Lunch hour caught me on my knees in the bathroom.

I made sure to put a lot of paper towels between the floor and my knees, so that I could keep things more sanitary. I certainly did not to get sticky and catch who knew what illnesses. I strained forward, gasping at how surprisingly difficult the position was. Even though I was doing him a great service, my knees hurt and I wasn't sure this was justified. After all, I could get in trouble if someone saw. I stuck my tongue out and strained even harder as I moved my hand back and forth until it was done.

There. His phone was completely scratched out from the wall. Hopefully this contained whatever damage he could've got from what was undoubtedly a spurned lover. No one would know I did this for Sawyer Logan, but in my head just the image of him finding out and thanking me in his insufferable way messed me up. I wouldn't say I hated him exactly, but I hated pretty much everything he stood for, and that was close enough. I was doing this because I saw it, I knew it was wrong and I couldn't ignore it. Not for him.

A static sound came from the school's speakers, followed by Mr. Jones' voice, "Can Aurora Martinez please report to my office? Thank you."

I gasped, afraid that there was some camera in here that caught me in the act of scribbling on the wall. I tried to stand up and forgot that the sink was directly over my head.

The blow sent me sprawling on my butt on the dirty floor as suddenly the aurora borealis danced around me. I giggled, because that was my name and even though it looked pretty the pain started to seep into my nerves with a vengeance. It took me three tries to stand up and I groaned when I saw myself in the mirror. A red bump had already appeared in the middle of my forehead. And I was just called to the Principal's office. I looked around and confirmed that of course there were no cameras in the girls' bathroom. Other than that, I had no idea what this was about.

I threw away the paper towels that protected my knees from the cooties on the floor, even though I was going to have to burn my jeans later because of the fall. I made my way through the hallways and got a couple of glances from people I knew. One asked what Mr. Jones' deal was and I told him that his guess was as good as mine. The whole time his eyes stayed on my throbbing forehead.

My face was already smarting in embarrassment when I made it to Mr. Jones' office and I was let inside. The tomato effect worsened when I was faced with not just the Principal, but Mr. Davies as well. And they looked upset, somehow.

"Hello, Mr. Jones," I said tentatively.

He motioned with his hand to the free chair next to Mr. Davies. "Hi, Miss Martinez. Please take a seat."

I did and looked from one to the other. I waited until one of them spoke, even though I was dying to ask if I'd done something wrong. Aside from adding onto the graffiti in the bathroom.

Mr. Jones wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Can you please tell us in detail what happened in the bathroom earlier?"

My spine straightened. My mouth opened and closed.

How did they freaking catch me?

"With Mr. Banks and Mr. Logan," he added once it became apparent that I was stumped for words.

I deflated as quickly as a balloon that was just pinched with a needle. "Oh."

Now that I knew this wasn't anything bad for me, I got more comfortable in the chair and thought back to what happened. I told them that I'd requested a hall pass and went to the girl's restroom, then as I walked by I heard the commotion.

"But did you see it?" Mr. Jones asked as he leaned forward.

"I, uh," I scratched my head but that sent a new flare of pain, so I stopped it. "Kind of. I knocked on the door and asked if everything was okay, and someone said to go away, so I didn't."

Mr. Davies' amused smile did not go unnoticed.

"What happened after that?" the Principal asked, his eyes also glinting in a way that said he was thinking of exactly the same thing. That I was one heck of a stubborn person. The sky was blue and the grass was green.

I shrugged. "I opened the door and saw them both all worse for wear. It was clear they'd been fighting." Then I stopped and looked at both of them pointedly. "Didn't you interview both of them?"

Mr. Davies was the one who sighed and responded, "We did, but they're tight lipped. We were hoping you could help us shed some light on whatever caused this riff. Otherwise how can we fix it?"

I pursed my lips. They couldn't fix it even if they tried. The cause of the fight was Lexie Cooper, or to be more accurate, the fact that she broke up with Taylor last summer, cold turkey, and rounded all the figurative baseball bases with Sawyer at a party. And even though Sawyer didn't seem like he wanted more of Lexie, she definitely did, considering that she was there like his shadow everywhere he went nowadays.

She'd even shown up at the car shop once. That had been awkward.

But not any more awkward than if I had to tell these two men this story.

I summarized it. "I know they've had friction because of a girl they're both interested in, but if that's what caused this episode I couldn't tell. I ran to get Mr. Davies pretty quick as soon as I saw their state."

Correction, I said in my head, I ran as soon as Sawyer got Taylor off of me.

Given their solemn faces I said, "Am I in trouble?"

"What? Of course not," Mr. Jones said. He sighed and leaned back. "We've very thankful that you helped us prevent this from reaching bigger proportions, which is why we were hoping you could help us."

I sat up straighter. "How can I be of service?"

"Well," the way Mr. Davies dragged the word on told me everything I needed to know. My eyes widened at his sheepish grin. "It's really more imperative now that we help Sawyer through the school year."

"No," I whispered, too low for any of them to hear. But the intent must have been obvious, because Mr. Jones spoke the key words.

"I'll speak very frankly with you, Miss Martinez. You've been an excellent student these years. Just as you get measured by your grades, the school is measured by the rate at which its students graduate." He paused and pursed his lips. "At this rate, Mr. Logan is not on track for graduation, and this will put a negative mark on our institution. This affects our standing in the community, and unfortunately will not be the kind of reputation we want to follow our students to their next level."

I blinked. In other words, the school's bad reputation was my bad reputation too. And this was why they wanted me to help get Sawyer Logan on stage on graduation, receiving a high school diploma from Mr. Jones.

"We're not trying to be unfair by twisting your arm," Mr. Davies said, even though that was exactly how it was coming across to me. "It's just that we've tried everything from our side. We've even forced him to attend regular counseling meetings with me, and he blows through them. None of us in the teaching staff have been able to reach through to him."

Impulsively I asked, "Why don't you expel him?"

They both startled, as if this notion hadn't even occurred to them. I'd been about to give myself a pat in the back when Mr. Jones' disappointed face hit me even harder than the sink had, earlier.

"We don't make it a habit to give up on any of our kids, Miss Martinez."

I sank into my chair, and I was sure my tomato face was back.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I guess it's a valid question," Mr. Davies said, trying to be diplomatic but I could see I'd disappointed him too. It was in the way his eyebrows creased and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "But we really believe Sawyer is a good kid, deep down. We just need somebody to reach down and bring that good kid to the surface."

"And you think I can do this?" I asked them, raising my eyebrows. Hadn't I just proved I didn't have an iota of the empathy necessary for the task?

"We think a peer stands a better chance," Mr. Davies said. Again, with all the diplomacy of a politician. He was totally in the wrong career.

"And we know that you have an interest to bolster your college applications," Mr. Jones added. "I'd look upon you very favorable if you can help us with this task."

Crap, crappity crap. They got me. And they knew it.

I tried one more recourse. "Um, but couldn't I help Taylor Banks instead? Lately he doesn't seem to be as focused on school, what with all the drama."

Mr. Jones waved his hand. "Coach O'Hare has agreed to take care of Mr. Banks."

I pursed my lips and stared off into the distance, to the wall behind the Principal. They were hoping to apply the principle of scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, and in a way it was exactly what I'd asked Mr. Davies. Except that I hadn't liked his idea back then and I also didn't like it now. I didn't trust Sawyer as far as I could throw him and he had the touch of the stomach. Everything he touched turned to crap. What guaranteed that he wouldn't touch me and turn me into a turd? This was why I didn't hang out with him, ever. Not when our fathers used to bring us to the car shop while they worked, and Sawyer and I sat alone, separate and bored. Not now that he was an apprentice and hung out with Manny, who had been my friend first, and who desperately wanted to turn the three of us into a thing—but even better if that included Toni. And I definitely didn't hang out with him at school, where I was the best student in our year while he'd been caught smoking under the bleachers once, or half clothed with a girl in an empty lab room another time, or asleep in class, or in more fights in his entire student career than I could remember to count. Or holding the top record for the most detentions, without apparently knowing that they wouldn't kick him out no matter what he did.

And then I saw the plate that Mr. Jones had about last year's baseball golden team, the one they'd made themselves so that they could include Peyton O'Hare's name. That gave me my answer.

I let out the longest sigh in history and said, "Fine. How do we do this?"

our poor petty queen is like

it's gonna be fun, Rory. trust me 😌