The Accusation

I stood in front of the broken mirror in the bedroom that doubled as... well, everything except for a kitchen, and gently combed my hair. The nail mark was still on my cheek, my hair was pulled out in places, and my eyes were swollen from crying myself to sleep.

But I am still Hailey Blake Wright, the same girl who went to school the next day after my mother died. I can do this. I will not falter for a man.

I pushed my hair into a simple ponytail and stepped back. Clean jeans, a white top, my bag, perfect.

I will not act heartbroken. I will not look at Johannah or Micheal. I will study and come back home. That's it.

I turned away and walked out of the house, locking the door behind me.

The minute I stepped into school, I knew something was wrong. It seemed like the students who normally paid zero attention to me were all watching me. Like the school was stopping in time around me.

I looked around. It wasn't weird for the arts students to have a celebrity around for their showcases, and I wondered if that was what was happening.

It wasn't.

I walked forward. Maybe the entire school now knows about the breakup? Maybe they were watching me like that because Johannah spun it into Micheal dumping me for her? It wasn't so out of reach for someone like her, anyway.

I kept my head down and walked straight to class, taking my usual seat. The chatter around me immediately hushed, and I heard a few giggles around me.

"So the final exam is in three months," said a girl from the back row, a little too loudly for the person she was talking to, almost as if she wanted someone else to hear.

"Not everyone needs to study for it, though," another said, laughing. "Some can just have extra lessons with teachers behind firmly locked doors."

The entire class immediately broke into a laugh, and I just sat there, watching them enjoy a joke I apparently wasn't let in on.

I pulled out my math textbook and a notebook and started to solve to keep my head straight.

"Stop pretending," a girl laughed, flicking my pen away. "You don't need that, do you?"

I turned, my brows furrowed. "What is your problem?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away as the class started to laugh again. My hands were shaky by the time I grabbed my pen, my mind reeling.

What is the meaning of all these?

Miss Stella, my favourite teacher, walked in for the first class, causing the noise to go down. I watched as she explained the same concepts I had been solving, but she was different.

She would normally ask for my insight. Normally ask me to solve a question or two. Now, she kept her eyes strictly on the board like she was afraid of what she would see if she let herself turn around.

"Now, can I have a volunteer for question 8b?"

I immediately raised my hand, hoping for some sort of normalcy in a world that seemed suddenly apathetic towards me.

Miss Stella's gaze slid right over me as she shrugged. "No volunteers. I will let it be a revision question for you, then. See you in the next class."

A round of laughter erupted in the rows behind me.

"Miss Stella disowned her first child?" Someone asked, laughing, causing the rest to almost fall out of their seats.

I stood up and immediately followed Miss Stella out of the classroom.

"Miss," I said, stepping forward, my chest heaving. "Can I have a word?"

She let out a small sigh, and when she turned to me, her eyes were closed off. She folded her hands in front of her.

"I am not sure what you want to say to me, Miss Wright, and I am not sure I want to hear it. You are brilliant. It is quite unfortunate that you thought you had to stoop that low for grades. I am very disappointed in you, and I would prefer if you see me strictly as Miss Stella who teaches math. Good luck."

Before I could ask what she meant or what any of it meant, she turned and walked away. I stood there, the murmurs of students around me fading into white noise, tears prickling the back of my eyes.

Suddenly, an announcement came on the intercom.

"Announcement, seniors. Student Hailey Blake Wright is invited to the conference room eight by eleven a.m. today. Appearance is compulsory."

My eyes widened. Conference room eight was basically a panel. The same panel where I had watched them discipline students and vowed to never be one of them.

"Cat got your tongue now?"

I turned, and Johannah was standing there, accompanied by her clique mates, the same polished, vindictive smile plastered on their lips.

I swallowed hard. "What the fuck did you do?"

She chuckled. "We just told them the truth. And you know what my dear Micheal said last night. He needs time to heal from your betrayal. Maybe after your visit to conference room eight, you will be able to give him space to do just that."

My heart sank as Micheal's threat from last night rang loud and clear in my ears. So I wasn't just heartbroken, I was also in trouble.

"What the fuck did you do?!" I yelled, my breath shaky, my eyes wide with unshed tears.

Johannah only laughed and turned away, waving her hands mockingly above her head. "Toodles, bitch."

I stood there, my heart beating wildly, my body now cold and unmoving. This scholarship is the only thing I have. Micheal can't possibly punish me for catching him cheating on me, right? He couldn't possibly be that much of a bastard, right?

I looked at the clock hanging on the hallway wall. Fifteen minutes to eleven. I barely even had time to breathe.

I sank to the floor right there, my face buried in my hands. Please. Anything but this school. Anything but my scholarship. I worked so hard for this. They can't take it away from me now.

Exactly seven minutes to eleven, I pushed myself back up. I would go in there. No matter what lies Johannah and Micheal spun against me, I would stand by my truth. No matter what.

I walked down to conference room eight alone, my mind blocking out the endless giggles and taunts that followed me every step of the way.

I stopped in front of the large double doors, my heart pounding, my knees weak.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

"You didn't do it, did you?"

My eyes opened, and I came face to face with Axel Hunt, only child of the Hunt family, the most prestigious family amongst all the old money influence in this school. He was tall, easily towering above me, and his hair was dyed crimson red and slightly dishevelled.

He was more of a superstar hockey player than a student like the rest of us, and the only other time I had seen him was when he had represented his father at the Coral student gala and handed this scholarship to me.

Yes. His family owned Coral Heights.

"I... I don't even know what it is."

He gave a small shrug, his eyes taking me in as if he couldn't decide if I was ignorant or naive. "Then I guess you will see. I will be waiting out here for you."

My brows furrowed. Why would he be waiting for me? He was not the type who had friends or a clique unlike everyone else. He was mostly alone despite how many would kill to be close to him.

"Th... thank you, I guess?"

He simply nodded, his dark green eyes thin as he leaned back om the wall next to the door, a small smile lifting the corner of his lips.

I bit down on my lower lip and pushed the door open. I stepped in, closing it behind me.

The principal, his vice, and four other heads of committees including the disciplinary committee were sitting in a half circle in front of me.

I swallowed hard as I walked to the center, my fingers grabbing the hem of my shirt to stop them from trembling.

"Miss Hailey Blake Wright," the principal said, then gave a small sigh as he pulled out a bunch of printed papers. Without wasting time, he pushed them forward and gestured for me to come take them.

I walked forward and gently pulled the papers to me, my eyes landing on what looked like a couple of texts and blurred photos.

I started to read, and that was when it hit me. These are the same explicit texts that Micheal had called amateurish yesterday. The same texts that I had hated myself for indulging in, especially after last night. The places where I had mentioned Micheal's name were blurred, but his mentions of my name were right there for everyone to see. All the pictures were blurred, but the implication was unmistakable.

"These are..." I started to say.

"Yes. The explicit texts between you and, apparently, multiple teachers. Do you care to explain, Miss Hailey?"