Olivia and Ricky's Odyssey to Rock Bottom

10. Inquisition

Content warning: Though there aren't graphic details, this chapter contains mentions of sexual assault.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Ricky stepped through the door to the headmaster's small front office, where his secretary, Adrianna, sat. She was a brunette in her late twenties, dressed in an elegant shirt and pencil skirt.

The office—smelling dusty and faintly of her perfume—was furnished with a vintage wooden desk placed in front of low metal filing cabinets. Over the cabinets hung a huge old painting of crusaders in battle on horseback, the heavy golden frame carved and decorative.

Two large and boxy armchairs in brown leather were placed against the powder-blue wall across from the desk, next to the door that led into the administration office.

Ricky took a seat in one of them without a word—Adrianna barely looking up from her work. It was far from the first time he had occupied one of the chairs in front of her. After a while, Ricky started drumming his fingers on the wide armrest in an impatient rhythm, earning an annoyed glance from Adrianna.

An angry buzzing finally came from the intercom on the desk, and the secretary pushed a button to answer.

"Please, send in Mr. Stark von Linden."

"Yes, sir. - Father Correll will see you now." Adrianna gestured at the tall carved double doors at the end of the room. They almost reached the high ceiling.

Ricky nodded and swung his messenger bag over his shoulder as he rose from the chair with a sigh, walked up to the doors, and knocked.

"Enter," Correll called from inside. "Please, have a seat," he offered when Ricky stepped in and closed the door behind him, pointing at an additional set of the same boxy brown armchairs in front of his big old wooden desk.

Correll was sitting in an office chair with his back to the two draped windows in the room. A large wooden crucifix hung between them right behind him.

The walls were painted in the same powder-blue color as the front office, but it was harder to tell because of the many framed photos of graduating classes covering all of them. The oldest, which hung above the four-foot-tall bookcase on Ricky's left, dated back a hundred years to when St. Aquinas had been an all-boys school. A large bust of St. Thomas Aquinas stood on top of the bookcase, surrounded by a collection of antique ornamental plates and an array of memorabilia.

The headmaster observed Ricky as he sat down, placing his school bag on the floor by his feet. "Where's your shirt?" he asked with a nod of the head at Ricky, eyeing the naked skin under his blazer.

Ricky sighed, trying not to get worked up as he explained. "The driver who took me to school was an idiot and caused me to ruin the one I was wearing. I've asked for a new one to be delivered. It should be here shortly. Sir," he added after a beat.

Correll nodded and removed his reading glasses. Leaning back in his chair, he put his elbows on the armrests and knotted his fingers together, contemplating Ricky.

"Yes, well," he breathed in deeply, "normally we would, of course, address that issue, but I'm afraid we stand before a bigger problem than a transgression of school regulations, Frederick."

Ricky furrowed his brows, not sure what he would hear next.

"I have been privileged to some information regarding the First Dance," Correll paused, his blue eyes flickering back and forth between Ricky's, observing him, trying to detect any change in his demeanor.

Ricky felt a chill run down his back as he realized what this was about.

"Information that involves you," Correll continued.