Chapter Twenty-One WILLOW

I receive a message notification from Headmaster Westscott via our school app first thing Monday morning. It was sent before I even woke up, at five in the morning, and I frown when I read it, my head still fuzzy from sleep.

Miss Lancaster, please come to my office before school begins. I would like to have a word with you.

Why does he want to talk to me? I feel like I’m in trouble and I haven’t done a thing.

I’m reluctant to start my day, worry gnawing at my insides, and I tell myself to get over it. Crawling out of bed, I take a quick shower and get dressed, deciding it’s better to face this meeting head-on than dawdle and make myself sick with nerves.

I slip out of my dorm suite, ready to sneak past Iris’s door, but it swings open just as I approach, her blonde head popping out. She’s not even fully dressed yet, which isn’t surprising. She thrives on being last minute at everything.

“Where are you going? It’s still so early.”

“Westscott asked me to come to his office,” I tell her, straightening my spine. Trying to pretend I’m not bothered by his request whatsoever.

Iris frowns. “Why does he want to see you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you scared?”

My cousin knows me so well.

“No.” I shake my head, denying my fear.

“Really?” The doubt in her voice is obvious and I give in.

“Well, I’m a little nervous but what could it be about? I haven’t done anything wrong.” My laughter is shaky and I clamp my lips shut.

“You haven’t?” Iris’s brows shoot up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“People are talking, Willow. I tried to tell you that yesterday.”

We were in the library yesterday catching up on our assignments, and as usual, Iris abandoned me for about thirty minutes, choosing to wander around and talk to everyone else who was in there while I diligently finished my American Government homework. She came back to the table to report that people were gossiping about me. And Rhett.

But they’ve been gossiping about us for a week, ever since I sat on his lap at that party over a week ago. Nothing else has really happened around campus, so we’re still the topic of choice, and it’s annoying.

“I doubt Westscott cares about that.”

“I don’t know …” Iris shrugs. “He’s all about appearances.”

“We’re Lancasters,” I say, though she doesn’t need the reminder. I’m the one who needs to hear it more often than her. “We’re the face of the school.”

“He’s got a reputation as well. Maybe he’s upset that a Lancaster is messing around with his top football player.”

“Oh, like he cares.” Does he?

“He might. I don’t know.” Iris backs up, making like she’s going to shut her door when she pauses. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I won’t,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster. “I’ll be fine.”

“You will be. Just—go along with him if he makes any suggestions, okay? You don’t need to be disruptive.”

Her words stick with me the entire time I walk to the admin building.

You don’t need to be disruptive.

Such an un-Iris thing to say. She’s all about disruption. It’s her favorite thing. I’m the calm cousin and she’s the rowdy one. The troublemaker. She lives to disrupt things.

Why would she say that to me?

By the time I’m in the admin office, my mind is a swirl of confusion and I feel completely unprepared. Untethered. I don’t get called to the office to speak to the headmaster. I never have in all my years of attending school. I’m a good girl to the point of annoyance.

“Miss Lancaster, there you are. I’m so glad to see you, and so early.” I’m startled by Westscott’s voice. He’s standing in the open doorway of his office and I realize he’s been waiting for my arrival. “Come in.”

Without a word I enter his office, swallowing hard when he closes the door behind me. The rest of the admin building is quiet and the desks are empty. It’s not even seven-thirty and it appears no one is on duty yet, which is only vaguely disconcerting.

Okay, it’s completely disconcerting. I’m half-tempted to text Iris right now and beg her to come to the office immediately.

“I didn’t want to miss class,” I tell him as I sit in the chair that’s across from his desk.

“I appreciate that about you. I’ve heard from plenty of others that you’re a good student.” He sits down as well, resting his clasped hands on top of his desk.

“Where did you hear that?”

He frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Who told you I was a good student?”

“Why, my staff has informed me of your studious ways.” His smile is gentle. I’d put him at about the same age as my parents, maybe a little older by the looks of the graying hair at his temples. He’s wearing khaki pants and a navy jacket that’s similar to our uniform, a white button-down shirt with a hunter green tie.

He could almost—not quite but almost—pass as a student with what he’s wearing.

“I care about my grades,” I tell him.

“I know.” His voice is grave and he nods, somber as a priest in church. “I admire that about you. There are many qualities of yours that I admire.”

“Thank you.”

“But there is one thing I’ve heard recently that has me concerned.” He tugs at his tie, straightening it. “What is your relationship with Rhett Bennett?”

Alarm races through me, leaving me shaky. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question, Miss Lancaster.” His tone is faintly condescending. “Are you spending any extra time with Rhett Bennett?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business?” The words leave me without thought and I brace myself, waiting for him to call me out for questioning his authority.

“If you’re a student of mine, it’s my business.” His smile doesn’t falter though I see a flicker of irritation in his dark brown gaze. “Answer the question.”

I bristle at the demand in his tone. “We’re friends.”

“That’s it?”

“We have a couple of classes together.”

“I know.” The smile finally fades. “I’m concerned.”

“About what?” Oh, my tone is snotty. I never speak like this toward a superior. I definitely shouldn’t talk back or ague with him, but it’s like I can’t help it. I’ve never had a teacher or counselor or the freaking headmaster ask me about my supposed friends before.

Like how is this any of his business? What does he care if Rhett and I spend time together?

“Rhett Bennett is one of the best high school quarterbacks in the nation. We’re expected to win a state championship this season. Maybe even a national one,” Westscott stresses. “He needs zero distractions in his life.”

“What does that have to do with me? Like I said, we’re—friends. I don’t think I’m much of a distraction.”

“According to a variety of students that I spoke with over the last week, you were seen in a rather—compromising position with Mr. Bennett at a party.” Westscott leans back in his chair, the hinges creaking with the movement. He says nothing more, seemingly waiting me out for a response.

“Compromising position?” I choke out.

He nods, his clasped hands now resting on his chest. “You were sitting on his lap.”

“I don’t see how that’s—”

“And you were kissing. In front of everyone,” he continues.

“We’ve never kissed,” I say vehemently, because it’s the truth.

“I’ve heard multiple accounts—”

“Your multiple accounts are lying.” I’m breathing hard and I press my lips together, trying to contain my shock. My anger. “I don’t see how any of this would be a problem.”

“You want me to be real with you right now?” His brows lift and I nod mutely, afraid of what he might say. This conversation is surreal. “Rhett is a superior football player and he’s also extremely smart. His parents requested that I watch over him when he first started here, and I promised I would do so. Yes, Rhett dates girls. I understand why they’re drawn to him. He’s charismatic. But we didn’t worry about any of them.”

Am I supposed to be offended or honored by that last remark?

“You? I worry about.” He leans forward, the chair squeaking again, making me wince. “You’re beautiful. Smart. A Lancaster.”

I don’t like that he’s calling me beautiful. It’s creepy.

“What boy wouldn’t want to be with you?” he adds.

None of them do, I want to tell him. And now he’s trying to convince me I shouldn’t spend time with the only boy who seems interested in me.

“Do what’s best for the school, Willow.” His smile is small. “Find someone else’s lap to sit on.”

I blink at him, shocked he would say such a thing to me. “You do realize who you’re speaking to.”

His smile fades. “If you’re trying to pull a ‘do you know who I am’ type of moment, I’m not going to let it happen, Miss Lancaster. You are a student here, just like everyone else.”

“Are you saying Rhett Bennett gets special treatment but no one else does?” I arch a brow.

“There’s a reason he receives, as you call it, special treatment. His performance on the field is changing Lancaster Prep’s entire image. He’s going to leave a legacy on this campus that is unmatched. Can you do the same?”

I leap to my feet. “Your questions are insulting.”

“Only because you don’t like the answer you might give.” He also stands, resting his hands palm down on top of his desk. “Leave Rhett Bennett alone.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can make your life miserable if you continue down this path. How does that sound?” He sounds so calm and collected while threatening me.

What a monster.

“I’ll tell my parents—”

Westscott’s laughter interrupts me and I glare at him, curling my hands into fists. Everyone raves about the new headmaster and how he’s changed the school, but all I’m seeing is a deranged nut job who’s trying to control every little move on this campus.

“Go ahead and run home to Mommy and Daddy,” he taunts. “Tell them how awful I am and how I’ve mistreated you. They understand the importance of Rhett Bennett’s season for this school. After years of dwindling numbers, enrollment is up. Money is being poured into the school from the alumni association, most of it for a new football stadium. The stadium that Bennett built, we all call it. Such a shame he won’t benefit from it though.”

I don’t say anything. I can feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I know if I start speaking, I’ll end up crying, only because I’m mad. So mad. And I refuse to cry in front of this man.

“Your parents—the entire Lancaster family—all they care about is the bottom line, and right now I’m delivering that. Your brother is benefiting from this as well. Rowan is an excellent football player. He’ll go far if he continues down this path. Do you really want to mess everything up for your brother? Don’t you have another brother that’s going to attend Lancaster Prep eventually? I’m sure he looks up to his big brother and wants to do the same thing as him.”

I don’t bother telling him that Beau is in youth league football right now, because that would feed right into what Westscott is saying.

“If you want to go ahead and be selfish, then talk to your parents. Tell them everything. I’m a terrible man because I only want what’s best for the school. I’m sure they’ll agree with you that I’m a tyrant.” A door slams from outside the office and Westscott glances toward his closed office door. “You should go. Classes will start soon.”

Without another word, I turn on my heel and head for the door, just about to open it when he slams his hand on the door, just above my head. I glance to my right, staring at him mutely, hating that he’s so close.

He makes my skin crawl.

“If you’re as smart as everyone says you are, you’ll heed my advice,” he murmurs.

“And if I don’t?”

His smile is grim. “Then there will be hell to pay.”