MrD: Tsk tsk. Your first week and you’re already fighting.
I know I shouldn’t be surprised. This guy has stalking down to a science. But damn. I’m becoming more and more suspicious that it’s not the father but one of the guys themselves. How else would he already know I got in a fight? The Dolce boys are still at school, at the pep rally. As soon as I came home, I saw the little message up on the screen of the computer, which Mom left on.
BadApple: no comment
MrD: Don’t you want to thank me for getting you out of trouble?
BadApple: Gotta hear this. How exactly r u taking credit for this one?
MrD: No one’s pressing charges, are they?
BadApple: I’m guessing u already know the answer 2 that
MrD: I do.
BadApple: fishing 4 compliments much???
MrD: You’re welcome.
BadApple: U R insufferable
MrD: Glad I could help.
BadApple: Again, what?
MrD: I told her father I wouldn’t press charges if he didn’t, either.
I stare at the screen for a long moment. The school told me my parent had agreed not to press charges. Obviously, I assumed they meant my mother, since I don’t have a father. A chill wraps around me when I think about just how much influence this guy must have. He has himself on my contacts for school? They called him instead of my mom?
Which means Mom might not even know I was fighting at school, and I’d like to keep it that way and spare myself an ass-chewing. I’m glad I walked in and saw the chat box open on the computer before she did.
BadApple: U told them u were my dad? Pervy.
MrD: Call me daddy; )
BadApple: barf
MrD: Aside from the fight, are you settling in okay?
I think about the hollow feeling in my chest after school today, when everyone else was doing something together, and I walked away. I’m not used to that kind of unity in a school. Faulkner High is so big that there were always lots of kids like me, more interested in skipping school than going to a pep rally. I’m not going to whine to this weirdo about that, though. Coming home was my choice. I could have stayed.
BadApple: Yep.
MrD: Took you a while to answer.
BadApple: Don’t psychoanalyze me. Maybe I was taking a dump.
MrD: Are you ready to work for me?
BadApple: Sry, not a cam girl
MrD: I need you to get inside one of the most exclusive groups in WHPA and report back to me.
BadApple: wut
I stare at the screen, the little green rectangle cursor blinking back at me like a sightless eye. So, this is where all this was heading all along? I knew he wanted something, that nothing in life is free, but damn. I thought he’d want nudie pics or to meet up and fuck. I could have said no to those things.
I suppose I can say no to this, too.