“Maybe he did. But that doesn’t mean it was him who sent them to Lexie.”
I press my lips together.
“James would never do a thing like that,” Wren insists.
“What makes you so certain?” I ask.
“Because I know how James feels about you. He’d never do anything to hurt you.”
He says it with such certainty that my thoughts and feelings are stirred right up again. Would it change things if James didn’t send the photos? But why did he even take them?
“I’m on my way to his place now,” says Wren. “I want to know what the fuck is going on too. Come with me, Ruby. Then you can find out for certain.”
I stare at Wren. I’m about to ask him if he’s out of his mind. But I bite the words back.
Today has been the worst possible. It can’t get any worse. I have nothing left to lose.
I ignore the alarm bells that start ringing in my head. Without another thought, I walk over to Wren’s rusty car and get in.
2
Lydia
The news that Graham’s been suspended spread around Maxton Hall like wildfire. It was unbearable to stand outside school, waiting for Percy to finally arrive and pick me up, especially as I couldn’t get hold of either James or Ruby, and definitely not Graham.
When I finally get home, I go straight up to my room and try yet again to get through to him. This time, he picks up and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Graham?”
“Yes.” His voice is flat.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt as I pace up and down my room. My entire body is flooded with adrenaline, and my heart is pounding rapidly and heavily against my rib cage. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.”
I hear Graham take a sharp breath in. “It’s not your fault, Lydia.”
But it is though. It’s my fault that Graham and Ruby have been kicked out. “I’m going to go to see Mr. Lexington thisafternoon and I’ll explain everything. It’s all going to be OK, trust me. I’ll take all the blame and—”
“Lydia,” he interrupts me gently.
“Ruby was suspended too. And she totally doesn’t deserve that. I can’t let her be punished for something she didn’t even do.”
“Lydia, I—” Before he can finish his sentence, the phone is ripped out of my hand. I give a little squeal of shock and whirl around.
Dad is facing me, looking at me with cold eyes. He looks down at the lit-up screen, then lifts a finger and breaks off the call.
“Hey! What the—”
“You are never to speak to that teacher again,” my father cuts me off, his voice like ice. “Do you understand me?”
I open my mouth, but the chill in Dad’s voice and the angry look in his eyes prevent me from saying a single word.
He knows.
Dad knows about Graham and me.
Oh, God.
“Dad…” I whisper in desperation.
