FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
McSlut
XIII. The Snitch and His Whore
The issue of The Lakeview Bugle that included Harry’s interview with Dora was the highest selling issue ever. People were clambering to read about the anonymous interview with a football player that caused the scandal of the century. Of course, if anyone reading knew the real scandals going on at their school, this wouldn’t seem so bad. The interview caused an investigation of the football from the principal’s office.
Harry’s teammates weren’t smart enough to lay the blame on Harry. How could their saving grace be the snitch? Harry wasn’t even under investigation; his grades hadn’t mysteriously risen in the past month. For pretty much all of his high school career he’d maintained a B average. But still, Harry felt nervous whenever he passed a football player in the hallway or gave them a high five at practice. Could they suspect him?
The first to be discovered cheating was Arnold Cheverly. He’d left a copy of one of the tests lying in his locker. The coach had announced it at practice. Every day Harry grew wary of being discovered.
“You’re the one who talked to Dora?” Natalie asked, incredulous.
Harry twiddled his thumbs. “Well, yeah,” Harry said. They hadn’t talked much since the fight about cheating. He stared at his feet, waiting for Natalie to say something. They were standing outside the school building, in front of his car after school. Harry had begged Natalie to meet him their so they could talk.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Well – I dunno,” Harry said lamely. “I just don’t want to be mad at you anymore. I love you. So can we just forget about our stupid fight.”
For a nanosecond, a smile cracked on Natalie’s face, but then it returned to a definite frown. “I don’t know,” she said slowly, studying Harry. “You said some pretty mean things...”
When she said that, Harry knew she would forgive him, if he said the right things. She just wanted things to go her way. She wanted him to be the wrong one; and he was okay with that. He just wanted her back. He sighed and looked properly forlorn.
“You’re right, I did,” Harry said. “I feel simply awful, I shouldn’t have said those things. Is there anyway I can make it up to you?”
Natalie paused for a moment and set her finger on her chin, as if in thought. “Well...” Natalie said. “I suppose I might be able to think of something. Start by driving me home. We’ll se where it goes from there.”
Harry smiled. “You’re wish is my command,” he said cheekily and opened the door for Natalie with a majestic sweep of his hand.
“I’ve done it!” Sara cried as she flopped onto Jen’s bed that afternoon. It had been several days since their last meeting, there had always been something getting in the way of them meeting.
“You got the pictures of them?” Jen asked as Sara tossed Jen her phone.
Jen flipped open her phone and quickly went to the pictures, then immediately put her phone down in disgust. “Ew.”
Sara chuckled. “I know, disgusting,” she said. “But we can post these now!”
“Let’s wait,” Jen said.
Sara raised an eyebrow, surprised. Wait for what? “What – why?” Sara asked.
“Well if we did it now, we’d just be riding on the back of the whole football scandal,” Jen said. “But if we did it, say, the day before prom, we’d cause major havoc. Plus, as a bonus, Natalie’s chances for prom queen would be slim to none. If we did it now, it might cool down by prom.”
Sara smiled at her partner in crime. “You’re a genius,” she said smoothly.
Jen shrugged her shoulder with a smile. “I try my best.”
A loud ding! made Mrs. Jules look up from the pan she was scrubbing. Sitting on the kitchen counter was Jen’s phone, plugged into its power adapter. Curious, Mrs. Jules found her way over to it and flipped it open. After glancing at the text message (a trivial question about the homework from Sara), curiosity overwhelmed her. What did her daughter keep on her phone? Mrs. Jules had never been one to snoop before, but at that moment, she couldn’t resist.
She opened up the menu and clicked on messages. She glanced through them and found them strikingly ordinary. She exited out of the messages and headed over to the photos. What she found there shocked her. Hurriedly, she selected the photos and sent them in an email to herself. She set the phone down and left it there.
Why did Jen have pictures of Neil and what appeared to be another student kissing and doing other things on her phone? More importantly, why was Neil doing those things with anyone else, let alone a student? After finding her way to the kitchen phone she dialed Neil’s number. It went to voice mail.
“Neil?” Mrs. Jules said. “We need to talk, call me back when you get this message.”
Neil had called Julia back the next morning and they had scheduled to get together for coffee during his lunch break. He sat at the coffee shop, wondering what was so urgent. After a few moments of waiting he saw Julia enter, a large purse hanging over her shoulder and an angry expression on her face. She slammed into the seat across from Neil.
“Hey Julia,” Neil said cautiously. “Is everything all right?”
Julia glared at him. “You tell me, poo-bear,” she said, and fished two pieces of paper out of her purse. She slammed them on the table and they revealed two printed out pictures of him and Natalie, together.
“Where – where did you get these?” he asked, mortified.
Julia pursed her lips. “Does it matter?” she asked. “Isn’t she – isn’t she one of your students?”
Neil bit his lip nervously, unsure of what to say. “Well – er...” Neil said slowly.
“Is she, or isn’t she?” Julia asked tersely.
“Yes,” Neil said, so quietly, Julia could hardly hear him.
Julia’s expression turned to pure disgust. “You disgust me,” she said. She snatched up the pictures, stuffed them in her purse and got up. She turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Neil sat there, horrified. What was going to happen now? Would Julia show the pictures to the principal? Would she ever forgive him? Did he care? Who had taken those pictures, and why? There were so many questions, none of which the 24-year-old teacher knew the answer to.
