Sweet Like Revenge

29 - White Lies and Alibis

"Are you serious? What a cow!" Chontelle tucked her math textbook under her arm as she stood from her desk, throwing her (totally non-regulation approved) Louis Vuitton handbag over her shoulder. "You should have told me!"

We had spent most of class exchanging gossip about my party on Saturday night, and attention had inevitably turned to the excuse Ryan had passed on in order to explain my absence for the better half of an hour.

"It wasn't a big deal," I said. "My neighbor was just concerned about the noise."

Chontelle rolled her eyes to the back of her head. "What a Karen. I would've slapped the entitlement right out of her."

I raised an eyebrow pointedly. "Well, the idea was to diffuse, not inflame."

"Oh, puh-lease." She scoffed. "I can be very diplomatic."

"Mhm."

Chontelle tilted her head as she opened her mouth to quip back, but likely realized that doing so would only prove my point.

"Did anything happen while I was gone?" I yawned as we maneuvered past our peers to the door, feigning only slight interest.

"Not really. Poppy freaked because Astor was missing, but the guys found him passed out in your room. Drunken moron."

I only just managed to swallow my smirk.

"Miss Roxford?" Mr. Briar, my math teacher, called from the front of the classroom. He motioned to a chair opposite his desk. "A word?"

I hesitated by the door for a moment, not loving the look on his face — strained, slightly uncomfortable. But it didn't take long for me to give in to my goody-two-shoes need to please those in authority, and I eventually found myself retracing my steps to join him.

"First, happy birthday." He smiled, waiting for me to take a seat before taking his own. Briar was perhaps the youngest member of Irvine's faculty, and someone who I didn't remember from my initial stint at the school—likely because he had only been in college at the time. He had a sweet sort of energy about him, a genuine desire to see his students succeed.

I wondered how long it would take for it to be stolen by the bratty Irvine masses.

"Thank you." I smiled, but I internally questioned his use of the word 'first'.

As if reading my mind, Briar sighed and reached for a file. "I'm sorry about the timing, but there's something that we need to discuss..."

My teacher paused abruptly, his eyes floating over my head. I followed his odd gaze, only to see Chontelle leaning casually on a desk in one of the middle rows, her choice of pose causing her pleated skirt to rise higher than protocol allowed.

"Miss De La Cruz," Briar said plainly, but I could hear the amusement in his throat as he averted his eyes politely. "Do you mind giving us a moment? We won't be long."

Chontelle's usually assured face crinkled, her eyes darting between Briar and I as she looked up at us through her thick, feathery lashes. "Go ahead. I'm not listening."

I don't know what our teacher did to change her mind, given that I was facing her and not him. Quickly, though, Chontelle released a deep, irritated sigh before jumping down from the desk, arranging her skirt so that it sat in a much more policy-friendly position before sauntering away.

"Whatever. I'll leave you two to it."

My math teacher was still studying the girl bemusedly when I turned back to face him, the fire in her tone likely making the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. Honestly, with Chontelle around, who needed security? I had my very own guard dog.