*TEMPTED*

Bad advice

*TEMPTED*

*Chapter 5:

*Friday morning. 7:45 AM. St. Marlow High.*

The bell hadn’t rung yet, but the halls were already loud. Lockers slammed, sneakers squeaked on tile, and rumors moved faster than the students.

Britt felt it the second she walked in.

Eyes. Whispers. The way people stopped talking when she passed.

She kept her head down, hoodie pulled up, backpack slung over one shoulder. She hadn’t slept well. The unknown number had texted her twice after midnight. _It’s not over._

She wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of seeing her c***k.

“Morning, trouble,” Amy said, falling into step beside her.

Britt glanced up. Amy looked too bright for 7:45 AM. Too happy. Too bouncy.

“What?” Britt said, narrowing her eyes.

Amy grinned like she’d won the lottery. “Guess what?”

Britt sighed. “Amy, it’s 7:45. I haven’t had caffeine. If you say ‘I won the lottery’ I’m walking away.”

“No, no, better!” Amy bounced on her heels. “Guess. Come on. You’re good at this.”

Britt rolled her eyes but played along because Amy looked like she’d burst if she didn’t say it. “You got an A on the bio quiz?”

Amy gasped, offended. “Please. I always get A’s on bio quizzes.”

“Then I don’t care,” Britt said, turning toward her locker.

“Okay, okay!” Amy grabbed her arm, lowering her voice even though there was no one close enough to hear. “Josh asked me out last night. Officially. Like, ‘be my girlfriend’ official. And we’re going to the party together tomorrow.”

Britt froze for half a second.

Then she smirked. “Took him long enough.”

Amy’s face lit up. “Right? I knew you’d get it! He’s been acting weird all week. Bringing me cookies, walking me to class, that cement pie thing was so stupid but kinda cute—”

Britt half-listened, nodding at the right moments. Her brain was already three steps ahead.

Party tomorrow night. Saturday.

Josh and Amy official now.

And Oliver would probably be there. Josh was dragging him.

“Yeah,” Britt said when Amy paused for breath. “I’ll be there.”

Amy’s face lit up. “Yes! It’s gonna be the night everyone remembers. Josh said Oliver’s coming too. For an hour max, but still. Progress.”

Britt smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

_An hour, huh?_ she thought. _We’ll see about that._

---

*Friday, 3rd Period. Biology.*

Mr. Tristan was in a mood.

He stood at the front of the room, marker in hand, writing equations on the board like he was angry at the whiteboard itself. His eyes kept flicking to Britt.

“Miss Harper,” he said suddenly. “Stay after class.”

Britt didn’t look up. “Yes, sir.”

Amy shot her a worried look. Britt shook her head slightly. _Don’t._

When the bell rang, the room emptied fast. Students knew better than to linger when Mr. Tristan was like this.

Britt stayed seated.

Mr. Tristan closed the door.

“You scored a D- on your last test,” he said, placing the paper on her desk.

Britt stared at it. She’d studied. She’d stayed up until 2 AM, highlighter in hand, making flashcards.

“That’s not possible,” she said quietly. “I studied.”

“You didn’t study enough,” Tristan said. He walked around the desk, stopping beside her. Too close. His hand came down on her shoulder, fingers rubbing small circles.

Britt’s stomach turned.

“There are some things that should be done in order to gain other important things,” he said quietly. “I can help you, Britt. If you let me.”

Britt’s jaw clenched.

She stood up abruptly, knocking his hand off.

“What are you doing, sir?” she asked, voice low, dangerous.

“I was only trying to advise you,” Tristan said, backing up with his hands raised. “But if you’re still going to be stubborn, I’ll have no choice but to keep failing you, Britt.”

Britt shuddered in disgust.

_This bald bastard is failing me because I didn’t spread my legs for him,_ she thought. _I’ll make you regret it, you bald, stinky, sweaty man._

She kept her face neutral. Outside, calm. Inside, fuming.

Britt scoffed, grabbed her bag, and left.

“Good day, sir,” she called before the door shut behind her.

---

*Friday, Lunch.*

Britt stabbed at her salad like it had personally insulted her.

Amy sat across from her, eating quietly, still in that post-confession glow. Two other girls from their friend group sat nearby, glancing back and forth between Britt and Amy like they were watching a tennis match.

Something was off. Everyone could feel it.

A girl named Jesse finally said what everyone was thinking.

“Britt? What’s wrong with you?”

Britt didn’t look up.

“Nothing, Jesse,” she said. “I’m perfectly fine.”

She wasn’t.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it.

Another buzz.

She pulled it out under the table.

*Unknown Number:*

_You went to the police, didn’t you?_

Britt’s hand tightened around the phone.

She typed back: _Who is this?_

The reply came instantly: _Someone who knows what your father did. Someone who wants justice._

Britt deleted the message.

She couldn’t afford to panic. Not here. Not now.

“Hey,” Amy said softly. “You good?”

Britt forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Amy didn’t look convinced. But she let it go.

For now.

---

*Friday, 3:15 PM. After School.*

Britt walked out to find her dad’s car waiting at the curb.

He was leaning against it, arms crossed, face tight.

“Get in,” he said.

Britt hesitated.

“Now, Brittany.”

She got in.

The drive home was silent. Her dad didn’t turn on the radio. He didn’t ask about school.

When they pulled into the driveway, he turned to her.

“I got a call from the school,” he said. “Mr. Tristan says you’ve been disrespectful in class.”

Britt laughed, short and sharp. “He tried to touch me, Dad.”

Her dad’s face went pale.

“What did you say?”

“He tried to touch me,” Britt repeated. “And when I told him to stop, he threatened to fail me.”

Her dad looked away. His jaw worked.

“I’ll talk to the principal,” he said finally.

Britt nodded. She didn’t believe him.

She got out of the car and went inside without another word.

---

*Saturday morning. 10:00 AM.*

Britt woke up late.

Her phone had three missed messages from Amy.

*Amy:*

_You up?_

*Amy:*

_Party’s tonight. Don’t forget._

*Amy:*

_Oliver said he’s coming. For real this time._

Britt ignored them.

She showered, dressed in black jeans and a dark crop top, and spent twenty minutes on her eyeliner. If she was going to walk into that party, she was going to look like she owned it.

Her mom knocked on her door at noon.

“Lunch,” she said.

Britt came down to find grilled cheese and tomato soup. Comfort food. Her mom’s way of saying _I know something’s wrong, but I don’t know how to ask._

They ate in silence.

When Britt stood up to leave, her mom grabbed her wrist.

“Britt,” she said. “Whatever’s going on… you can tell me.”

Britt pulled away gently.

“I know, Mom,” she said. “I will. Soon.”

She didn’t know if that was a lie.

---

*Saturday afternoon. 2:00 PM.*

Britt couldn’t sit still.

She wandered through the house, restless. Every time her phone buzzed she thought it was the unknown number. It was never the unknown number. It was Amy sending memes. It was her mom asking if she wanted dinner early.

At 2:30 PM she gave up pretending to relax and went to her room.

She pulled out the notebook she’d started keeping since the mill. Dates. Times. Names. Anything she remembered her dad saying on the phone. Anything she’d overheard.

It felt like building a case against her own family.

Her hand shook writing it down.

She stopped when she got to the part about the offshore account. She didn’t know the account number. She didn’t know the bank. She just knew she’d heard her dad say “Cayman” once, late at night, laughing.

“Useless,” she whispered.

The door opened.

Her mom stood there with two mugs of tea.

“I thought you might want this,” her mom said.

Britt closed the notebook fast.

“Thanks,” she said.

Her mom set one mug on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t say anything for a long time.

“You’re quiet,” her mom said finally.

Britt shrugged. “Lots on my mind.”

“School?”

“Partly.”

Her mom nodded. “Your dad and I… we’re not blind, Britt. We know something’s wrong.”

Britt looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

Her mom sighed. “I mean you’ve been different since we moved here. Quieter. Angrier. And now Mr. Tristan’s calling, and you’re not sleeping.”

Britt looked down at her hands. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Are you?”

Britt didn’t answer.

Her mom reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Britt’s ear. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone. Okay?”

Britt nodded. She didn’t say anything.

When her mom left, Britt opened the notebook again.

She wrote one line: _If I tell the truth, who gets hurt?_

---

*Saturday evening. 6:00 PM.*

Britt’s dad came home early.

He didn’t say hello. He just dropped his keys on the counter and walked straight to the living room.

Britt followed him.

“You talked to the principal?” she asked.

He didn’t look at her. “I talked to him.”

“And?”

“And he said Mr. Tristan is a tenured teacher with twenty years of clean record,” her dad said. His voice was flat. “He said you’ve had behavioral issues since you started here.”

Britt felt her face go hot. “Behavioral issues? I’m not the one—”

“He said you were aggressive in class,” her dad cut in. “That you raised your voice. That you disrespected him.”

“So you believe him,” Britt said. It wasn’t a question.

Her dad finally looked at her. His eyes were tired. “I believe you have a temper, Britt. I believe you don’t think before you speak.”

Britt stared at him.

“Is that why you’re mad?” she asked quietly. “Because I’m making trouble again?”

Her dad rubbed his face. “I’m mad because I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The words hit harder than a slap.

Britt didn’t say anything. She turned and walked out.

She went to her room and locked the door.

She didn’t come out for dinner.

---

*Saturday night. 8:00 PM.*

Britt stood in front of her mirror, applying eyeliner with more aggression than necessary.

Her phone buzzed again.

*Unknown Number:*

_Did you go to the police?_

She deleted it without replying.

Her mom knocked on the door. “You ready? Amy’s waiting downstairs.”

“Yeah,” Britt said. She wiped her hands, checked her reflection one last time.

She looked dangerous. Good.

She was about to walk out when her phone buzzed again.

*Amy:*

_Josh said he’s picking Oliver up. Oliver’s pissed but he’s coming. An hour max, apparently._

Britt paused.

Forced to come.

Interesting.

She shoved the phone in her pocket and went downstairs.

Amy was waiting by the door, bouncing on her heels. “You ready?”

---

*[End of Chapter 5]*