Finally the teacher said, “Camden, I don’t think taking pictures of your classmates is appropriate.”
Camden shrugged. He obviously didn’t care if it was appropriate or not, if he failed or not. He was out to prove a point and he was good at proving them. “You never said it wasn’t. Besides, no one in this whole school has the right to act the way that Ellie Watt does. Except for Ellie Watt.”
More eyes on her. She wished her school was built over Hellmouth and it would swallow her in one gulp.
Camden continued. “When I see these pictures, when I see this face, this expression, I see someone plotting out their future. I see the bad things this girl will do. And I understand why. That is what I call justification. Thank you.”
Before he could take his seat, before anyone could even think about clapping, the justification took hold of its subject. The girl got up, the stool clanging to the floor behind her. She leaned forward, her eyes, her fury, on the kohl-rimmed boy.
“You stalker!” she yelled, her voice surprising her, him, and everyone else in the room. It wasn’t just that he took photos of her without her knowing, it wasn’t just that he was trying to get graded on them, it was what was happening in those photos. It was what they represented; her leg was hidden in those photos but the scars were all over her face.
“You sick fucking freak!” She screamed the last words, rendering the whole room into silence. “All you do is follow me, pester me, bug me, and now take photos like a fucking creeper! You need a life, a hobby, and a girlfriend. And for the last time, no it will not be me!”
And with that she slammed her sketchbook down on the table, scooped up her backpack from the floor, and left the room. She didn’t care if she was leaving in the middle of class, she had a feeling her teacher would understand. She just wanted to get away from him and that situation as quickly as she could.
The girl ran out into the halls and went straight for the girl’s bathroom, the safest place for any teenage girl to hole up and cry. But as she sat huddled above the toilet, the tears wouldn’t come. She was so angry, so livid. Justification? Oh, she was more justified than ever now.
She waited until the bell rang signaling the last class of the day. She had ten minutes to get to her social studies class. Ten minutes to get through the halls and put on a brave face.
Only she couldn’t go straight to class because she had to get her textbook from the locker. She gathered some strength, pushed her long blonde hair behind her ears, and marched out into the hall as smoothly as her leg would allow. She looked straight ahead, avoiding any stares that were coming her way, those predictable glances of pity, and went to her locker. The guy next to her was putting something away and gave her a quick smile as she approached. So far so good.
Then she felt it. That presence. She always felt it, wherever she was. She wished she had noticed it that day during gym class. This whole thing could have been avoided.
With her heart in her throat, she turned around and looked Camden McQueen right into his bespectacled eyes, their brilliant blue color magnified by the glasses. She expected him to be angry or sad or even apologetic after she’d yelled at him in front of everyone. But his eyes were blank, as if every feeling inside him had been sucked away and he was just an empty bag. He was as cold as the metal locker her back was now pressed against.
“You’re a bad person, Ellie,” he said without a trace of irony.
She watched him carefully, like a trap ready to spring.
“I’m not bad. The world is bad and I’m just trying to survive in it.”
He smiled, both sad and self-righteous.
“And that’s why I chose you,” he whispered, leaning in so close she had to flatten against the locker.
Then, after he searched her eyes for a few torturous moments, he whipped around and took off down the hall. He walked as if he’d just won something, but in the girl’s opinion, they both had lost.
Now
I never thought I’d be able to fall asleep with my hands cuffed behind my back, but I guess when the body is tired, the body is tired. And I was fucking exhausted.
When I woke up, the sun was already up and birds were chirping outside the window like they were welcoming the day with open wings. I was welcoming the day by feeling scared, stupid, and ashamed. I was lying in Camden’s bed for the second time in a row, only there was no hunky, naked man in bed with me. No, the hunky naked man was dressed and sitting in the corner of the room, poised regally in an armchair.
My eyes squinted from the light. From the way he was positioned by the window, he almost looked angelic. But angels don’t have tattoos and they certainly don’t have guns in their hands.
I sat up slowly with burning abs, the flannel sheets falling away from me. I supposed he had covered me up in the middle of the night. How nice of him.