The Rebel: A Sweet Teen & YA Girl Next Door Romance (Covington Prep: The Girls We Love Book 7) by Key Kylie

Author:Key, Kylie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kylie Key
Published: 2023-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

VALENCIA

I had arrived at Miss Creighton’s door to see her stacking rolls of paper with several other students. Miss Creighton had taught me in sophomore year, but Mr. Moreno was my art teacher now.

I knocked and entered straight away. Miss Creighton spun around, her eyes widening as if I was an unexpected visitor. For a moment, I hoped my punishment might have been rescinded, that Mrs. Hayman decided Mrs. Fox had indeed overreacted.

“I think I’m supposed to be here?” I said with a cutesy smile.

Miss Creighton was, however, unaffected by it. “Yesterday, Miss Reid,” she said, a sharp glance at her watch.

“Yes, Miss,” I said, immediately deflated. “Sorry. It was a misunderstanding and...”

“I’ll get you to start the washing up,” Miss Creighton cut in, not interested in my excuses, “all the jars and brushes need to be cleaned.”

I had liked Miss Creighton as a teacher and she’d been extremely encouraging of my art. And as Head of the Department, she might have some sway in the selections for the art exhibition. But her heavy frown indicated she wasn’t the least bit impressed by me.

“Of course,” I said agreeably, though disheartened to see the trays of jars next to the sink. I set to work, internally grumbling as three other kids sat around the table and proceeded to make icicles for the school winter dance. That looked like fun, cutting out templates, adding glue and glitter. How was that considered punishment when I was cleaning up paint jars?

I worked faster, not only to worm my way into Miss Creighton’s good books but to join the kids who were chatting and laughing. I wanted to be making icicles! My fingers twitched to be creative. Glancing over my shoulder periodically, I only knew one of the girls, Padma, and she certainly didn’t look like someone who would get into trouble.

Miss Creighton left through the adjoining door and I carried one tray across to its rightful place.

“Hey, they look amazing,” I said.

All three smiled but nobody said anything, like I was the outcast.

“Are you finished, Valencia?” Seemed Miss Creighton had sneaked back in.

“I just have one more tray,” I said, scurrying back to the sink. “I was just admiring the icicles. They’re cool. I could help, if you like.”

“Why don’t you finish that job first?” Miss Creighton said, “Then I’ve got some paper that needs to be cut and stacked.”

“Sure,” I said. But Miss Creighton’s definition of ‘some’ was slightly understated. I would be cutting paper into the next century if the bundle was anything to go by.

An hour later, I was still cutting paper, whereas the girls had left. And no, they weren’t making icicles as punishment but were part of the Craft Club. I’d overheard Miss Creighton say that they could lay the icicles onto the trays to dry and I would clean up the glue and glitter mess.

The glitter, especially, was notorious to clean up and having worked in silence the whole time, I was looking forward to leaving. Thankfully,

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