“Crew…”
“No, don’t tell me to stop. And don’t make excuses for him either.” Crew lowers his voice, his intense gaze meeting mine. “If we’re lucky, his ass is about to get arrested. Maybe even today. I thought they were going to do it over the weekend. He needs to know he can’t come around you anymore. He even looks in your direction and I don’t like it? I’m kicking his ass.”
I’m gaping at him, shocked by the words he’s saying. “Are you serious?”
“I protect what’s mine,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing with anger.
Everything inside me melts at the way he said that. The look on his face, how he’s touching me. The fact that he’s wearing my ring around his neck. His behavior is so archaic and sexist, yet a part of me loves it.
That he believes I belong to him.
There’s a rapid-fire knock on the closed classroom door, and just as Figueroa stands to answer it, Headmaster Matthews strides inside, his gaze frantic when he scans the classroom before he says, “We need you in the office, Mr. Figueroa. Right away.”
Fig stands, swallowing visibly. I pull away from Crew’s grip, facing the front of the classroom, my gaze going to the empty seat beside me.
Maggie isn’t in class. That’s probably a good thing.
Two men and a woman suddenly enter the classroom, all of them wearing dark suits. They give off that cop vibe, and when the female pulls out a pair of handcuffs, I realize my instincts are correct.
“David Figueroa, you’re under arrest,” the woman says as the two males flank either side of Fig and grab his arms before he can get away.
Not like he was trying. Defeat is written all over him.
“Hands behind your back,” she says as the other detectives turn Fig, so his back is to her. The woman lists the charges. Contributing to the sexual delinquency of a minor. Inappropriate sexual behavior with a minor. Sexual misconduct. The list goes on for a while.
Our teacher is in massive trouble. I don’t see him ever recovering from this.
And them arresting him in front of us is sending a message to the entire school. He’s been caught.
Finally.
They haul him out, Fig’s head hanging down the entire time, all of us in the classroom deathly quiet. We’re all in shock. I know I am, and I even had a heads-up.
Matthews stops in the open doorway, contemplating all of us. “Don’t worry about the final. You all got an A on it,” he says.
Right before he turns and leaves.