The Principal's Office by Jasmine Haynes Page B

work.
    Rachel recognized, however, that while Nathan blamed Principal Torvik, his own behavior was the problem. He’d started mouthing off in class, yet another negative effect of the divorce.
    “He took my phone away.” Nathan threw himself in a chair, making the spindly legs creak.
    “What?” She couldn’t afford another phone. “What do you mean he
took
it? Didn’t he give it back?” Okay, there was discipline, then there was personal property.
    “Yeah. But only at the end of the day. And I had to go into his office and listen to another of his stupid lectures.”
    She calmed down. He’d gotten the phone back. “About what?”
    “Not using my cell phone in class.” He rolled his eyes just like Justin did, or maybe Justin did it like Nathan. Then he deepened his voice in imitation of the beleaguered Principal Torvik. “It’s disruptive and impolite. Blah, blah, blah.”
    There was a strict rule at the school that there was no talkingor texting on cell phones during class. Rachel agreed with it. She also didn’t like the way Nathan was making fun of an authority figure. She was at a loss as to what to do about his increasingly poor attitude, toward her and toward school. “Principal Torvik is right. You know you’re not supposed to use your cell phone.”
    “I wasn’t
using
it. I only took a picture to prove that Jonesy was sleeping at his desk.”
    “That’s semantics, Nathan. Whether it’s talking, texting, or taking a photo, it’s
using
it.”
    “I don’t
have
texting,” he snarled.
    She closed her eyes. She no longer knew how to have a reasonable discussion with him. If she agreed or said nothing, it was teaching him that bad behavior was acceptable. If she sided with the principal, she was the bad guy. Well, sometimes moms just had to be bad guys.
    “The solution is not to use your cell phone in class.”
    “Geez, Mom, thanks for the advice.” He stood up, skidding the chair across the linoleum, and dragged his backpack over the table as he stomped away.
    “Please do your homework,” she called to his back as he disappeared down the hall. Of course, he didn’t answer. She blew out a breath. If she could just figure out what she was doing wrong and fix it. For now, the most effective thing she could come up with was to increase her income so they didn’t have these constant money battles. She’d filled out the necessary forms to register for the city college online. The little window had come up, flashing a notice that it would take a few days to process her registration.
    When she’d signed the divorce settlement that gave Gary responsibility for paying the full mortgage and property tax bill as long as she paid half the childcare expenses, she’d thought it was a great deal. She hadn’t realized she’d need veto power over those expenses so that they weren’t constantly fighting about it.
    Whatever. She pulled out the frying pan. For some reason, it made her think of Rand. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Oh, she wanted the fire. She was so ready for the fire. Sunday night. As soon as she dropped the boys off at Gary’s.
    It was the first time, she realized, that she was completely ready to get rid of the boys for a week.

8
    DURING LUNCHTIME ON FRIDAY, RACHEL HAD LEFT RAND A MESSAGE . “I’m dropping the kids off at seven Sunday night.”
    It was pretty damn hot when just the sound of a woman’s voice on a message made him hard. Rand had started making plans, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to call her back until he’d finished his evening hour at the gym. By that time, she didn’t answer.
    “Come straight to my house after you drop them off,” he said over voicemail. That was all. He hadn’t told her what to wear, or reminded her to bring her vibrator. He said nothing about what he was going to do to her. But he planned. Big-time. All weekend until it was almost Sunday’s appointed hour.
    It wasn’t a stretch to imagine, having been married to the same man