Page 120 of Just a Little White Lie

“It’s gonna be fine.”

“As soon as I tell her, she’s gonna want him out.”

“And you’re going to make it abundantly clear why he shouldn’t be.”

I nod, willing this man’s confidence to manifest onto me.

The door pops open, and I flinch. Helen’s austere expression does nothing to encourage me. She stands in the doorway, her power suit perfectly pressed and not a hair on her straight bob out of place.

The authority exuding from her makes me want to crawl under my chair.

“Afternoon, Helen.” Sully’s voice is cheerful as he stands up to shake her hand. “Hope you don’t mind me sitting in.”

Her eyes narrow, Sully’s presence alerting her to the severity of this meeting. That keen gaze of hers lands on me, and I’m barely able to step forward on my shaky legs.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

“Come in.” She walks around behind her desk and takes a seat in her plush chair.

Sully follows me into the room and has a brief chat with Helen, who obviously is not in the mood for pleasantries.

She indicates for us to take a seat, and I park it on the shiny black leather chair in front of her desk.

“So, Lauren, you look as though you’ve had an interesting day.”

She points to my eyes, and I gently brush my face, wondering how much of the makeup has worn off. Dang it. I should have made a pit stop at the bathroom on the way here.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I let it out and try to sound confident. “That’s actually what I want to talk to you about.”

“I heard there was a ruckus in the dance studio yesterday, but Ms. Howlett assured me you’d simply had a fall. I wanted to meet with you to see how you were doing, but now that Sully’s here too, I know this must be about one particular member of your dance crew. My first guess would be Maverick Koa. Am I right?”

I share a quick glance with Sully and nod.

“Did he assault you?” She clicks her pen, obviously ready to start scribbling notes.

“No. He did not.” I swallow, my mind rebelling against the truth in my mouth. “However, he did get into a scuffle with Arlo, and when I tried to break the boys apart, I was injured in the process. Maverick’s elbow caught me in the eye, and I fell back and tripped over a school bag, landing on my hip. I’m not badly injured, and I want to make it clear that I in no way see this as a strike against Maverick.”

Helen’s brown eyes hit me, her penetrating glare feeling like a sword tip to my chest. “He was fighting. It’s a strike.”

“He was pushed and provoked.”

“And he didn’t control his temper. Yet again, that boy is unable to control himself.”

“He’ll learn.”

“Not fast enough for my liking. He’s off the team.”

“No.” I shake my head, my voice a lot stronger than I thought it could be. “A decision like that will do more harm than good. Maverick needs this opportunity.”

“He hasn’t earned it.”

“Yes he has!” My voice pitches. “Do you have any idea how many hours of practice has gone into this dance? Those students have worked themselves to the bone for this. You can’t snatch it away from him.”

“We have given him plenty of warnings. And from what I saw yesterday morning, they’re not as perfect as you think they are.”

I huff, a swift anger rising within me. “You try dancing in front of a bunch of students who tell you you’re a loser every day you’re at school. Those kids have been called trash, useless, worthless pieces of shit.”

“Watch your language.” She reprimands me as if the words are second nature, a habit formed after years of being in the education sector.

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