trust you will know what to do with it. Libel, defamation and slander are serious offences.”
“You can’t mean this is the end of it,” Ms. James gasps.
Beachball pauses. “Close the door on your way out, would you, Leslie? I’d like to have a word with Ms. James.” The last thing I hear before the door shuts is Beachball hissing, “You know, Tracey, in my experience, insubordination is not the best route to a long and happy career.”
I put my journal in my bag and head to my locker. No way I’m going back to class. I slump on the floor. Next thing I know, I’m staring at somebody’s feet. I look up. It’s Ms. James.
“Leslie,” she says, “I want you to know, if you ever need help, I’m here.”
I’m so mad at her for putting me through this. All the same, part of me wants to thank her. But if I did, I’d cry. So instead I just say, “Whatever.”
Twenty-One
A fter Ms. James leaves, I stay by my locker worrying. How much should I tell Jason about what’s going on? Maybe I should pretend this morning never happened. But there’s always spies around, and I could have been seen in the office by kids going to the washroom, wandering the halls, you name it. Gossip could already be flying. If Jason hears anything, I could say I was taking the homeroom attendance down to the office or signing in late. But if someone saw me going through Beachball’s door, he’ll be on my case big time.
I don’t get why Jason always has to know where I am and what I’m doing. He says I don’t have to get it, it’s just a fact. Since I’m his girl, he has a right to know everything. It’s no use arguing, unless I want to get him mad. A few times, I’ve texted I’m somewhere I’m not. But it’s like he’s inside my head. “DONT LIE 2 ME!” he texts back, and I spill. Besides, when he explains why he needs to know, he sounds so sweet. “I love you. I worry about losing you.”
“But if you love me, why can’t you trust me?”
“I do. I don’t trust other guys, that’s all. They want to get into your pants.”
“That’s their problem,” I tell him. “I’m not interested in anyone else.”
“So if you’re not interested, you’ve got nothing to hide. What’s the matter, don’t you trust me? ”
When he puts it like that, I get mixed up. Then he holds me and snuggles me into his chest and kisses my hair and tells me, “I need to protect you. If I don’t know what you’re doing and you get into trouble, how can I look after you? I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t there.”
“I guess.”
“And, hey, speaking of trust,” he says, “how do you think I feel when you lie about where you are?”
“Right. Sorry.” It’s not exactly what I’m thinking, but I’m too confused to say anything else, and besides, I don’t want another bruise. Jason has no idea how strong he is when he grabs me, which is what he does when he wants to make a point. He’s always making points.
So figuring what to tell him about my meeting with Beachball is really tricky. If I try to hide it, for sure I’ll act paranoid and he’ll know something’s wrong. But if I tell him the truth, he’ll go insane.
In the end, I don’t have to decide. Right before the period ends, he whips around the corner. “Get up. We’re going outside.”
“Sure. Just let me straighten up my locker.”
He slams my locker door shut so hard it bounces back open and a couple of books fall out. “Is that straight enough?” He yanks me to my feet.
“Ow. What’s with you?”
“Shut up.”
I barely have time to grab my bag before he’s hauling me down the hall by my elbow. A teacher sticks his head out of class to see what’s going on. Jason drops my arm, but we keep moving.
“Sorry,” I say to the teacher as we whisk by. “We’re just going to the library.”
Jason’s walking so fast it’s hard to keep up. But I know better than to fall behind. We’re heading towards the south exit at the
“You can’t mean this is the end of it,” Ms. James gasps.
Beachball pauses. “Close the door on your way out, would you, Leslie? I’d like to have a word with Ms. James.” The last thing I hear before the door shuts is Beachball hissing, “You know, Tracey, in my experience, insubordination is not the best route to a long and happy career.”
I put my journal in my bag and head to my locker. No way I’m going back to class. I slump on the floor. Next thing I know, I’m staring at somebody’s feet. I look up. It’s Ms. James.
“Leslie,” she says, “I want you to know, if you ever need help, I’m here.”
I’m so mad at her for putting me through this. All the same, part of me wants to thank her. But if I did, I’d cry. So instead I just say, “Whatever.”
Twenty-One
A fter Ms. James leaves, I stay by my locker worrying. How much should I tell Jason about what’s going on? Maybe I should pretend this morning never happened. But there’s always spies around, and I could have been seen in the office by kids going to the washroom, wandering the halls, you name it. Gossip could already be flying. If Jason hears anything, I could say I was taking the homeroom attendance down to the office or signing in late. But if someone saw me going through Beachball’s door, he’ll be on my case big time.
I don’t get why Jason always has to know where I am and what I’m doing. He says I don’t have to get it, it’s just a fact. Since I’m his girl, he has a right to know everything. It’s no use arguing, unless I want to get him mad. A few times, I’ve texted I’m somewhere I’m not. But it’s like he’s inside my head. “DONT LIE 2 ME!” he texts back, and I spill. Besides, when he explains why he needs to know, he sounds so sweet. “I love you. I worry about losing you.”
“But if you love me, why can’t you trust me?”
“I do. I don’t trust other guys, that’s all. They want to get into your pants.”
“That’s their problem,” I tell him. “I’m not interested in anyone else.”
“So if you’re not interested, you’ve got nothing to hide. What’s the matter, don’t you trust me? ”
When he puts it like that, I get mixed up. Then he holds me and snuggles me into his chest and kisses my hair and tells me, “I need to protect you. If I don’t know what you’re doing and you get into trouble, how can I look after you? I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t there.”
“I guess.”
“And, hey, speaking of trust,” he says, “how do you think I feel when you lie about where you are?”
“Right. Sorry.” It’s not exactly what I’m thinking, but I’m too confused to say anything else, and besides, I don’t want another bruise. Jason has no idea how strong he is when he grabs me, which is what he does when he wants to make a point. He’s always making points.
So figuring what to tell him about my meeting with Beachball is really tricky. If I try to hide it, for sure I’ll act paranoid and he’ll know something’s wrong. But if I tell him the truth, he’ll go insane.
In the end, I don’t have to decide. Right before the period ends, he whips around the corner. “Get up. We’re going outside.”
“Sure. Just let me straighten up my locker.”
He slams my locker door shut so hard it bounces back open and a couple of books fall out. “Is that straight enough?” He yanks me to my feet.
“Ow. What’s with you?”
“Shut up.”
I barely have time to grab my bag before he’s hauling me down the hall by my elbow. A teacher sticks his head out of class to see what’s going on. Jason drops my arm, but we keep moving.
“Sorry,” I say to the teacher as we whisk by. “We’re just going to the library.”
Jason’s walking so fast it’s hard to keep up. But I know better than to fall behind. We’re heading towards the south exit at the
Similar Books
