Sweet Like Revenge

01 - In Plain Sight

Only one thing had changed in the five years since I last sat in Principal Walsh's office. Me.

I primped my freshly-bleached hair in the reflection of a gold chalice cup, my eyes fluttering over the embossed letters that spelled out Irvine Academy Panthers. Glittering medals and trophies decorated the shelves around me, the dark cedar desk littered not with personal photos of smiling spouse and children, but with photos of the school's many sports teams instead.

One would certainly be forgiven for thinking that they had stumbled into some room within the school's gymnasium, and not the generously sized office of Irvine Academy's Commander in Chief. But Principal Walsh was no ordinary principal. Like most of the overpaid teachers at his prestigious private school, Walsh was a man who wore many hats. His favorite one was undoubtedly the green and black varsity hat that belonged to the esteemed football team. The Panthers were the crown jewel of my hometown, and Walsh was quick to remind anyone within earshot that he was their coach.

Of course, I wasn't supposed to know any of that information. I was supposed to be the starry-eyed new girl.

"Alrighty then," a honeyed voice boomed. The sound alone reignited a long-lost feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach, bundling it into knots that threatened to crack the veneer I'd worked so hard to craft.

I had to remind myself that the step I was taking was the first of many. That I had to be braver than the girl I used to be.

"Anabelle, was it?"

"Elle," I corrected.

Walsh took a seat behind his desk, throwing me his attempt at a warm, toothy smile.

A smile I knew to be as fake as his overpriced brown toupee.

"Well, Elle," he started, making quite the effort to amuse me with his unamusing rhyme. "This may seem a little unusual, but I like to personally welcome new students. I know how hard it can be to fit in here."

I resisted the urge to curl my lips back over my teeth.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, motioning to the water cooler.

I shook my head, hoping to get away from Walsh and out of his pretentious, stuffy office as quickly as humanly possible. Irvine's principal may have had an air of charm and a mask of professionalism, but that's exactly what it was; a mask. I knew better than anyone how sly he truly was.

I felt my heart dip when he met my stony gaze, the memories of his past cruelty taunting me behind the smokey lids of my dark blue eyes.

"Tell me about yourself," Walsh directed, pausing to confer some paperwork. "I only had a brief look over your transcript, but I have to say that I'm quite impressed."

I smiled politely in response to his praise.

But then my blood ran cold.

My transcript. My entire schooling history.

"Actually," I fidgeted in my seat. "I will grab that water."

Walsh's dark eyes darted back to mine. He assessed me for a moment, and I balled my hands under the table to redirect my nerves.

Finally, he grinned, then stood to turn and pour me a cup.

I dismissed the urge to bask in relief—time was truly of the essence. I rose in my seat, peering over the desk at my transcript. Sure enough, under the heading 'Academic History' were two little words that stopped my frantic heart.

Irvine Academy.

It wasn't just my blood freezing over, I realized. It was every last part of me. Every last part of me knew that the game was over before it'd even begun, dread clawing its way from my stomach up my throat.