“Yet,” she said pointedly. “See you at lunch!” She waved at me before running down the math hallway, leaving me to walk alone to English.
I slid into my seat just as the bell rang, my heavy book slamming into the old wooden desk. Mr. Heart hadn’t arrived yet, so I smoothed my hair and wiped my palm against my face to check for blood.
Even before Cynthia’s little catfight, I had been the recipient of taunts and insults all morning; all ranging from asking how much he cost to wondering how I did it. I didn’t give anyone answers and had kept my hood up more than usual. My carefully crafted “disappear into the walls” routine had been broken wide open. I sighed and slammed my head onto the desk as Mr. Heart walked in, silencing the class immediately.
Mr. Heart got right to business, one of the few teachers to take the end of the school year seriously. A little more than half the class were seniors, and so, their minds had already moved to graduation, but a few others of us—myself included—had a whole other year of high school education in front of us. I pulled out my notebook and began to take notes in preparation for the final exam in two weeks.
“Pssst.”
I heard the noise, and I could already tell whoever had made it was trying to get my attention.
“Pssst.”
Still going to ignore you.
“Pssst, Joclyn.”
Great, now they want to get me in trouble.
“Joclyn.”
I looked up to the whispered voice. One of the seniors on the football team had turned all the way around from two rows away to face me.
“You and that LaRue kid, eh? I always knew you was a gold digger.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I brushed my frustration aside and stuck my tongue out at him like a child.
“I bet he likes that, too, doesn’t he? You dirty little minx.” He licked his lips hungrily, and I ducked my head.
This is why I hadn’t wanted Ryland to come and pick me up; I knew this would happen. I chewed on my tongue for a minute before returning to take notes.
That’s when I saw him.
An unbelievably tall, lanky man stood with his back against the wall, not far from my desk. He stood tall, with long arms folded across his chest. A thick curtain of stark, straight blonde hair hung to his shoulders, framing his narrow face. His features were sharp and defined, but they suited him rather than making him look like a villain.
If I hadn’t been so taken back by his piercing gaze, or even dared to get another look, I might have said he was handsome. However, he was staring at me. I had glanced at him before looking away, a blush rushing to my cheeks at the sight of his deep-blue gaze boring into me.
I wondered why no one else noticed him; he was so foreboding and his stare so piercing. I couldn’t be the only one who felt uncomfortable with him being there. Then again, I was the only one that he was staring at.
I fidgeted before trying again to focus, but it was no use. I looked straight forward, note-taking forgotten, trying not to continue to steal uncomfortable glances toward the figure who leaned toward me. I dropped my head, letting my long, black hair fall between us to take away the temptation to look back.
The minutes on the clock ticked by at a snail’s pace, my whole body aware of the continued stare I was getting. My skin prickled with an uncomfortable energy that kept my nerves on high alert. I kept shifting my weight to see if he was still there, a chill going up my spine every time I caught a glimpse of his unmoving figure or ripped designer jeans in my peripheral vision.
I ran out of the room when the bell rang, desperate to get away from the penetrating stare, as well as from any new taunts from the football team. My next class was empty of tall, blonde men and open catcalls, giving me time to focus on the material and catch up on what I had missed last week. When the bell rang, I ran from that classroom, too, my nerves still on high alert from blonde men, and angry girls.
The news of my fight had now traveled through the school. As I made my way to the cafeteria, I was treated to the open catcalls as well as looks that ranged from curious to terrified. I can’t say I blamed them; I was scared of myself.
I pulled my hood up over my head and attempted to disappear behind the long overhang of fabric. I let the catcalls wash over me and focused on the feet of the students around me. I walked down a tunnel of shame; everyone turning to look, everyone saying something. What I wouldn’t give to have said something back, but the fear of a repeat performance plagued me. My progress was stopped by two large, worn, dress shoes.
“Hood down, Ms. Despain.”
I pulled down my hood and looked up to the old, withered face of Mr. Ray, our Assistant Principal.
“I hear you had an altercation earlier today. Do I need to remind you what our policy is, about fighting?”