked, and a calm voice invited us in. Ms. Hawthorne, the head of the school, sat behind a large, mahogany desk. Her office was a picture of refined order: towering bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, a tasteful potted plant in the corner, and a single, elegant lamp casting a warm glow on her paperwork. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and wood polish. She lifted her gaze as we entered, her brow furrowing.

"What's going on here?" she asked, her voice even.

The guards quickly explained, "Ms. Hawthorne, we found hard drugs in Ms. Davis's locker."

Ms. Hawthorne's eyes widened, and the file she was holding dropped to the desk with a soft thud. 

Her gaze, filled with disbelief, turned to me. "Sage, what are they talking about?"

"I never used any illegal drugs, Ms. Hawthorne," I pleaded, my voice trembling. "I don't know what's happening or how they found that in my locker."

She still seemed unconvinced. "Where is the drug?" she asked the guards. They immediately handed her the plastic bag. She stared at it, her expression morphing from disbelief to utter disappointment, before thanking them and excusing them from the office.

"Please, have a seat, Sage," she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her. I sank into it, my body feeling heavy and foreign.

"Sage, how could hard drugs be found in your locker?" she began, her voice tinged with sadness.

"I have no idea, Ms. Hawthorne," I repeated, the words feeling inadequate. "I've never even touched such drugs."

"I'm disappointed, Sage," she sighed, shaking her head. "I thought after everything that happened, you finally had a chance for a comeback. But now, you've only made it worse."

"I didn't do anything!" I insisted, shaking my head vehemently.

"We'll need to speak to your parents," she continued, seemingly ignoring my protests. "They need to be informed and present for a meeting so we can discuss how to proceed with this situation." She reached for her phone.

I sat there in silence, a hollow ache forming in my chest. I knew my parents. They were always too busy, too wrapped up in their own lives to pick up the call about their daughter, let alone worry about what was happening to me.

Ms. Hawthorne eventually hung up, her expression resigned. "Your parents aren't available," she stated. "Which means we can't discuss the next steps without your parents or guardians present. We'll have to reschedule for tomorrow. We'll keep trying to reach them, and you should also try to get through to them or bring an adult with you tomorrow."

She dismissed me. I left her office, a crushing weight in my chest. What was happening? Why did my life feel so suffocating, like I was drowning in something I couldn't control?

As I stepped out of the school gates, the weight of the accusation still heavy on my shoulders, my phone vibrated. It was Pauline.

"Are you okay? Come over for dinner."

I almost declined. The thought of facing anyone, of having to recount the humiliation, was draining. But then, the image of my empty house, silent and suffocating, flashed in my mind. No. Anything was better than that.

A few minutes later, I stood on Pauline's doorstep, my heart a dull throb. The door swung open, and Pauline’s familiar face, creased with concern, greeted me. We hugged, a tight embrace that spoke volumes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. I just nodded, burying my face in her shoulder.

"I heard what happened," she whispered, pulling back. "It's all over social media."

I sighed, a long, weary exhalation. "I don't know what to do."

"We'll figure something out," she promised, her grip firm on my arm as she led me towards the dining room.

And then I saw him. Andrew. He was setting the table, his back to us. My eyes immediately darted away, a flush creeping up my neck. He stopped, sensing our presence, but didn't say anything. Instead, he simply turned and went into the kitchen to retrieve dinner.

Pauline pulled out a chair beside me and asked about my leg. "Getting better," I mumbled, though the ache was still a constant companion.

"Why weren't you at practice today?" I asked, grateful for the distraction.

"Had to help my mom," she replied, "and besides, I'm still working on the plan to get my parents back together."

A wave of annoyance washed over me. Her relentless pursuit of her parents' reunion, while admirable, felt almost mocking given the storm brewing in my own life. And the thought of Andrew going back to his wife… a bitter taste filled my mouth.

Thankfully, Andrew re-emerged with dinner, and once everything was laid out, we began to eat.

"How was your performance today?" Pauline asked, oblivious to the day's events.

"I didn't join practice today," I confessed. "Still have a leg injury."

Pauline nodded sympathetically. "Good, you need time to recover."

"But I can't keep sitting by," I complained, the frustration bubbling up. "I'll fall behind."

"Your healing is the most important thing," she insisted.

The rest of dinner passed in a comfortable silence, punctuated by stolen glances between Andrew and me. Each time our eyes met, a spark ignited, a silent conversation passing between us.

"Have you told your parents?" Pauline asked, bringing me back to reality.

I shook my head. "They're not informed. Still busy."

Pauline’s hand covered mine in a gesture of sympathy, while Andrew continued to eat in silence, his expression unreadable.

After dinner, I helped clear the table while Pauline started on the dishes. Once the kitchen was tidied, Pauline headed out to drop the trash, leaving me alone in the living room. Andrew soon joined me, a cold drink in his hand.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice low. It was the first time he'd truly acknowledged what happened, and a part of me, the part that had felt utterly alone, was relieved. But another part, still raw from his earlier silence, was wary. I’d started to believe he didn’t believe me, and that thought had stung.

He sat down, an arm's length away, yet his presence was palpable. My throat tightened as he leaned forward to set his drink on the coffee table, his knee brushing mine. I jerked back instinctively, a jolt of awareness shooting through me. He didn’t comment on my reaction.

"I'm fine," I lied, the words tasting like ash.

He was quiet for a moment, then his voice, calm and steady, broke the silence. "I believe you, Sage. I know someone must have put it there. Now, we just have to prove your innocence."

My breath hitched. He believed me. Relief, so profound it almost made me dizzy, washed over me.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "You don't even know if I'm really innocent."

His gaze met mine, unwavering. "Because I've seen you, talked to you, and heard about you from my daughter. And as long as my daughter believes you're innocent, I'll support you."

My heart hammered against my ribs. The tension, ever-present between us, now crackled, amplified by the sudden intimacy of being alone in the house.

His eyes drifted to my lips, and I gulped, seeing the undeniable desire ignite within their depths. He leaned in, slowly, after what felt like an eternity.

Just then, the living room door swung open.

"What's going on?" Pauline asked, her voice cheerful as she stepped into the room.

I shot up, my chair scraping against the floor. "I'm heading home!" I announced, my voice a little too loud. I turned to Andrew. "Goodnight." Then, before Pauline could protest, I hugged her quickly. 

"Goodnight, Pauline!" I practically fled, the front door closing behind me with a soft click.

As I walked away, the cool night air hitting my face, the realization of what had almost happened slammed into me. I had been about to kiss my best friend's father. In his living room. Pauline could have walked in just a few seconds later. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic, and a strange, undeniable thrill, through me.