Page 23 of Wicked Scandal

I grit my teeth, holding back everything I want to say. This is such a Troy thing to do. He’d love nothing more than to paint the Cromwells as horrible people when he’s done so much worse. If the residents of Willow Creek knew what a monster he is, they’d never give him their votes.

“Are you sure this is how you want to win?” I ask, forgoing what I really want to say. “You said yourself, beating Grant will be all the more satisfying when you win. Don’t you prefer to win with votes?”

He quirks a brow. “Are you questioning my abilities? Because it sure as hell sounds like you are.”

I keep my head down, hoping if I can express my concern maybe he won't do this. “I’m just saying, I think you should?—”

His fist hits the table, enough to startle me but not quite enough to attract attention. Troy glances around when my panicked gaze meets his, and the second he realizes no one is looking at us, he grabs his knife and grips it tight.“Don’t pretend you know a damn thing about what it takes to win an election. You know nothing about what I do, Catherine, so keep your ignorant thoughts to yourself.”

I nod in response and continue to eat with my head down because if I look at him right now, I just might lose my fucking mind. His breathing is heavy, that knife held out almost like a threat. He wouldn’t do anything in front of witnesses. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself as I force another bite down my throat.

CHAPTER 7

CATHERINE

He’s gone.

Troy is gone for the next four nights.

I’m literally bursting at the seams with excitement. Even my students take notice. Brady Newton made a comment about how I look exceptionally happy this afternoon. A minute later, Julia Denver said I was glowing. I have to agree with both of them, not only am I happy and glowing, I want to dance and sing and shout.

This is how I want to feel every day. The simple freedom to make my own choices and have my independence back. Even if it’s brief, it makes me wish for more.

I step in front of the class, looking out at all my students. “If everyone could sit down, we’ll get started.”

They scramble to find their seats, and once they do, I make an announcement. “I’m feeling extra generous today, so instead of continuing with our lesson plan, I’m allowing quiet free time.”

Instant chatter begins, so I raise my hands then lower them. “I’m not finished.” Once they settle again, I continue. “I highly suggest you study as much as you can for the practice exam tomorrow. If you have homework from other classes to catch up on, you can do so for the next hour. Or, you can talk quietly amongst yourselves. If the class gets too out of hand, I’ll be happy to continue our discussion on literary criticism.”

Chitchat rings around the room again, but for the most part, they keep their voices to a minimum.

Taking a seat at my desk, I open my laptop and log into our online portal to check assignments that were submitted from an earlier class.

As I’m clicking through them, I lend an ear to some gossip from a trio of girls.

“I can’t believe you actually asked Wilder Cromwell to prom,” one of them says with a mixture of shock and admiration. “What did he say?”

I glance over my laptop, anxious to hear Sam’s response. Word around the school is, Wilder isn’t going with anyone to prom. He even made a video about flying solo with his friends.

“He said, maybe,” Sam tells them. “Which basically means yes.”

Instant jealousy strikes. I don’t know why, and I don’t like it, but it’s there. How is it that I’m happy for Wilder, but not at the same time? I can’t make sense of my own thoughts.

Good for him, though. Wilder deserves to live out these experiences. He’s already too mature for his age. It will do him some good to let his guard down and enjoy a night out with a date to prom.

But Sam, really? I would never speak my thoughts to a single soul, but he’s too good for her. Hell, he’s too good for any girl in this school. Sam has bragged about having sex with many guys on the football team; I even heard about her sleeping with a few of them at the same time. I’m not judging, I just think Wilder is too mature for her.

Sam’s friends gush over her response, squealing and hugging her. “Oh my God! You are officially the luckiest girl alive.”

I have to agree with her friends, though. Sam’s pretty lucky. Wilder is a great guy. So great that I find myself envious of this eighteen-year-old girl. It’s ridiculous. Of course, he would go to prom with someone his age.

It shouldn’t bother me like this. I shouldn’t care. And when I see them slow dancing together at prom, it won’t bother me one bit because these are monumental moments in their lives that each one of them should experience.

It’s an event I’ll be experiencing as well since I signed up to be a chaperone. I haven't even mentioned it to Troy yet, but one of our deals was that he will not interfere with my job. Even though he doesn't hold true to his word nine out of ten times.

“This is crazy!” Sam’s best friend, Abby, exclaims. “Did you see the video he posted today? Do you think…”

“No fricken way,” Sam says. “It couldn’t be about me.”

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