The Principal

Chapter 10

The music swells in the background, a lively beat filling the gym as the prom fundraiser kicks into full swing. The room is alive with motion, the lights dimmed just enough to create a soft, romantic glow over everything. People are laughing, dancing, and talking, their faces lit by the twinkling chandeliers above.

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that’s settled in my chest. I’ve been here for hours, and I’ve spent most of it trying to push away the thoughts of Mr. Smith—the way he looked at me, the way his presence always seemed to follow me. But I can’t escape it. His eyes, the heat in his gaze—it’s like he’s always watching, always close by.

I look around the gym, my gaze flicking from group to group, and my heart races for a different reason when I catch sight of him once more. Mr. Smith is standing near the back of the room, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed. He’s talking to some of the teachers, but I can’t shake the feeling that his attention is still on me, even from across the room. I can feel his eyes on me like a physical presence, as if I’m tethered to him by some invisible thread.

I force myself to look away, a tight knot in my stomach.

“You look great tonight, April.”

I turn to find a boy from my class, Josh, standing beside me. He’s tall with messy brown hair that falls into his eyes. His clothes are well-tailored, a black suit that fits him perfectly, and he’s wearing a blue tie that brings out the deep green in his eyes. He has that confident smile—one that girls always seem to swoon over—but I’m not here for that. Not tonight.

"Thanks, Josh,” I say, trying to smile back without it feeling forced. “I wasn’t planning on dancing tonight, but—" I hesitate for a second, thinking about what I just said to myself—"I think I’ll take a chance."

Josh’s grin widens as he offers me his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you how it's done.”

Forcing myself to stand taller, I place my hand in his, the cool touch of his skin making me realize just how much I’ve been avoiding feeling anything. As he leads me to the dance floor, the swirl of the music seems to consume me, and for a moment, I try to let go of all the tension—the constant pull of Mr. Smith’s gaze, the quiet hum of his presence in the room.

Josh’s hands find their place on my waist, and I instinctively place mine on his shoulders. We move together in sync, but I can’t quite shake the feeling that something’s missing. I try to lose myself in the rhythm, but my thoughts keep drifting back to him—the dark, dangerous presence of Mr. Smith.

I pick my head up, forcing myself to focus on the here and now. The lights flash overhead, casting moving shadows on the floor. People laugh and cheer around us. I try to smile, to feel confident, but it’s hard when I can sense every pair of eyes on me.

Josh’s hands are warm against my back, his voice low in my ear, but it’s not enough to drown out the overwhelming feeling that I’m being watched. And suddenly, I realize that I’m not just feeling his eyes on me, but a whole room full of them. The boys, the teachers—all of them. I can feel the weight of their attention as if they’ve all turned their gaze toward me.

I straighten my back, raising my chin slightly, and let the confidence I’ve been trying to bury rise to the surface. There’s power in this—power in the way I stand, in the way I move. The thought makes me feel a rush of heat, a thrill that I can’t deny. I feel confident now, powerful, untouchable.

But it’s not just the eyes of the boys or the teachers that make me feel this way—it’s the sudden awareness of Mr. Smith’s gaze in the back of the room. I don’t look at him. I don’t need to. But I feel it. That steady, intense gaze, like he’s watching my every move. I can almost smell him in the air, his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something else, something distinct that only he wears. It’s there, lingering in the atmosphere around me. His presence is undeniable, even from across the room.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The knowledge that he’s watching makes the heat in my chest grow. Josh notices, but he doesn’t say anything, simply continuing to lead me in the dance. I can’t help it. I can feel his hands on me, the way they settle more possessively on my waist, but it’s Mr. Smith’s attention that sends a fire racing through my veins.

I glance around the room, trying to distract myself from the overwhelming pull I feel toward him. The room seems to be buzzing with energy, and everyone is watching us. But I can't help but feel that the most important pair of eyes on me—are his.

Josh twirls me in the dance, but it doesn’t make the tension in my chest go away. Instead, I feel the weight of it even more, and when I twirl back toward him, I notice Mr. Smith’s eyes narrowing slightly. His arms are crossed now, a slight tension in his jaw. He’s not just watching me—he’s observing, his eyes locked on me like he’s trying to decipher something.

I feel a flicker of uncertainty, something in my gut twisting at the realization that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t like seeing me with someone else. The way he looks at me, with that intensity, it’s almost like he wants to pull me back to him.

But I can’t let myself think like that. Not now.

I push the thought away, smiling brightly at Josh as we continue to dance. The music fades into the background, and for a brief moment, the world narrows to just the two of us—Josh’s hand in mine, the steady rhythm of our movements.

But even as I dance, my heart pounds. I can’t shake the feeling that Mr. Smith is still watching me, that he’s still there, a silent presence in the back of my mind, pushing me to confront the feelings I’ve been trying to ignore.