Sometimes, you wonder how feeble a friendship could be. Maeve was experiencing first-hand the deep hurt caused by the betrayal of her close friend, much less ally.
The hum of the conversation and occasional bell ring filled the air. Maeve struggled to focus on her combination lock, her mind was in turmoil. The first half of school had already passed by like a blur. She barely remembered what they had done that day.
Isabella chatted beside her with some other girls, oblivious to her distress. Maeve's fingers fumbled repeatedly as she dialled her combination. The flood of relief when it finally opened. She exchanged her notes. Maeve's gaze lingered on a picture of her and Oliver, taken at last year's school dance. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, their smiles genuine. The feeling once again stabbed her chest.
It wasn't a big deal. He reported her and so what? She only made the mistake of trusting him.
As Maeve slammed her locker shut, the sound reverberated down the hallway. She had used an overly exerted force she didn't mean to use. Their chatters came to an abrupt stop. Isabella was the first to speak, her voice cautious and weary of her sudden outburst. "Maeve, are you feeling well?" She asked softly. The others stared curiously.
"As you can see, I'm fine. Worry about yourself," she said harshly.
Glancing sideways, Maeve spotted Oliver down the hallway. He was standing next to his locker. His boyish grin glared in full display. It was hard for any girl who passed to stop staring at his striking face.
Oliver's gaze lifted as if sensing her stare, another girl happened to stand beside him. Her body swayed back and forth as she giggled at his words. It was the scholarship girl, Kate. With her long straight black hair that cascaded down her back. Her carefree laughter grated on Maeve. How she gently tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing a small dimple on the side of her cheek.
Oliver's expression softened, as if seeking reconciliation. Kate playfully tugged at his shirt, a bit shyly, and his attention returned to hers. He was focused on Kate once again. Together, they disappeared down the hall immersed in whatever they spoke of.
Maeve turned to her friends, meeting their knowing stares. They witnessed the exchange. The scent of freshly cleaned floors and cafeteria food wafted through the air, but Maeve's stomach remained knotted. Maeve clutched her bag, her fingers tightening around the straps. She strode past Isabella and the other girls', they followed silently. Not mentioning a word about what they had witnessed.
"Let's grab lunch!" Isabella said. Her voice pierced the tension. Maeve matched her energy sending a dashing smile her way.
Maeve pulled out her phone while they were distracted. She dialed a familiar number. Mark Thompson. Mark's deep voice answered.
"Hello," he said.
"I need to see you," Maeve urged, her voice husky. She could hear the small groan from him at the other line. The tone that she had used was something she knew got him excited.
"Not today, I'm busy right now. Maybe another day," he said.
Maeve hung up, "I'm going to the library" she announced to Isabella and the rest of the clique with her. She didn't wait for any response before she got up and left. Maeve entered Mark Thompson's office, her heels clicking on the polished floor. Some students stared, whispering among themselves.
Inside his office, Thompson looked up from papers, surprise etched on his face. "Maeve, what are you-"
"I need a consultation, Mr. Thompson." Maeve interrupted, her voice commanding. She had grabbed his collar pulling it forward so their eyes could meet closely.
Mark Thompson's eyes darted towards the open door. "Maeve! what are you doing here? This isn't a good time."
She sauntered closer, her hips swaying. "I need it now," Mark Thompson hastily rose, glancing around the hallway before ushering Maeve out. "Follow me."
They entered the music room, the door creaking shut behind them. Maeve's fingers intertwined with Mark Thompson's collar, pulling him close. Her lips crashed against his, her kiss deep and demanding. He stumbled back, shocked.
"Maeve, what's gotten into you?" Mark Thompson asked, pushing her away.
Her eyes rolled at his behaviour. "Why pretend, Mr. Thompson," Maeve countered, her voice laced with seduction. "I know you like it when I'm this aggressive."
For a moment, Mark Thompson's resolve crumbled. He missed her body, her fiery spirit. Just the mere thought of her taste expelled a burning passion he had almost forgotten about. He had to admit she was acting strange but who was he to refuse the offer? His hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. Their lips met again, passion reigniting.
Maeve leaned against the music room door, her chest heaving. "Maeve, we can't go on any longer."
She smirked. "I'm sure your work can wait a few more minutes." she reached out to him but he stepped away. Maeve's eye furrowed.
"I meant we can't do this anymore. The way you walked in, what if someone had been there? It could have been a scandal." He sighed. "I could lose my job. This is wrong and we should just stop." The risk was too great for him.
"Wrong?" Maeve repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're the one who pursued me. Don't pretend otherwise."
Mark Thompson's eyes darted towards the door, ensuring they were still alone. "Maeve, listen-"
"No, Mark. you listen." Maeve's voice hardened. "You preyed on me. A vulnerable student. You're a predator, disguising yourself as a teacher. You don't get to end this because you feel some sort of guilt."
Mark Thompson's face paled. " Maeve, stop."
Maeve's laughter echoed through the room, bitter and cold. "You're worried about being exposed? You should be. You're a hypocrite, Mark. Just like all other men out there. Y'all are fuc*ing bastards."
Mark Thompson's shoulders sagged, his voice barely above a whisper. "I made a mistake. Involving myself with...a student." Maeve smile twisted. "A kid. You mean a kid. Don't sugarcoat it, Mark." with that she left with her bag tossed on an empty desk.
The school hallway bustled with students. They separately exited the music room, maintaining the illusion of innocence. Maeve merged with the crowd, her thoughts swirling. The betrayal ran deeper than ever after that.
Maeve bumped into Isabella who was surprised to see her. "Maeve, where were you?"
"Library," Maeve lied, dusting the ends of her skirt. Isabella's gaze narrowed. "You weren't in the library."
Maeve shrugged. "Must have missed me."