CHAPTER TWO
"She burned too bright for this world."
~Emily Bront?
PAST
DANTE
I'd always had a soft spot for her. Since I could remember her flashing eyes and stubborn face were dear to me.
Even before she'd decided we were friends, before our first fateful bonding moment outside of the vice principal's office when she first realized I was in her corner, I'd admired her.
Admired that she never backed down. Admired that, with the way she was treated by nearly everyone around her, she never bent, not one iota, let alone came near to breaking.
Her strength galvanized me, made me see the world in a different way.
I had it so easy. My mother was awful, my father dismal, but my life was pampered and I could escape any time I wanted, which was often, and visit my gram, who lived a short walk away and made up for both of my pieces of shit parents and then some.
I had an anger problem and a bad attitude. This I knew. But it was Scarlett who inspired me to give those things purpose.
The first time I tried to help, she didn't even notice me.
We were in the cafeteria at school. I was in line to get lunch, stealing glances at her.
She was by herself. She always was. She was less interested in talking to other kids than any kid I'd ever seen besides myself. Once, I'd even taken a seat across from her to eat, and she'd still barely said two words to me.
Her thick brown hair was endearingly messy. She had the perfect face of a doll, but it was always set into hard lines, an incongruous, arresting look but one that I couldn't stop looking at. And I looked a lot. I enjoyed watching her. She wasn't like anybody else, didn't react to things in the same way. I got a kick out of expecting the unexpected from her.
Every inch of her tiny frame read: This girl is tough and she does not plan to deal with your shit. Do not mess with her.
So why was everyone always messing with her?
They loved to tease her about the trashcan stuff, and I thought that was about the most messed up thing ever. It set my teeth on edge. What an awful thing to tease someone about.
No part of me understood, but then, I'd never felt like someone who fit in, either.
They were serving cheese zombies and tomato soup for lunch, one of my favorites, and I waited in line just watching her and not particularly paying attention to anything else.
I couldn't help but overhear the boys in front of me, though. There were two of them and they were snickering. It was the type of laugh where you knew there was something bad behind it. Something mean, and so I focused on them, listening as they revealed themselves to be just the kind of little shits I had no patience for.
"I swear to God, Jason," one said to the other. "I have five dollars in my backpack, and if you do it, it's all yours."
Jason laughed harder. "I'll get into trouble."
"It's five bucks! Just say you tripped and spilled it. Hell, some tomato soup on her head might make her smell better."
They both went into loud peals of laughter. I thought they sounded like nasty, little hyenas.
I felt sick. I didn't even have to hear any more, I knew what they were planning and to whom, but I did hear more, I listened and collected my food, then quietly followed them.
I set down my tray on the first table I passed.
Jason's giggling friend sat down at the next one and waved him on.
With an evil grin, Jason approached Scarlett from behind, still holding his tray.
With quick furious steps I caught up to him, grabbed his tray, stepped on his foot, and sent my elbow hard into his chin all at once.
He went down with a gratifying cry.
Very calmly, I took his tomato soup and poured it right into his bratty, dismayed face.
"Is it funny now, you little shit?" I spat at him right before a teacher started dragging me away.
I glanced at Scarlett as I went.
She'd turned at the commotion, looking bored with only a touch of interest in her big, dark eyes as she looked at me, but no comprehension on her face that I'd just saved her from a headful of soup.
Still, that didn't deter me. Her plight ate at me. I'd lie in bed, hands clenched into fists, and stew about it.
I was a lonely, solemn boy, more sensitive than I'd ever admit, and I couldn't stand what was happening to her.
Anytime something was really bothering me, I took it to Gram.
"It's not right," I told my glamorous grandmother. "It's wrong, the way she's being treated. The kids are monsters, and the teachers don't care until it's gotten so bad that Scarlett gets herself into trouble. It's every day, Gram. Every day she has to put up with these little shits picking on her."