Free Fate Book by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

tensed. But there was no doubt in my mind he was toying with me, trying to rattle my cage. But why? What had I done?
    I tilted my head to the side. “You should have that itch looked at. Maybe you caught something.”
    He laughed into the air.
    I took advantage and scurried away like a little rodent fleeing from the light. “I can get to class on my own.”
    He jerked his head. “Don’t be late, babe. I’ll see you at lunch.”
    I flashed several glances over my shoulder until I rounded the corner and he was out of sight.
    What had brought about this sudden change in him? Because this felt like more than a simple mind game used to keep me in check. The tension he radiated felt intense, real. It was as if he knew my mind had been in the gutter all night, and he was all too happy to join me. But my dreams were just that. Dreams. I couldn’t control them, and I certainly wasn’t about to give into them. No way.
    Then it suddenly dawned on me. I was free. He couldn’t keep an eye on me here. To hell with what I’d promised. I had to tell someone what was happening, even if they thought I was crazy. But would they? No. Not possible . I would go to the principal’s office, and have her call the police. No one was above the law, and this entire thing had gotten out of hand. I was dangerously close to accepting the situation, believing it, and wanting things I had no business wanting.
    Stockholm syndrome.
    But what about his warning that someone would get hurt? Or his threat about telling my mom? Okay. I didn’t believe he would hurt me. And I didn’t believe there was some ominous force coming after me. That was ridiculous, likely a ploy to keep me quiet. But the part about my mom? If Santiago told her about my dad cheating, it would tear her to pieces.
    Shit. I thought about it for a moment, and realized that the real reason I didn’t want Santiago to tell her wasn’t because I feared her learning the truth, it was because I’d never said a word. I felt like I was the one who’d betrayed her, not my father.
    So there it was. My answer. My father needed to fix this. He needed to help me. He needed to tell my mother the truth. That would free me from Santiago and my guilt. It would restore a tiny piece of my respect for him.
    I’d left several messages for my father over the weekend, but he hadn’t called back. Why? And he’d completely flaked on our FaceTime date.
    Time to try him again.
    I started digging into my purse for my phone. Damn it. I’d left it charging on my desk. I quickly thought about hunting down Mandy, but her phone didn’t have international access. I could, however, use the phone in the office—tell them it was a family emergency.
    As I turned the corner, down the crowded corridor toward the administrative building, the sane thoughts in my head evaporated. Every student stopped or moved to let me pass. They shamelessly whispered and gawked in my general direction, parting like the Red Sea as I passed.
    I ran my hand over the top of my head. Did I look horrible? The bruise was pretty bad.
    But then the students began to applaud and cheer, “Fuck yeah!” and “Ding dong the witch is dead!” They roared like a crowd at a football game. I suddenly realized I was in front of my homeroom and ducked inside, out of sight.
    The strange behavior, unfortunately, didn’t stop there. Steve, the captain of the football team, immediately held out his palm. “Dakota! Put ’er there, woman.”
    In shock, I stretched out my hand, and he slapped it so hard that my skin stung from the impact. As everyone poured in, they saluted, patted, and hugged me until the bell rang. Everyone except Dax, who watched from his seat in the corner, his expression somewhat pensive, as if he were staring at a zoo creature. When the teacher entered, it wasn’t Mr. M but a substitute who immediately made threats of detention if people didn’t calm down.
    I sank into my chair toward the back, fighting the urge to vomit. Had