Page 70 of The Monster I Am
This is just pretty much normal Willowbrook behaviour so I can handle it. They just didn’t pay attention before to realize thatthiswas normal day-to-day life for me.
I’ve blocked the catcalls and taunts out with my headphones as I walk solo to third period, but when a slender frame steps out in front of me, blocking my path, I’m forced back to reality and auditory torture.
“The Dean would like a word, Ms. Spencer,” Elizabeth says coldly. “Now, please.”
“Well since you said please,” I mumble dryly, plopping my earbuds back inside their case.
She clearly hears my snarky reply but ignores it, the two of us ascending the familiar steps to the Dean’s office. The door is wide open as I approach and I spot him waiting when I enter, dressed sharply in an extensive suit and reeking ofessence de dickhead.
“Take a seat,” he directs coolly before nodding dismissively to Elizabeth behind me. I hear the door close quietly and I can’t help but notice we’re conveniently alone this time. No Principal Samson or Mr. Martin to save me this time, which I guess raises the question…
What have I done this time?
Last I checked I haven’t stolen any more cheerleader uniforms or broken acrylic nails. I didn’t even get a chance to smack Perkins in the jugular when he attacked me last week—a massive regret.
Damn—I might be completely innocent for once.
Not that I wasn’t innocent before… Despite the fact I was definitely guilty of prior accusations, those came from provocation and self-defence. This time there’s nothing that springs to mind.
“I think it’s about time we have a little chat,” Dean Lannister starts, sitting down across from me.
I raise an eyebrow, on high alert. There’s no way this is a little catch-up where we braid each other’s hair and exchange skin care routines. “About what?”
His face gives nothing away, just an emotionless void of cunt-syndrome. He locks eyes with me as if attempting to wear me down with his eyeballs. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve developed certainrelationshipswith some of my students.”
Without skipping a beat, I nod and say, “I’m very much in love with Sophia Beckett. She understands me in a way that only makes sense to therapists. I make no apologies for our affair.”
Dean Lannister breaks, scowling unamused. “Your attitude will be your downfall, Ms. Spencer.”
“Or the reason I’m remembered fondly,” I disagree light-heartedly. “Either way, I’m shocked that you wouldcareabout my relationships.”
“Care is not the word I would use,” he shoots back hostilely. “However, when it involves my son, I’m forced to step in.”
I fold my arms, not breaking our optical game of chicken. “And what type of relationship do I have with Hunter exactly?” I ask. “I thought you would have been pleased that students are getting along. Seems like it would be less paperwork for you. Well, your assistant, anyway.”
He narrows his eyes, clearly disliking my sarcasm and credit-worthy ray of sunshine attitude to the conversation. “My house staff informed me of your presence last week. You are not welcome in my household, Ms. Spencer. Thenormoving forward.”
Forcing my face not to react, I tilt my head to the side. “And what exactly did they have to say about my visit to the prestigious Lannister household? Only good things I hope.”
The Dean doesn’t voice it out loud, but the way his body tenses up and anger flashes in his eyes, it’s easy to tell he’s been briefed on ourmusical adventures.Ew, gross. That’s rather disturbing to find out that he knows. At least it’s second-hand information and my screams didn’t grace his eardrums directly.
It takes everything in me to repress a shiver of repulsion at the thought of Hunter’s father hearing us.
“I doubt I need to explain to you the functionality of a man with Hunter’s caliber,” he replies, low. “Or the needs they have. Do with that as you will.”
This fucking asshole.
He’s actually implying I’m nothing more than a hole to Hunter—a means to an end.
“I’m terribly sorry if that’s howyoufunction. Though I would argue the caliber between yourself and Hunter is vastly different,” I shoot back. “Regardless, whatever is happening is between me and Hunter. It has nothing to do with you.”
There’s really no point in denying it. It’s obvious he knows, so lying would only make matters worse. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. In retrospect, I probably should have had this conversation with the guys in case this happened—so we were all on the same page and had the exact story. But all I can do is just wing it and hope I don’t fuck us up too much.
A few seconds of silence pass between us, the Dean leaning back in his leather chair indifferently. “There’s little reason to suggest I’m wrong,” he finally replies. “After all, it was Hunter’s idea not too long ago to leave you in the Ridgeview Valley warehouse overnight. Of course, I supported it completely. I was most impressed with his commitment to upholding our sacred beliefs.”
I hate how much that stings. More so, I hate how much it bothers me when, let’s be real, I already knew that. It’s no secret that Hunter had acted on his own, handcuffing me to the table the night before Mom’s funeral. I guess I had put it out of my mind with all our newer problems recently.
It would be stupid to dismiss the past entirely. But we’ve all done our fair share of shit to each other. I’m not innocent either. We’re past that though. Now, we’re some weird and deranged version of theSuicide Squad. The only way to move forward is to let go of the hate.
