The principal's office felt ten sizes smaller than it actually was.
Or maybe it was just my mom.
"HOW the fuck could this happen?" she snapped, her voice echoing off the walls like she was personally declaring war on the education system. "Where the fuck was the school nurse? Why the fuck wasn't I notified that my son passed out in the first place?!"
Each word hit like a gunshot.
The principal sat behind her desk, trying very hard to maintain that calm, professional look people in authority always try to pull off when everything is very clearly not under control. Her lips were pressed tight, her eyes flickering between my mom and me like she was silently begging for backup that wasn't coming.
'Yeah… no, you're on your own there,' I thought, sinking lower into my chair, attempting the ancient and noble technique of becoming invisible.
It was not working.
Across from us, Scarlett's mom—Milka Everest—looked like she'd aged ten years in the last ten minutes. Pale, stiff, and visibly trying not to implode from secondhand shame. Every now and then, her face would twitch like she was reliving the entire incident in her head and wishing she could uninstall reality.
"Mrs. Stellan," the principal started carefully, "please believe me when I say we are taking this very seriously—"
But my mom wasn't listening.
She was in full storm mode.
And there was no umbrella strong enough for this.
Then, quietly—almost too quietly—Milka spoke.
"M-Mrs. Stellan… I—I can't express how sorry I am for what Scarlett… for what she tried to do to Caleb."
That got everyone's attention.
Milka clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white, her voice shaking like it might break apart mid-sentence.
"I found a note in her room," she continued. "She… she was planning to—to hurt him. To—to murder then kill herself the first vulnerable boy she could find today… after…"
She couldn't even finish it properly.
"…after raping them."
My head snapped up so fast I'm pretty sure I pulled a muscle.
"What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath, because honestly, at this point, that was the most appropriate response I had left.
My mom's eyes flicked to me for half a second—just enough to acknowledge I cussed—before she chose, for once, to let it slide.
Which, frankly, said a lot about how bad this situation was.
'Vulnerable?'
That word stuck.
It echoed in my head louder than everything else.
'Was that how she saw me?'
I'm just… a target.
Some random, unlucky guy who happened to look like the easiest choice for her twisted final plan.
A prop in whatever ending she'd decided for herself.
'She was going to kill me.'
Yeah… okay.
She's definitely not girlfriend material.
A thin sheen of sweat formed along my hairline, my skin prickling as the full weight of it settled in.
Silence swallowed the room whole.
For a moment, no one moved, o one breathed, then my mom spoke.
"Thank God Vivienne found you," she said, her voice no longer explosive—but somehow worse. Like something fragile had slipped underneath all that anger. "And saved you from that… suicidal maniac."
Her eyes finally landed on me, and yeah, I would've preferred the yelling.
Because this? This was the look that checked if I was still alive.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
Across from us, Milka nodded weakly, her eyes shimmering like one wrong blink would send everything spilling over. "I just wish I had seen the signs earlier," she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
My mom didn't soften, not even a little.
"Control your daughter," she said sharply, her glare cutting across the room like a blade. "Or I, myself, will see her put in prison."
And just like that—
Meeting over.
I barely had time to process anything before she grabbed me and hauled me out of the principal's office like I weighed nothing.
Her grip tightened around my arm, fingers digging through the thin fabric of my shirt as she marched down the hallway like she was leading a raid.
"Damn irresponsible…" she muttered under her breath. "How could they not—unbelievable—no protocol—no supervision—"
I didn't say anything.
Didn't even try.
Because I was trying to catch up with her stride, stumbling along beside her, still half out of it, the words blending together into background noise.
Students peeked out from their classrooms as we passed.
Doors cracked open.
Heads turned.
But no one said a word.
No one even breathed too loudly.
Because everyone knew.
When Officer Stellan was in this mode?
You stay away 10 miles out of the blast radius.
And for once—for once—I wasn't the main target.
'Huh,' I thought, a small, almost guilty smile tugging at my lips. 'This is… kind of nice.'
A small, traitorous smile tugged at my lips.
'Just… not being the one she was about to verbally annihilate.'
We reached the parking lot in record time, and before I could even catch my breath, she yanked the car door open and practically shoved me into the passenger seat.
BANG!
The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the entire vehicle.
The engine roared to life like it shared my mom's anger issues, and we peeled out of the parking lot fast enough to probably violate at least three traffic laws and one moral code.
Great.
First day of school and I didn't even make it to first period.
Honestly? Kind of impressive.
As the adrenaline started draining out of my system, everything felt heavier—my limbs, my thoughts, even the silence in the car.
My mom's posture loosened just a little, but her hands were still locked on the steering wheel like she was personally wrestling it into submission.
"Caleb," she said, eyes glued to the road. "Why were you even in the nurse's office?"
I shrugged automatically, even though my brain was still trying to piece together the mess of today like a broken puzzle. "I was talking to Dash when I suddenly fainted" I started. "That's the last thing I remember. Then I woke up, and Scarlett was already there… locking the door."
I left the part where Scarlett devirginized me and I didn't even get to have my orgasm.
Because yeah—no.
I enjoy being alive.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her jaw tighten, then loosen, like she was chewing on her frustration and trying not to spit it out all over me.
Silence settled again.
Then—
"Dash?" she repeated, her tone shifting into confusion. "You mean your friend Dasha, the weird lesbian?"
I frowned, turning to her. "No, Mom. Dash. Tall guy. Soccer team. Loud. Annoying. Definitely not named Dasha."
She didn't respond right away.
Instead, she gave me this look.
Not like I'd said something wrong—but like I said something that shouldn't exist.
Her expression shifted, something tight and unsettled creeping in, like I just handed her a puzzle piece from a completely different box.
"Caleb…" she muttered, almost to herself.
Uh oh.
That tone never led to anything good.
Her grip on the wheel tightened again, and when she looked back at me, her decision was already made.
"That's it," she said flatly. "We're going to the hospital. You're getting your head looked at."
"What?" I straightened up. "Mom, I'm fine. There's no need to—"
"Caleb Stellan."
…And just like that, the discussion died.
I shut up immediately and turned to stare out the window like a model citizen who had accepted his fate.
The scenery blurred past—buildings, cars, people living normal lives who definitely weren't being dragged to the hospital because their mom thought their brain had stopped working.
'Which, to be fair… debatable.'
With nothing else to do, I pulled out my phone and immediately frowned.
"…Huh."
This wasn't my phone case.
I flipped it over.
Still my phone.
But the case? Different.
Weirder.
I tried unlocking it.
[Wrong password]
I tried again.
[Wrong password]
"Okay… what?" I muttered under my breath, a small knot forming in my stomach.
Did I forget it?
No way.
I've had the same password since forever. There's no way I'd just—
Unless I hit my head harder than I thought.
Or—
Or what?
I frowned harder at the screen.
'Maybe Heather messed with it,' I reasoned, clinging to the most normal explanation I could find. 'Yeah. That sounds like something she'd do.'
Still…
Something about this felt off.
Really off.