Chapter Thirty-One

Amber

NightLocker: Please talk to me

NightLocker: Let me explain

NightLocker: Pixie...I’m sorry

NightLocker: There are things you don’t understand

I tucked my fingers under my arms, ignoring the tingle to respond immediately.

Damn straight I don’t understand.

Betrayal stung like a paper cut while opening a package of lemonade mix.

My heart hurt. Like, I’d been burned before…but this? This physically turned my stomach and seared my chest.

This…

This was true heartbreak.

This was can’t sleep, can’t eat unless its chocolate, can’t breathe without sharp spikes rattling my lungs, relentless heartbreak.

NightLocker: Give me a chance

NightLocker: I can make this right

NightLocker: I want to...

NightLocker: I need you...DC remember? Doesn’t that mean anything anymore?

Tears stung my eyes as I read his pleas. His use of our secret word, a code that had become something so much more than a warning. Something as vital as breathing and as true as the ache in my heart.

Some deep part of me, the one he’d branded his name on, wanted to forgive him. Needed to.

Because who was I to judge…after what I’d done?

I should forgive him. I should tell him the truth about what I knew.

But what was the point? Once he uncovered it…once he learned what I’d really done…

He’d hate me.

I reached for the keyboard, the motion almost painful.

NightLocker: I need you...DC remember? Doesn’t that mean anything anymore?

PixieBurn: everything & nothing

NightLocker: Amber

NightLocker: Please

NightLocker: What does that even mean

I paused my response, choking back a sob.

It didn’t matter. He’d find out soon enough.

Might as well endure the break now.

I just wished like hell it didn’t have to hurt so damn much.

PixieBurn: It means

PixieBurn: Hack my gear like this again

PixieBurn: for a chat

PixieBurn: for help

PixieBurn: for anything

PixieBurn: and I’ll crash your entire system

I hated myself a fraction more with each message sent.

NightLocker: No!

NightLocker: Amber

NightLocker: Listen to me

God, did I want to. I wanted him to not be breaking into my system, showing up on my screen…I wanted him here. Telling me we could find our way back to common ground, or, hell, hit the reset button and start fresh. Erase every dark piece of our past.

But this was real life.

And it was heavy and hard and harsh.

PixieBurn: goodbye, Dean

I logged off and shut my gear down. He couldn’t find me if I wasn’t online.

Unless he shows up at my door…again.

My heart skipped at the thought—it betraying me as much as he had.

I’d barely survived his friendship, his light…

I certainly wouldn’t survive his hate, his disappointment, the way he’d judge me when he knew…

It didn’t matter that I’d blocked him after his first attempt to send me a chat box—he’d found his way back in.

It had only been a day since he’d wrecked me, and he was already trying to apologize. That meant something, but even if I wanted to forgive him, he’d never be able to forgive me once Tessa told him the truth. About the blog, my blog, harming her. Led her in the wrong direction.

I cringed, knowing I needed to find a way to talk to her. To make things right.

But I’d barely caught my breath since yesterday, and I had about ten minutes before my parents and I had to have a meeting with Principal Tanner.

Another shudder.

It shouldn’t matter that he would likely find a way to jack with my potential MIT acceptance. Tessa’s predicament was so much more important than that, but I couldn’t help the sinking, hollow feeling in my chest. Whatever Tanner had planned for me…

I deserved it.

“You ready?” Mom asked from my doorway, causing me to jump.

“Yeah,” I said, spinning in my chair. I left my gear in my room as I followed her out. I didn’t need it. Not for this meeting.

Dad drove, and with Mom in the passenger seat, I felt like I was ten years old again, not eighteen. Silent, my arms folded over my chest like that could hold me together—it could’ve been the time I’d got caught sneaking out after dark to meet Hannah for a midnight pool party. They were more upset that I’d gone behind their backs than with the act itself.

Kind of like today, except they supported me.

Something I was grateful for after this blog had cost me so much.

And yet, it had helped heal me, too. How was that possible?

Ms. Howard waved at me encouragingly from behind her desk as we passed her office, the look of confusion on her face indicating Tanner hadn’t told her about me yet. Once again, I wished she was Wilmont’s principal. Someone who put students’ well-being first. Someone who listened and understood and went the extra mile to ensure everyone was getting what they needed.

I waved back before following my parents inside Principal Tanner’s office as he held the door open for us. A smug, self-satisfied smile on his face as he closed the door behind him.

Mom, Dad, and I all took a seat in front of his massive desk, the silence in the room near deafening. Tanner took his time walking around his desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and finally plopping down on his plush leather office chair.

“Dr. and Mrs. Henderson,” he said, pressing his index fingers together and bringing them to a point under his chin. “We spoke briefly yesterday regarding why all of you are here today.” He glanced at my parents, his eyes darting back and forth between the two like he was waiting for something—an apology or an outburst over my actions. Something.

They were silent.

I almost laughed.

The cold churning in my stomach killed that urge.

“Right,” he continued. “Amber,” he said, looking directly at me. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

I parted my lips, but then closed them.

Tanner sighed. “I thought not,” he said, dismissing me and returning focus to my parents. “Your daughter has cost this school gravely.” He shook his head. “The content she hand-fed to my students, and countless other schools, is deplorable. It is no example for a Wilmont graduate or an MIT hopeful.”

“You can’t possibly plan to not let her graduate,” Mom said. “There are barely two months left in the school year. And she deserves to go to MIT as well. You know that.”

Tanner laid his hands flat on his desk. “This behavior cannot go unchecked,” he said, glancing at me. “Regardless if she’s only my student for two more months.”

“Not graduating or putting a barrier between her and the acceptance letter that I’m sure is on its way soon,” Dad said, “seems a little harsh considering the circumstances.”

Tanner’s eyes cut to Dad’s, the glare sharp as a razor. “The circumstances?” He tilted his head and pointed at me. “Your daughter created a website that condones teenage sexual activity. Not to mention recounted stories of rape attempts, sex changes, and even more subjects not worth repeating. It was practically a promotion for it with handbooks on sexual acts provided.”

“What?” I snapped, finally finding my voice.

Mom rested her hand on my knee, a warning look in her eyes. I sat back, my lips sealed.

“That is hardly true,” Mom said, her tone soft, respectful. “We have read each of the blog posts several times. There was never an instance where she promoted sex. She merely offered advice for those students who had already participated in such acts.”

Tanner’s jaw clenched, and he motioned to his computer. “I’ve gotten over a hundred emails from outraged parents. Some of whom have direct connections to the district’s board. All of them read the blog very differently.”

“The students came to her,” Dad said, “with questions and concerns they weren’t finding answers for anywhere else.”

“What are you implying, Dr. Henderson?” Tanner asked. “That I’m denying my students knowledge?” he said before Dad could answer.

“I’m saying they came to her. And her responses were carefully constructed and thought out. As a teen psychologist for over two decades, I know a thing or two about handling sensitive subjects. And with the popularity of the blog, she could’ve posted a slew of things merely to get attention, but she didn’t. She took the time and care to answer them without judgment or fear of reprimand.”

“When kids are left without safe places to ask the hard questions, they wind up…” Mom glanced at me, her eyes sympathetic. “They make poor choices out of sheer ignorance. Denying them the option to ask is like putting blinders on them.”

Tanner smirked. “I’m sure a person in your line of work would run this school very differently,” he said. “No topic would be off-limits, would it? I daresay there would be a class that teaches how best to get someone off—”

“That’s enough,” Dad cut him off, his tone lethal. “Watch what you say, Ed.”

My eyes widened at Dad’s use of Tanner’s first name. It sounded like a slap in the face.

“You called us here,” he continued, “to discuss the situation at hand. Don’t make this a personal attack.”

Tanner straightened, a slight nod as if to say he knew he’d gotten carried away. “An example must be made,” he said again. “I’m willing to allow Amber to graduate and to leave her fate at MIT up to the admissions board with no marring on my end…”

My heart filled with hope as I waited for him to finish.

“If she is willing to appear before the entire school and district board and take responsibility for her actions.”

“But—”

Tanner held up a finger, cutting Dad off. “As well as have the appearance live so the other schools affected by her actions can find closure as well.”

“Closure?” Mom rolled her eyes. “That can be achieved with a final statement on the website. A written, heartfelt apology before the site is taken down.”

“That’s not enough,” Tanner said.

“If her identity is confirmed,” Dad said, leaning forward in his chair, “the protesting parents could confront her directly. Not to mention the students. It puts her at risk for emotional backlash at the very least. Physical at the worst.”

Tanner flinched slightly but shook his head. “She should’ve considered that before she created this torrid website.” He folded his hands together. “Those are my terms. If you don’t like it, I’ll be fine with convincing the admissions board at MIT that she’s not the material they’re looking for and to deny her graduation until she completes another year here at Wilmont.”

“You can’t do that,” Dad said.

“I can,” Tanner fired back. “You’re free to pull her and try to complete her year elsewhere, but no one will approve her when they receive my letters explaining her…” He cut his eyes to me. “Character.”

“You son of a—”

“Mom,” I said before she could continue. “It’s fine.” I nodded at Tanner. “I’ll do the assembly, or whatever it is he wants.” I shifted in my seat, rising to stand. My parents following suit as they headed toward the door, this meeting clearly at its end. They waited for me in the entryway, but I stood before Tanner’s desk.

“Know this,” I said, glaring down at him. “I see you. I’ve seen you. And while I’m prepared to stand up and admit what I’ve done, you sit behind your desk and pretend to care.” I sighed. “I’ve been your student for over a decade. And I’m willing to brave the public backlash if it means I don’t have to spend another year with you. Think about that. Let it sink in.”

He rose from his chair, too, and I had to crane my neck to keep our gazes locked.

Nothing.

Not a word I said hit home.

Would it ever? Would there ever be a day when he didn’t value his precious lineage, awards, and grants and rankings over the students who earned it for him?

“Be here tomorrow at nine a.m.” He re-buttoned his suit jacket. “I’ll call a mandatory school assembly with parents in attendance,” he said. “And we’ll make sure it’s live on the school’s site as well, for those who can’t make it, and for our sister schools that you’ve harmed.”

I rolled my eyes. “Your definition of harmed and mine are drastically different.” Yes, guilt bit my insides over what had happened to Tessa, but I never set out to hurt anyone. And through return commenters and emails, I knew I had helped some people. “There are sites that would make you piss your pants,” I whisper-hissed. “Sites run by kids with lists and agendas and hate in their hearts.” Tears pricked my eyes I was so mad. “And you’re upset about this? A little information on something as natural as sex?” I shook my head.

“We’re done here,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.” I turned my back on him.

Mom wrapped an arm around me as we left the building. “You don’t have to do this,” she said as we got in the car.

“We can find a way to get you to graduate. And I can speak with someone in admissions at MIT,” Dad said, pulling out of the school parking lot.

“No,” I said. “This is something I have to do.” I leaned my head against the window as we drove. I hoped my acceptance letter came next week regardless, but even if it didn’t…even if I somehow didn’t get into my dream school, I knew it was all worth it. Those few souls I’d helped feel not so alone? That was worth all of this…agony.

…

I honestly don’t know what spurred me to check the site’s email the morning before the assembly, but I was beyond glad I did.

The relief at Tessa’s email was so fast and needed it almost hurt. The sensation storming me like a whirlwind.

It didn’t change the fact that I was an hour away from going on stage at Wilmont and confessing my role in Ask Me Anything, but my heart…it felt full for the first time in two days.

The shards and cuts from Dean were still there, but this gave me hope. After the assembly, I would seek out Tessa. Talk to her. Let her know I’d be there for her in whatever way I could.

First, I had to survive the assembly.

And pray that no one would be outraged enough to take action against me.

I still had two months to survive here before I graduated.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

Thirty minutes later, my parents filed into the massive seminar room in Wilmont while I sat and waited in the small office attached to it. My knee bounced, the chatter of practically the entire school and their parents vibrating through the closed door.

“Amber.” Ms. Howard’s voice drew my attention away from the palms of my hands. She closed the door behind her, and sank down to my level to meet my eyes. “What is going on?” she asked. “Tanner hasn’t told me, the students, or the board anything.”

“The board is here, then?” My voice was a whisper, my nerves killing any strength I had.

“Yes. Tanner demanded it.”

I nodded, interlocking my fingers to keep them from shaking. He probably thought my admission would be enough to shock them into allowing him to continue as principal. He’d found me, after all, and was holding me accountable. Scrubbing out the dark stain in his perfect, pristine school.

“Amber,” she said. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“I’m beyond help,” I said. “But thank you for the gesture. It means a lot.”

“I refuse to believe that,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on and I’ll find a way to help you.”

I sighed. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything. Everyone in a fifty-mile radius was about to learn the truth, anyway. I opened my mouth, the story tumbling from my lips easier than I imagined. And when I was done, my over-firing nerves had ebbed to a low buzzing.

Ms. Howard pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smile. “You’re so damn brave.”

“What?”

“You are. I can’t believe you’re about to go out there and face this. I admire you so much.”

My cheeks flushed.

“How did he find out?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “I thought you were way too good for him to catch you.”

“I am,” I said. I’d left Dean out of the story. Probably because it wasn’t relevant, but more so because it hurt to think about him. About how much I missed him despite what he’d said. What he’d done.

“Then how…” A gasp cut her off, something clicking in her eyes. “That’s what he was using Dean for.” She ground her teeth.

“You saw him?”

She nodded. “I wanted to get him out of it, but Tanner had something over him. Dean wouldn’t tell me, but whatever it was, it was huge.”

I chewed on my bottom lip.

“I was sure he’d told you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is he out there? I can go get him. Escort him back here.”

“No,” I said too quickly. “He’s at the TOC.” I’d known the date for months. And despite everything, I hoped he won. Hoped he slayed it and earned the recognition he’d been working for all year. Hoped his MIT letter was on its way. He deserved that regardless. “It’s fine. I’m ready to get this over with.”

She patted my leg, standing with me. “I will meet with the board after this is over. Talk to them. See if I can testify to your character and dispute Tanner’s over-exaggerated allegations.”

“Thanks, Ms. Howard,” I said, eyeing the door behind her as it opened and Tanner came inside. “But don’t. You have to stay here. I’ll be gone in two months.”

“Ms. Howard,” Tanner said, holding the door open for her. “It’s past time for you to take your seat. I’ve reserved you one next to me and the board.”

She nodded, glaring at him as she passed him.

I didn’t envy her position—his second in command. I couldn’t imagine how difficult that day-to-day must be. It was amazing she hadn’t quit.

Tanner folded his arms behind his back after he’d shut the door. “Five minutes. Are you prepared?” He scanned my empty hands like I should be holding a stack of note cards with a meticulously crafted speech.

I tipped my chin, not wanting him to see the fear swirling inside me. “Can I ask you a question?”

He smirked. “It’s too late to talk your way out of this.”

“I’m not trying to,” I said. “I’m curious.”

“About?”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“Excuse me?”

I raised my eyebrows, knowing he’d heard me.

“Hardly relevant—”

“It’s an easy question. Was it always to be the principal of a school? Because your dad was? And your grandpa?”

“Yes. Wilmont has always been my birthright.” He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Though, at your age I wanted to be president,” he said. “Or a senator.”

I huffed, wondering how he’d lost the aspirations and knowing he’d be horrible at democracy. Not with the way he ran this school—like a tyrant.

“It’s not too late,” he said. “I could run for mayor. Governor. But Wilmont is too important to me.”

“Right,” I said. “The power you wield here, it means something. Out there?” I jerked my head to indicate the real world outside the school. “Wouldn’t be nearly as much.”

He stiffened, narrowing his gaze. “I’ve prepared a slew of visual evidence to go along with whatever admission of guilt you have prepared,” he said. “It will be as jarring on the projector screens as—”

“As your abstinence video was?” I cut him off, no longer caring about formalities. He was going for the hurt, and I was beyond over it.

“…as on a small screen,” he continued like I hadn’t spoken. He yanked the door open, his arm extended for me to lead the way. “And don’t you worry,” he said, stopping me when I hit the entryway. “Your boyfriend already paid his little sister’s debt for that stunt she pulled at the assembly.”

“What?” I snapped, glancing up at him.

Tessa had planted the video? And he had proof? Enough to force Dean to…

Omigod.

That’s why he’d searched for me. Found me.

For Tessa.

“In case you were feeling like I was singling you out for justice,” he said, stepping out of my way.

“Oh no,” I said. “I know very well how many students you’ve manipulated over the years. Threats for favors. All to keep you on your imagined throne.” Anger swarmed my blood. “Someday, Tanner,” I whisper-hissed, “I’ll laugh as your character is brought to light.”

I walked out of the office and around the corner, fully exposed to the thousands of eyes staring. Halting at the steps that would carry me up the stage, I took a breath and scanned the crowd.

Hannah and Jake sat together, next to my parents. They were behind Ms. Howard and who I assumed was the board in the front row, because Hannah’s mom was seated in the middle of them. Hannah shaped her hand into the universal I love you symbol, and I flashed her a soft smile. She’d hugged me and cursed at me when I’d told her everything—her only anger stemming from the fact that I’d kept a secret from her—but she supported me nonetheless. Jake followed, naturally.

I was lucky.

I had been scared their reactions would be like Dean’s, but it seemed only he had hated what I’d done. Well, him and who knew how many outraged parents.

He’s tried to apologize.

True. But I hadn’t let him. Because I wasn’t sure if he knew about Tessa. And even if she let me off the hook this morning, it was still there. My hand in her situation. Something I’m sure he wouldn’t forgive, and shouldn’t have to, and then the hurt would happen all over again.

So, I had a new wall around my heart, and every brick had Dean’s name chiseled on it.

Another deep breath.

I took one stair, then two.

And as I reached the podium in the center of the stage, the two massive projector screens behind me, I felt as if I’d come full circle. It was in this room where my anger had festered, which led to the idea for the blog in the first place. It was here where Hannah had been desperate for answers she couldn’t find or dare ask.

This room was where it started.

And now it’s where it would end.

I cut my eyes to the left, trailing Tanner as he walked across the room to take his seat. Front and center. His eyes were full of satisfaction.

He should be up here. Being exposed for all the actions he’d taken against students. His secrets should be laid bare. Not mine.

I sighed, gripping the edges of the podium.

He held all the power.

And I was done.

Sickness churned in my stomach, threatening to rise instead of the words I knew I needed to say. To admit.

“I’m sure you’re all ready to figure out why you’re here,” I said into the microphone, my voice echoing loudly in the quiet room. I cringed against the sound, but pushed on. “You’ve been called here today because I—”

Tanner snapped at Mr. Griffin who sat at the computer desk off the stage, effectively cutting me off. Griffin cringed, glancing at me apologetically before he clicked a button, and I saw my website’s homepage fill the screens behind me. Sighing, I turned halfway—enough to look at the audience and my work at the same time.

“Like I was saying,” I said, flashing Tanner an eff-you look. “You’re here because there are things you need to know. Apologies I need to make.” My eyes trailed to where a student had his cell phone out and pointed directly at me. The live feed for all the other schools. At least the kid looked like he didn’t want to be there.

“First, I want to say I’m—” Something flashed on the screens, killing my words.

DC.

It blinked in the bottom right corners of the screen, on my site.

Flickered like a beacon of hope for a ship caught in a storm.

“I, uh…” I stammered, my eyes searching the audience, finding him like he’d been standing in the back all along. Like I knew he’d be there, laptop in hand, his blue-gray eyes full of regret and hope and love.

The TOC. He was supposed to be there, winning. Earning his credibility so a major-company would hire him in the fall. But he was here. I assumed he’d gotten the mass email Tanner sent out yesterday for the assembly, but I didn’t think for one second he’d miss the TOC to come here.

DC.

The letters blinked at me as I released the podium, the fear falling away faster than it had gathered.

DC.

Our code pulsed in rhythm with my heart, each beat pulverizing the bricks I’d laid. Healing, wanting, hoping.

But most of all beating with the knowledge that I was no longer alone.

And this moment was no longer about me.

“Talk.” Tanner mouthed the word, rolling his hand discreetly in front of him.

No one had registered the game-changer I had—the two simple letters that held me frozen in gratitude and hope.

“Sorry,” I said into the mic. “Here’s what you need to know—”

A small murmur echoed through the crowd, stopping me once again. The screens blinked in and out, my website disappearing, and a vid-box replacing it.

The audio filled the room, filtering from the same speakers attached to my mic. But it was no longer my voice hitting the crowd—it was Tanner’s.

“You have no idea what it is like to be responsible for the young minds of the future. I do what I have to—whatever I have to—to ensure their success. What seems harsh to you is what will make this world a better place in the years to come.”

I glanced down to Tanner, wide-eyed. He was frozen in his seat.

“Whatever.” That was Dean’s voice now echoing through the speakers. “This has nothing to do with me. I’m not an errand boy or your personal tech guy.”

“Oh, Mr. Winters,” Tanner said. “You wouldn’t want Tessa to have a black mark on her record before she’s even reached her senior year, would you? I imagine something like jail time or a court date would harm her chances of following you and your brother to MIT someday.

“Are you listening, now, Mr. Winters?”

“Yes,” Dean said.

“Sir,” Tanner said.

“What?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect a report on your progress on Monday. Bright and early.”

“Fine.”

“And, Mr. Winters?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t take too long to find this person,” he said. “For Tessa’s sake.”

The chatter from the crowd grew, whispers and gasps. I locked eyes with Dean, my heart breaking for him.

Beeps and buzzes and “holy shits” rang from the crowd, nearly everyone gaping at their cell phones.

Dean motioned toward the screens.

The motionless vid-box had started to play.

I stared at it, my brow furrowed, as student after student—their faces blurred—recounted stories of their own instances of threats or borderline blackmail by Tanner.

There were so damn many.

Dean—how long had he been gathering this?

I looked to him, and it clicked.

This was his true portion of the challenge. He’d said it was a desktop swap, but no. This was so much more dangerous. More so than my blog. A hack he might not have pulled if not for Tanner’s actions against me.

The audience fell stark silent as the video continued to roll. Tanner bolted from his seat, stomping to Griffin at the computer, who held his hands up in innocence. He couldn’t kill the feed. No one but Dean could unless…

Tanner yanked every plug out of the floor sockets, and the screens and audio went dead. He stomped up to the podium, and I barely had a chance to move before he was hovering over me, the purple vein in his forehead throbbing. He held his hand over the mic like the room wasn’t silent enough for them to catch every word.

“Fix this. Fix this now,” he whisper-snapped. “You tell them you faked that audio. That video.”

“I didn’t,” I said with all honesty. “You did this. You.”

He raked his hands through his hair, a growl at me as he turned to face the audience. “This girl is responsible for Ask Me Anything.” He pointed at me. “She’s the one behind it all.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Everyone was glued to their cell phones—no doubt watching the rest of the video.

“The truth is out there,” I said, watching as the board hovered over one person’s phone. Watching. Learning.

“Your truth will be out there,” he said. “You won’t graduate. You won’t get into another school. And after I call the admissions director at MIT and show them who you are, what you’ve done, they’ll never let you in.”

I gaped up at him, ready to spit fire.

“DC,” Dean’s voice filled the space behind me, and I spared him a glance, using his words to calm the acid eating my nerves.

Focusing back on Tanner, I narrowed my gaze.

“Prove it,” I said before spinning on my heels, leaving him there to clean up the mess he’d taken years to create.