“Girls, girls!”
They scattered like billiard balls from a crack and left at their center was Miranda, eyes wide and terrified, and Fallon, lips pressed in a hard line, eyes sharp and accusing.
“What’s going on here?”
Fallon snaked her arms in front of her chest but didn’t take her eyes off Miranda. “Nothing, Ms. L.”
“Nothing? Miranda?”
Miranda cleared her throat and pushed a fuzzy lock of hair behind her ear. “She’s right, Ms. L. It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing, Ms. L. I saw the whole thing.” Kayleigh blazed down the hall, pointing. “Miranda shoved Fallon. I saw it. That girl is crazy—she needs to be expelled. And look, look, she ripped Fallon’s shirt!”
There was a small tear at the collar of Fallon’s shirt. She looked embarrassed or guilty—I couldn’t tell which—and began pulling her long hair over her shoulder to cover it. “That happened a long time ago.”
“So neither of you are going to tell me what was going on?”
Miranda and Fallon looked up at me and blinked. I watched the bright pink edge of Fallon’s tongue poke out from between her pursed lips and slide across her bottom lip, leaving a glossy trail. “We told you,” she said slowly.
My forehead started to pound and I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Okay, fine. Move on. You, too, Kayleigh. Go.”
Kayleigh threaded her arm through Fallon’s and tugged her away, throwing sinister glances over her shoulder and muttering to Fallon. Miranda’s eyes were glued to Fallon’s back and I could see her cheeks burn, her teeth clench. I put a hand softly on her shoulder.
“Ignore her, Miranda. Girls like that—”
“Only grow up to be bigger girls like that.”
I smiled, despite my attempt to be adult and full of after-school-special wisdom. “Yeah, a lot of them do. Believe me: I know better than anyone what being bullied feels like. Especially because you don’t fit in with the pretty girls or the popular girls or the smart girls.”
I looked at Miranda hopefully and saw the crestfallen look on her face.
“Oh, no, not that I meant that you’re not all of those things—pretty, popular, smart—it’s just that, well, I was bullied in high school. Right here, in these halls.” I pointed to the scuffed tile underneath us as though my tortured footprints would still be there as proof. “It was torturous and everyone hated me because I was different. And I stayed different. But when I became an adult, being different is what got me my job, my best friend, even my boyfrie—” I choked on the word, and the need to check my cell phone for a call I didn’t hear or a text I hadn’t read burned up my arms.
“You were a student here?”
I nodded quickly. “Yep.”
“And your being different got you a job as a substitute teacher.”
My mouth dropped open. My “being different” got me a job thirty floors underground and got me into a hell of a lot of scrapes. “Um, in a way, yes. You should probably get going.”
Miranda nodded and stepped away.
“Oh, wait!” I swiped the book that had been laid flat on the floor, just behind Miranda’s left foot. “You dropped this.”
I held it out to her and Miranda’s eyes shot over it as though she’d never seen it, then up at me. I glanced down at the cover and my heart lurched.
“Protection spells?” I remembered my own desperation. I would have done anything to make myself invisible, to grant myself a few hours free from the demons in my high school hallways.
Miranda reached for the book and I eyed her. “If you need help, you need to tell someone. A silly book of spells isn’t going to protect anyone.”
She snatched the book out of my hand and shoved it in her bag. “I know,” she said to her shoes.
I watched Miranda walk alone down the hall, trying my best to swallow the enormous lump that had formed in my throat.
“Everything okay, love?”
I jumped and grabbed at my thundering heart. “Oh! You scared the crap out of me. Someone should get you a bell.”
“So you could ring every time you need your bell rung?” Will’s grin was familiarly salacious, his hazel-flecked eyes slipping from my lips to my naked collarbone, to the cleave of my Nina-scaffolded breasts. I covered my chest and narrowed my eyes.
“No, that would mean that I would have a bell. And thanks, by the way, for ruining a very touching moment here. Have you dismissed your fan club?”
Will leaned against the bank of lockers, tossing a handful of peanut M&Ms into his mouth. “Can I help it if these girls are fascinated by history?”
I rolled my eyes.
“And your ‘moment’? Saw it,” he said, chewing. “Wasn’t that touching? Nice with the ‘I was bullied, too’ stuff.”
“I was bullied,” I muttered, still staring down the hall.
“Anyway, ready to go? Oh.” Will kicked at the ground. “Dropped this.”
He handed me a receipt and I took it cautiously as though it were a snake about to bite. “This is a receipt.”