I didn't even get the chance to tell my mom what I had done before, the very next day, I was already watching her walk toward classroom "209" with a look full of anxiety. I let out a heavy sigh, trailing slowly behind her, already anticipating the lecture I was about to get. And the punishment? Well… intrigue, baby, intrigue.
Giving me one last strict look—at her problem child—she stepped confidently inside, while I, naturally, stayed behind in the empty hallway, waiting. I had no desire to be present during the interrogation. Besides, no one had exactly asked for me to be there—the teacher had clearly said: "I want to see your parents."
But not being inside doesn't mean not listening. And I was dying to hear their lively discussion about my utterly shameful act. So, without a second thought, I pressed my head against the slightly open door and perked up my ears like antennas.
There, inside the classroom were my mom, the biology teacher, and our vice principal—Mrs. Stone. Interesting… when did she even find out? The only one missing for a full lineup was my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Natalie Derrickson—but fortunately for her, she had fallen ill and taken sick leave. Almost like she saw this coming!
Naturally, the vice principal took the initiative to start the conversation, roaring like an enraged lion:
"This is simply outrageous! Utterly disgraceful!"
Her voice rang out so sharply that my ears almost curled from the pitch. It felt like if someone had placed a glass in front of her at that moment, it would have shattered into a thousand pieces from the sheer force of it.
"Such actions tarnish the reputation of the school!"
Oh, so now it's about the school's reputation, isn't it? Right. So when Walker from the other group pulls some insane stunt—something so outrageous it makes your eyes pop out—that's perfectly fine. But the one and only time in my life I decide to slightly fix my work—a test, mind you, nothing more—and suddenly the school's reputation is about to hit rock bottom. Of course. As always.
If there was one thing Stone truly excelled at, it was making a bid deal out of nothing. And not just big—a massive one, too.
"So what happened to the girl? She used to be exemplary, a straight-A student, and now—look at this—she commits such a disgrace, sneaking into the teacher's supply room to replace her paper!"
Excuse me, ma'am—not replace, fix! Just a little. Honestly, I swear, the urge to blurt that out—loud and sharp enough to put our dear, overinflated Lana back in her place—was overwhelming. But I stayed silent, like a proper little partisan, not giving away even the slightest hint that I was right there behind the door. Yes, standing there. Eavesdropping. Committing a full-on sin.
Suddenly, Stone went quiet, cutting herself off mid-sentence, and an intense silence filled the room. Ah, I'd bet a hundred that it was because of my mom—and that piercing, almost magnetic look she must have given the vice principal. Yeah, Mom knew exactly how to shut people up without a single word. One look—and that's it. Thoughts glitch into a full-on "Error 404," the tongue goes numb, and any desire to argue just… disappears.
Even Mrs. Stone, who could scare an entire senior class with her presence, backed down.
"I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding," my mother said calmly, and I was certain her face carried that same perfectly controlled composure.
"And how exactly is this a misunderstanding, Mrs. Stryker?" Stone continued, lowering her tone but not her persistence. "The teacher caught her red-handed. Probably rushing to fix her failing grade."
Oh, she never liked me, our vice principal—honestly. I never gave her a reason to lecture me or, if possible, drive me out of school, but now I'd made one unforgivable mistake. Peeking through the crack in the door, I noticed the biology teacher hesitate for a moment when he was suddenly dragged into the conversation.
What, already regretting it? Serves you right, pathetic excuse for a teacher.
"Not a failing grade, Mrs. Stone—a B," he corrected. Even the vice principal seemed taken aback for a second. At least she didn't gape in shock. But not my mother. No, she definitely knew exactly why I had gone to such measures. Radical ones… and very shameful.
And just a moment later, the whole discussion took a completely different turn. A total one-eighty. They agreed that extra lessons with Collins would help me understand the material and pull my grade up to an A.
Wait—what? Extra lessons? With our new biology teacher? Mom, have you completely lost it agreeing to this? I mean, I knew she'd been looking for a replacement for Mrs. Johnson to tutor me, even after my promise—but to agree this quickly to our vice principal's brilliant idea? Suspicious. Did no one else want to take me?
To say I was thrilled would be the understatement of the century. Collins tried to refuse at first, saying he didn't have time, but when his eyes met mine—while I was still peeking through the crack, clearly radiating irritation, annoyance, and pure protest—he suddenly agreed, promising to "find the time" to work with me.
For some reason, I'm absolutely sure he did it just to spite me.
That bastard.
He'll regret it.
I had barely managed to jump away from the door and put on a face like I was deeply fascinated by the incredibly interesting white ceiling above me, standing by the window, when the door flew open and my mother—no less intense after the discussion—stepped out.
Throwing me a serious look that revealed absolutely nothing else, she arched her left eyebrow and started down the corridor. I followed. The sharp clicking of her heels echoed off the walls as she moved so fast that I could barely keep up in my sneakers.
What, not even a word? No lecture, no yelling, no dramatic nerve-wracking scene? Or was she just waiting to reach some quiet place without witnesses? But the hallway was already empty.
I let out a relieved sigh, already starting to celebrate the absence of punishment—when, of course, that hope was crushed instantly.
"The keys, sweetheart."
Oh no. No, not that. Not my precious iron horse. She couldn't do this to me!
"Mo-om…" I whined, shooting her a pleading look. But she remained completely firm—no expression of mine, no matter how pitiful, could change her decision. And I should say, it was a rather harsh one.
"How am I supposed to get to school then?" I tried to convince her that taking my motorcycle would hurt her more than me, throwing out any argument I could think of to change the punishment.
"On foot."
Mrs. Diana Stryker was absolute—ruthless and entirely unmoved by my objections. When she said something, it had to be done. Immediately. The dictator traits in her had really developed once she became the head of a major company in the city. A boss should be like that, sure…
But sometimes—actually, quite often—those orders extended to me, her dear daughter, who didn't even dare to squeak in protest.
"At least you'll finally wear a dress or a skirt instead of those jeans all the time," Mom softened slightly, throwing me a brief glance.
A skirt?
Mom, you've clearly forgotten just how much I hate that particular piece of clothing. And not just hate—I despise it. Truly.
Fighting hard against the irritation bubbling inside me, I still had to hand over the keys to my mother. But at home. I had to get back somehow, after all—and I definitely wasn't leaving my motorcycle in the schoolyard. Annoying, frustrating, but… whatever.
A family dinner. Dad was about to leave tomorrow, and it felt like we should've talked about a million things we hadn't yet touched on, laughed as much as possible, done all the things we hadn't had time for. But no.
A heavy, almost suffocating silence hung over the dining room. I could hear my own steady breathing without even trying, and the tension between us grew thicker with every passing second, as if it might crush us at any moment.
Dad picked at his food, occasionally glancing at me, then at Mom. At some point during dinner, unable to hold it in, he let out a short chuckle.
"Excuse me, dear, did you sneeze?" my mother asked, giving him a puzzled look.
"No," Dad couldn't hold it anymore. Dropping his fork onto the plate, he burst into laughter.
At first, Mom and I exchanged confused looks, trying to keep straight faces, then turned to him as if he'd completely lost his mind. But his laughter—damn it—was contagious.
First, I let out a small laugh. Then Mom did. And soon, the kitchen filled with the utterly ridiculous laughter of all three of us.
We didn't know why.
We didn't know what for.
But we laughed—
sincerely, freely, joyfully.
"Well, honestly, girls," Dad said, still smiling, "it was scary just looking at you. I'm almost afraid to imagine, Lily, what exactly you did that was so terrible."
"It wasn't terrible at all," I frowned deliberately, pressing my lips into a thin line, trying to hold back another wave of laughter.
"Just stupid and embarrassing," Mom finished for me, clearly amused by now. Just like me.
Dad gave me a look that said, "I'm waiting, princess. Go on, tell me what happened," while Mom turned toward me, nodding as if urging me to hurry up and explain.
"Well…" I suddenly grew serious, clasping my hands together and resting my chin on them, staring somewhere past where Dad was sitting. And damn it, I felt kind of embarrassed—like I was back there in the biology classroom, under Collins' piercing gaze. "I just wanted to… fix my test a little. So I snuck into the supply room."
I let out a heavy sigh, offering a guilty smile and a small shrug. Well, Dad wouldn't yell or judge me, and Mom had already given me a lecture… and the punishment—damn it.
"My little sinner," Dad looked at me with mock pity, then leaned over the table and gently patted my head. "What a thing to come up with."
"Oh, don't worry," Mom wagged her index finger at me in a warning gesture. "You will learn your biology. So well that such foolish ideas won't even cross your mind again."
I smirked in response, inwardly relieved that we didn't have biology tomorrow. I'd never really liked that subject anyway.
But now?
Now I was starting to hate it.
Maybe my stupid little stunt had something to do with that…
Or maybe not.
Who knows?