She looked up but didn’t speak, just offered a small wave.
Jim’s eyes went wide as he took her in. “Oh my—”
Was he more surprised by the her injuries—the worst of which he couldn’t see because they were covered by the bright yellow dress—or by the way Twyla looked entirely unlike herself? Either way, Twyla didn’t need to hear his thoughts on the matter. “Come, sit.”
Gunnar gestured Jim to a chair that faced where Twyla sat while he sat on the other side of the couch. Not touching, but hopefully close enough that Twyla could feel his support from across the small gap of cushions.
“How are you feeling, Miss Smith?”
Twyla’s chin dropped and she leveled Principal York with a well-deserved glare. She had a black eye, a split lip, bruises over much of her body, a lump on the back of her head, and her classmates had intended worse. She obviously felt like shit—that was a stupid question. But Twyla seemed to remember herself and instead of giving some snide retort, she took a breath, gathering her patience and looked to him. He nodded back the go-ahead and it pleased him so much for her to look to him for guidance. Someone was getting a reward later.
“Really sore,” she said which was probably the understatement of the year. “Everything hurts. Even with the pain medication the doctor gave me. I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up anymore so that’s nice, but I’m really tired.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
The passive voice Jim used made Gunnar want to punch him. “It didn’t justhappen, Jim. Six of your students did this and I hope they’ll be punished accordingly. I don’t think expulsion would be too harsh. Hell, being arrested and charged with assault would be appropriate.”
Look at her, he wanted to say, but it seemed redundant seeing as how Jim couldn’tstoplooking at Twyla. But was it for the right reasons? He couldn’t say.
“I understand that,” Jim said. “But the situation is delicate. I—”
“The situation is not delicate. They beat and severely injured one of your other students. The damage they did could’ve been much, much worse.”
Twyla could’ve had a concussion, they could have broken her bones. They obviously intended to further sexually assault her and he telegraphed the list of ways those asshole boys could’ve done more damage to Jim. But the principal ignored him, preferring to address the person in the room over whom he felt he had more power.
“You wouldn’t prefer to be at home while you, uh, recover?”
Twyla shook her head and wrung her hands in her lap.
“No. Mr. Fox brought me to my house after I saw the doctor, and my stepdad, he…”
She swallowed and blinked her gaze to him, asking, begging.
“You’ve met Mr. Smith before,” Gunnar supplied, addressing Jim. “You know what he’s like. He blamed Twyla for being attacked and I don’t think her parents are capable of providing the care she needs right now.”
That was about as diplomatic as he could be. Which was fairly diplomatic given that he’d punched Wade Smith in the face the day before.
Jim’s bushy white brows rose halfway up his forehead. “And you are? You’re a young, single man. I don’t have to tell you how this looks.”
“Then don’t,” Gunnar replied flatly. “I have a spare bedroom, I was the one who made sure Twyla received medical attention. I know I’m a bachelor but I cook and maintain regular hours. When school starts back next week I’ll be able to make sure she attends classes. This year we’ll make sure she graduates.”
He snuck a glance at Twyla whose parted lips and wide eyes were a picture of gratitude. He didn’t think just for the place to stay and the meals, either, but for believing in her, that she could finish school. And he did. She was a bright girl who just needed a solid launching pad instead of a crumbling foundation like she’d had for the past nineteen years. She’d show them.
Indeed, he expected for her to show him up too once she got her feet underneath her. He couldn’t wait.
Jim frowned.
“That’s all well and good but the optics…” A shake of his head sent his jowls wobbling.
“Perhaps you should care more about your student than you do about the optics.”
Gunnar was doing his very best to keep his temper in check but it wasn’t easy. With little girls, no matter how bratty, he could muster all the patience in the world. Nearly as much for his students. For grown-ass adults who should give a shit about integrity and what was actually the right thing to do instead of just the way things had always been done or the way things looked? Significantly less.
“Twyla,” Jim said, leaning forward in his chair, hands coming together as if in supplication. “Don’t you have any family you could stay with? A friend, even?”
There was a begging note in his voice, but it wasn’t for forgiveness. Which it fucking well should have been.
“I…I don’t have any family besides my mom. And I…”