“Other noises? “
I bit my lip and looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes and delivering what I hoped would be The Silencer.
“My stepmother has … guests. Well, one guy in particular. It’s … uncomfortable to be around at those times especially, but—” I shrugged “—you know.”
My implication hung in the air for a moment, before he finally had the decency to look embarrassed and avert his eyes.
The truth was, the only objectionable sounds I’d ever heard coming from my stepmother’s room when my father was away were strains of Rod Stewart albums and, on one memorable occasion, the Partridge Family. And, more embarrassingly, her thin voice singing along.
But the headmaster didn’t know that.
The closest thing Meredith had to a male guest was Todd, the flaming interior decorator she’d employed for years who kept trying to leave chintz throw pillows on my bed. Apparently the mess in my room was “insulting” to him.
But the headmaster didn’t know that either.
“Really.” He didn’t say it like he wanted an answer. So I kept talking.
“Um, yeah. I mean I have to see him like five days a week, you know? That’s what makes it even worse.” I tried to look tortured for a moment. It was true; Todd was there all the time. Since Meredith didn’t have a job, she had nothing better to do than to redecorate every room in my house from bottom to top, baseboard to crown molding. I also suspected Todd might be one of her best friends.
I wasn’t sure if that was sad or not.
“That must be difficult,” he agreed, looking hesitant.
I nodded. Now it was time to get back on track.
“Listen, I’m not really comfortable talking about this,” I said, and it was true.
“The point is that I think it’s been hard at home, and it’s been hard in class.”
He paused.
“I certainly am sorry to hear about your trouble at home, but I still don’t see what one has to do with the other.”
Why wasn’t he letting this go?
I floundered, trying to wrap it up in a way that made sense.
“Well, how would you like to have the two people who hate you most plotting together about your future for their own convenience?” I was embarrassed at how clear the hurt was in my voice.
But Mr. Ransic had already lost patience.
“Miss Duke, I still don’t see what you’re talking about, and the point—”
“What I’m talking about is my stepmother and Mr. Ezhno’s little private …'rendezvous.'” I was raising my voice a little bit more, not having realized how mad I was about this until now. All the parent-teacher conferences that Meredith left saying what a “nice man” Mr. Ezhno was, and how “we both” just want the best for me, and that this kind of behavior wouldn’t “cut it in college.”
“I mean, why should I have to suffer because my teacher is, like, in love with my stepmom and he’s trying to impress her or whatever by scheming with her?”
I was practically panting.
“Are you saying—”
“I’m saying it’s personal,” I spat.
“Not professional. Not academic. Per-son-al.”
Mr. Ransic finally looked like he didn’t know what to say. Thank God. It was about time he pulled his nose out of my business. Whether it was imaginary business or not.
At last, looking as if he had a speculative grasp on the situation and the fact that Mr. Ezhno and Meredith had something personal against me and that I needed help, not punishment, he said something about his busy day and stood up to open the door for me. I walked out, finally free from being judged.
Two HOURS LATER, I WAS in the locker room with Michelle, one of my best friends. Our gym lockers were next to one another, which was convenient for my venting.
“I was seriously only thirty seconds late. And it wasn’t even my fault! It was his beloved Meredith’s fault.”
“Yeah, that sucks.” Michelle pulled on her shorts. She’d had them since freshman year, and they didn’t really fit her anymore.
“You know, you should really buy new shorts this year. Those are getting a little tight on your hips. I think they’ll order some for you if they don’t have your size.”
I pulled on mine, which I’d been forced to buy two sizes too big because I got stuck with one of the last pairs before I knew they could just order them, and my father had told me to deal with them (his go-to response whenever I complained—it really sucks that he’s not a pushover). Meredith had said, in that irritatingly sweet way of hers, that maybe I’d grow into them. Yeah, right, like I’d ever let myself go up two sizes.
They were constantly slipping down, putting me an inch away from embarrassment every time.
“Mine, on the other hand, are huge.” I pulled on the waistband, and looked down at my sneakers through the pant legs.
“Okay, so what happened when you came in late?” Michelle asked sharply.
“Basically, he sent me to the office with this totally stupid note talking about how I’m some kind of menace. Ugh, and he said something about me distracting other students who were trying to pay attention.”
I watched Michelle for an aghast reaction, and was disappointed to see her fiddling with the cord on her shorts.
I kept talking.
“It was so stupid. So then I had to wait for like, ever, with three of Winchester Prep’s Least Wanted.” I looked expectantly at Michelle again.
She was tugging violently on her waistband now.
“Are you even listening, Michelle? Or are you just going to rip your pants trying to make them fit?”
She looked up, like she’d forgotten I was there.
“Oh, sorry, go on, I was listening.”
I sighed.
“So, finally I go in, right, and then I’m about to be super-nice and just say something about how I promised not to be late anymore, and how homework’s been hard lately, possibly start crying, and then …” I paused for emphasis “… Mr. Ezhno actually called the office to tell him that not only was I late but that I was disruptive or whatever.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. So then I knew I was going to have to think fast, and really all I wanted to do was to get out of there, right? So I start talking about
