I spoke through my teeth. “You. Have. To.”
“I can’t,” he whispered.
“I can’t risk it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Smithson stand up and walk toward us. I shushed Brett, who was no longer making any noise, and went back to my test. My heart was beating so hard, I was sure she would see the pounding in my chest. I circled the other answers that Brett had put down and answered the two following without reading the questions. I heard her soft, non-heeled steps come closer and finally stop in front of our desks.
“Could you two please step out into the hall?”
There were times when I was trying to get away with something but felt positive that the fact that I was practically swallowing my face would give me away.
This was one of those times.
How was this possible? Out of absolutely nowhere, everything I did today was failing. Nothing was going my way. And truthfully? That’s not how my life works.
I looked up to see Brett’s panicked glare and then Miss Smithson’s disappointed gaze. We walked out into the echoing hall and she followed us. Once in the hall, she headed for the staff lounge a few doors down.
Brett and I stood in silence for a few seconds.
“I, um …” I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, whether it would come out as an apology or as an accusation. I didn’t have time to decide because, at that moment, Miss Smithson came out of the lounge. Chubby little Ms. Chase, whose mouth was full of food and who had clearly just been pulled from her lunch period, followed.
Ms. Chase waved jovially at Brett and me, and then walked into the NSL classroom to chaperone. To make sure no one else was cheating, I guess.
What was I going to do if my father found out about this? He was no tyrant, but he would definitely find cheating unacceptable. There would be angry words. Punishment. Disappointment. Though that might be my own, once Meredith was proven right about me. That I could not handle.
When I had done something wrong was the only time I was even a little not-horribly-resentful that my mother had died in a car accident when I was seven. That way I had only one parent I worried about, one stepparent I couldn’t care less about and one parent I tried never to think about.
I was so busy worrying about what my father was going to say when he found out that when Miss Smithson spoke, I was surprised.
“Cheating,” she said, looking far more intimidating than I had initially suspected, “is an unacceptable act of behavior. I must say I am disappointed.”
I thought nastily of asking her how in the world she could be disappointed in us when she didn’t know us to begin with.
She continued on.
“Now which one of you wants to explain to me what happened?”
If I had been a cartoon character, there would have been an exclamation point over my head.
She wanted one of us to explain.
She didn’t know which one of us had done the cheating. I wasn’t dead, not yet. My next words came tumbling from my mouth faster than I could think them through.
“I tried to tell him to stop, Miss Smithson. I know it’s wrong to talk during a test, but I didn’t know what else to do.” I looked her in the eyes, and tried to look as sincere as possible.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Smithson, really.”
I knew it was wrong to cheat. I knew it was wrong to lie. I knew it was wrong to push someone in front of a speeding train. But all I could think at that moment was that I had to get out of trouble.
And somehow, miraculously, it looked like I might.
“Brett, is this true?” Miss Smithson’s gaze shifted to him. I could feel his eyes on me.
“I was trying to tell her not to cheat!” The pure rage in his voice shook me.
Miss Smithson had seen it all before.
“You’re either going to agree here on who it was, or you’re both going to be punished to the full extent.” She watched us, waiting for one of us to say something.
“I understand,” I said. One of the things I understood was that Brett was going to get in trouble for something he didn’t do. I knew that I would probably be in the same amount of trouble either way, and that I was dragging Brett down with me. I also knew that this was the perfect chance to tell the truth.
But I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why.
And then I made it all worse by remembering the note Brett had passed me. I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to Miss Smithson.
“See? You can see that it’s his, because it’s the corner of the first page on his test.” It was from him. The words were his. The meaning, however, had shifted to suit me.
“See, he said he couldn’t do it, and that I had to do the work. For him.”
Miss Smithson took the piece of paper from my outstretched hand. Lifting her glasses from the chain that hung them around her neck, she read it.
“Did you write this?” she asked Brett, peering at him over the top rims of her lenses, which were scooted down her nose.
I was banking on him starting with the truth.
He did.
“Yes, but—” Brett said, desperately trying to explain what I had done. It was too late.
“All right then,” she finally said, “gather your things and go to the office. Miss Duke, I know it doesn’t feel like you’ve done anything wrong, but you’ll have to go explain what happened to the headmaster. I’ll call to let him know you’re coming.”
On the way to the office, I kept my face pointed purposefully in front of me, terrified to make eye contact with Brett. Not that I would have if I had looked at him, because he wouldn’t look at me either. I didn’t blame him; he must have been disgusted with me. I wanted to fix it, but it was too late. If I said something now, I’d be in even more trouble.
Trouble I couldn’t afford. And something in me knew that I would never have chosen to be noble and do the right thing. There was no taking it back. I always took the self-preservation route.
But maybe I could explain to Brett why I really couldn’t get in trouble right now. Last time I’d gotten in trouble, my father had given me this death stare he’s awesome at, and told me that I didn’t even want to know how much things would change if I got in trouble again at school.
“Listen, Brett—”
“Shut up, Bridget.”
I gasped and resolved to stick to my lie when I spoke to the headmaster. Perhaps even make up some more lies.
CHAPTER THREE
I spent the afternoon trying to forget how awful school had been for the past two days. I tried to forget the meeting in the office about Mr. Ezhno, the conversation with Anna, the test, the consequent second meeting in the office and seeing Liam with Anna everywhere.
They never looked romantic, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be. I knew Liam to be the perfect gentleman, one who would be very cautious not to rush things. Ever again, anyway.
The second meeting with Headmaster Ransic had been awful. It was like I was hypnotized into lying again and again.
Of course, I was not hypnotized, and didn’t have the luxury of having that as an excuse. I was just watching my own back and no one else’s. I had spoken to Headmaster Ransic before Brett, given my story—and it was a story—and