Gettin' Hooked (7 page)

He shook me lightly. “Are you?”

“No.” I'd meant to ask why he wanted to know, but “no” was all that came out.

“Why you kissing him then?”

“He kissed me.” I was freakin' insane. Why was I justifying my kiss with Darian to him? I'm sure he'd done his thang last night with Brie.

“You just let any dude kiss you, then?”

I pulled my shoulder away, forcing his hand to drop from my arm. Um…no, I didn't get down like that. If he was tryin' to say I was ready to give it up on the easy, I'd straight do him like Michelle did Leza.

Stepping back, I planted my fist on my tilted hip, daring him to say it. My heart was pumping all crazy-like, my stomach trembling. “Fa shizzle, baby boy,” I said, making my words drip with sarcasm. “A dude wants to kiss, I let him.”

We stood in the roar of the rain, in the heat of anger, in the build of something intense and arousing. The moment lingered, the tension splintering down my spine. His dark gaze was on my face, an eyebrow arched into an odd angle. And then he let out a slow breath, and just like that, the something faded.

His shoulders relaxed. A dimple threatened faintly in a single cheek, like he was fighting a smile. “No you don't,” he whispered, stepping forward.

He touched my cheek with his fingertips, then his palm settled fully against my skin as he swooped in and kissed me full on the mouth. Nothing tentative, nothing unsure.

Holding me in place with one hand, he stepped even closer, close enough that I could feel his heat and strength. His lush lips opened, his tongue touching mine. He made a slight sound, like maybe something was hurting. There was something in the sound that made me want to soothe him. Made me want to step closer, so close there was no space left between us.

With my eyes closed, my head light from hardly breathing, I slanted my face and let him kiss me. Really kiss me. Until I didn't think I could stand. All that anger raged into other feelings, emotions I wasn't ready to name.

Then the kiss lightened and slowed, his lips toying with mine, teasing and sucking before he lifted his head, the smile glittering in his eyes.

His mouth was damp now, from our kiss and what had remained of my lip gloss, and I had to fight the desire to reach up and wipe the moisture away. Fight the urge to start laughing.

“No you don't,” he repeated. “Not any more.”

I shook my head; all that garbage I'd said about not giving a shit what Maurice thought was a frickin' lie. I liked the boy, and after that kiss there was no more denying it. But so what. If he thought he could boss me around, tell me I couldn't kiss other fellas while he did what he pleased, banged whatever chick was available, well then he had another thang coming.

I pushed him hard in the chest, catching him off guard. He stumbled back a few steps. “You don't own me, Maurice. I'll kiss whoever I please.” And it didn't matter that he was the only one I wanted touchin' me. He wouldn't know that.

“And you want to be kissing Darian?”

I shrugged, then added a smirk.

“Hold up, Imani, you tellin' me he kissed you like that? He made you feel that? He ain't got it like me, and you know it.”

I huffed, jamming my hands on my hips again. I shoulda known; this wasn't 'bout me, but his pride. “What I do know, Maurice, is I'm not your girl. And you are not my daddy. You don't set my rules.”

“That's not—”

“Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.” I shoved him again, turning away. He tried to grab my sweatshirt again, but I sidestepped. “You actin' like you want somethin' that's not being offered ta ya. Go find Brie.”

And when I felt the burn of tears gather behind my eyes, I started running and prayed he wouldn't come after me.

“Imani
Lane, to the administration office.”

Snap, the bell had just rung and I hadn't even taken my seat in my first-period class when the intercom beeped, then called me up. Amidst the laughter, hoots and
oooohhhsss
from my classmates, I gathered my stuff into my pack and flung it over my shoulder, then aimed for my teacher's desk.

“You gettin' suspended?” some dude called across the room.

“Ooohh, Imani's in trouuuuuble,” others teased. “Whatcha do, girl?”

There was no guessing why I was being called to the office. I knew exactly why. And though I hadn't been fighting, my eye told a different story. Dark purple beneath my eye and a swollen upper lid stood as evidence that I'd taken the brunt of Michelle's runaway punch.

I shrugged at the class, trying to look all casual, like being called to the office really didn't bother me. They all knew why I was being called up, too. Shoot, word like this travels fast around the folkies at Howard.

My cell had been blowin' up since Saturday evening and my e-mail box had been crammed full with all these fools wantin' the inside info on what had gone down outside of Starbucks.

My classmates kept laughing until Ms. Sanders told everyone to sit down and get out their journals, then she scribbled her initials onto a hall pass and handed it to me.

As I walked down the hall headed for the admin office, I wondered how much I was supposed to tell Mr. Alton, Howard's principal, about the fight, but I was no narc. I'd try to keep Michelle out of trouble as much as possible, because fa sheezy, the fight didn't take place on school property or during a school event, so I wasn't feelin' why it'd be their business.

A fight off campus was for our parents to deal with. Leza may have been folded, but that didn't have junk to do with school. And, I hadn't even been in it, though deep down I couldn't help this whack feelin' that it was still my fault. My fault because of GettinHooked.com and the fact that Jonathan had used my find-a-prom-date site as a way to play his girl.

I let out a low, slow breath when I reached the office, sort of surprised that Michelle and Jonathan weren't there already. If the fight was being investigated shouldn't those two be questioned, too? Michelle at the very least since she'd been the one who'd put the whuppin' down.

“In here, Miss Lane,” Mr. Alton said, sticking his head out his office door right quick.

I followed him inside, and he shut the door behind me, then indicated I should take a seat. Once I'd sat down he moved around to his side of the desk and slumped in his plump leather chair.

“I'm presuming you know why you're here?”

As if on cue my puffy eye started to throb. Or maybe that was my head.

I nodded.
I knew.

Mr. Alton shook his head, then turned his attention to some papers and started furiously writing notes on a long yellow pad. My hands were hella sweating as I gripped the cold metal armrests, and my pulse raced as I sat in the hard narrow chair.

The bright overhead flourescent lights were making his beak nose shiny and all the half-healed shaving nicks stand out like crazy.

Biting nervously on my lip, I waited for him to speak, but he didn't. Not a single word, just kept on with his with his pen.

It's not like I needed him to tell me what this was all about, but it would have been hexxa nice to hurry up and get on with it. He might as well talk 'bout the fight. Everyone else was.

But he still didn't. After a little bit, I glanced at the clock and realized I'd been sitting there for nearly a half hour staring at his shiny, beaded-with-sweat forehead.

I cleared my throat, just wanting to get on with it, but he didn't react to my prompt. I felt like shit, a cold setting in after my rain-drenching run home. Though all my peeps had been diggin' me for the haps, I'd ignored the text messages and e-mails, deciding on Sunday to stay in bed and play sick for most of the entire day.

Scratch that, I wasn't playin' at it. Between my aching, stuffy head, swollen eye and stomach that had been touched with the twisting of nerves, sick was closer to the truth than a frickin' stretch.

The only reason I'd come to school this morning was because it was easier checkin' in here than trying to explain to Gram—with my busted-up eye—why I was staying home. Since she stays in her room so much, avoiding her Sunday hadn't been an issue, but had I remained in bed today, she'd have been in to see if I was doing okay.

And I wasn't ready to tell her I'd kissed two fiiine boys in one day, and walked away from them both. It was easier to come to school with my friends, to face Mr. Alton, than to lie in bed all day remembering the way Maurice felt. And the way he'd tasted.

Easier gettin' in trouble—if that's what this was—than lying around dwelling on his accusing words. Or the way both fellas had tried to put some sorta claim on me without either of them asking me to be their girl.

Aww, shit, this was crazy to be sitting here in the principal's replaying Saturday. Again. I was hella trippin' for letting those guys bother me at all. I didn't have time for stupid, and both of them had acted straight stupid. Especially Maurice.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and wiping my damp palms across my thighs, I glanced at the clock again as I blew out a frustrated breath. Another ten minutes and the first-period bell would ring and I'd have missed the entire class for nothing.

“Did you wanna talk to me, Mr. Alton?” I asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Actually, Imani, I've been waiting for you. I figured there was something you need to tell me.”

What-the-hell-evah! The dude was straight hella crazy if he thought I was going to volunteer to sprinkle. I shook my head, adding a quick shrug.

“No? Nothing?”

“Nope.”

He wrote something on his pad, then looked back at me. “I can think of a couple of things.”

“Like?”

“Like your eye. You want to tell me how that happened?”

“An accident.” That was no lie. Michelle's fist wasn't meant for me.

Mr. Alton glared at me for a sec. My heart pumped and I hoped he didn't notice the way my pulse roared along my neck. Or see how my hands shook just slightly.

“Hmmmph, an accident. I see.” He wrote some more, then clicked the mouse on his desk, making his computer screen come out of sleep mode. “What about this, then?” He turned his flat-panel screen my way, and fo' sho', the homepage of GettinHooked was pulled up.

“GettinHooked.com,” I mumbled, forcing another shrug and strugglin' to keep my voice all casual. Making a Web site wasn't punishable, so I had no idea why he was bringing it up, other than, of course, how Jonathan met Leza and why Michelle kicked Leza's ass.

“Your creation.”

“Yeah, so?” Attitude, too much attitude, I knew. I was tryin' to stay out of the mess, not jump into the hot water.

Knowing what I was going to see, I just glanced at it right quick, but my eye caught something just as he turned the screen back toward him.

My heart squeezed all tight, and I leaned forward, trying to get another glimpse at the screen as my lungs burned for a breath.

There was no way—no way possible—that I saw those numbers right. Yesterday we'd been at around six hundred. The member number showing on Mr. Alton's screen was more than two grand. There had to be some sort of mistake. No way was there more than two thousand student from Howard and Creekside registered for Gettin' Hooked.

“There's nothing wrong with creating a Web site, Imani. I'd like to think our staff has encouraged you to think outside the box in this manner.”

Leaning back in my chair, I folded my arms across my chest and bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. Figures Mr. Alton would try to take some kind of credit for the bomb I'd designed with Kayla.

The first-period bell rang, ending the class. Outside voices rose as students made their way to second period.

Lifting a brow, I curled my lip sarcastically and waited for him to go on.

“But I'm a little concerned about some of the things I've been hearing about this Web site. People are getting hooked up? What's that mean to you, Imani? Sex?”

My face flamed. I hadn't talked about sex with my daddy since he'd given me his version of the birds and the bees, and I sure as hell didn't want to have a talk anywhere near sex with Mr. Alton.

Were folks hooking up, hooking up because of my site? Yeah, I knew some of my friends had been having sex because of it. That didn't mean I was. Though maybe prom night. Maybe with the right guy. Maybe prom night with the right guy. If I found him.

I kept my lip square between my teeth, saying nothing to his comment about sex. When he realized I wasn't spilling, he continued.

“And there's been fights.”

And I'd known all along that's what this was all about.

“I don't know anything about either of those, Mr. Alton. My Web site is to help my girls find prom dates that aren't guys we've been hanging with since we were five.”

“That's it?”

“Yup.”

“And your black eye was an accident?”

“Yup.”

“I see.” He turned his pale brown gaze away from me and started scribbling on his paper again, the silence getting on my nerves.

“Can I go back to class now?” But what I really wanted to do was find a computer and find out what sort of hype my site had attracted and why the membership profiles was off the heezy.

He lifted his face from his crazed note taking. “Not today, Miss Lane.”

“What? I'm being suspended?”

The ass actually smirked at me and I had to grip the metal chair arm to keep from reachin' across his desk and straight-up smacking it off his face.

“No. Your father is picking you up.”

I spun around in my chair and looked at the door like he'd be there. He wasn't. A shiver of nervous excitement slithered across my skin. “My dad's coming?”

“Yes. You can wait for him in the lobby. I'm finished talking to you.”

Oh, he was through. Ha, he had no idea how whack this was. I didn't need to be explaining my site to him. He should deal with school shit, and that's it.

Getting to my feet, my knees trembled a little, but I ignored it and grabbed my backpack off the floor. As I headed toward the office door, I said, “Pixx,” and flashed him a peace sign.

When I reached the admin office lobby I plopped back down on a chair to wait for my dad, a little freaked about why he was coming and afraid it meant something bad. I didn't even know he'd landed, and thought he wouldn't be here until Wednesday.

Closing my eyes to ward off a rush of tired and frustrated tears, I leaned my head back, feeling worse every second. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I had to wonder if the chills I'd been having hadn't been annoyance, but really fever.

After a quick sec, I took a deep breath and pulled my cell out of my pocket, then thumbed in a message for Kayla, Pop n twn. 2K GH mem, to let her know I wouldn't be around later and that something was blowin' up with our site.

Just as I hit Send, my dad walked in and I went into his arms.