"So that's how you think of me," He crossed his arms over his chest.
"I don't think about you at all," I snapped, letting the anger and fear fuel my tongue. "Unlike the rest of the star-struck morons in this school, I think literally nothing about you, because, turns out, people who threaten me aren't high on my give-a-shit-about list. You wanna take my scholarship? Go ahead. Go cry to your daddy. But I'm sure as hell not gonna let it go easy. I'll fight you. I'll fight your stupid brothers. I'll fight your dad. I'll fight anyone who gets between me and what I want in life. So go ahead. Try me. But don't say I didn't fucking warn you."
Spinning on my heel, I stormed away, my heart beating like frenzied bird against my ribs. Adrenaline scorched my veins, my body ready for anything. If he tried to run after me, I'd kick him in his nuts and run. If he tried to get close to me again like yesterday, I'd punch his face.
If I wasn't certain about it before, I was now; I hated Wolfgang Alexander Blackthorn with every fiber of my body.
But to hate your enemy better, you have to get to know him better. And I wasn't going to let a bit of newly-found despising get in my way of figuring out Wolf's whole deal. The more I knew about him, the better I could defend my scholarship from him.
Ask anyone at Lakecrest Preparatory about the Blackthorn brother's personal lives, and they'll do one of two things; A. Pretend like they don't know you, or the Blackthorn brothers, or even where their own butthole is, or B. Become selectively mute for a minimum duration of three minutes while you stare at them expectantly waiting for an answer.
I found this out at lunch. Or, I tried to. Turns out if you stand up to the school's golden boy, word gets around about it, and you accrue a few nasty looks and an entire dumpster's worth of being shafted. Even the usual lunch table I sat at with some non-threatening girls told me I couldn't sit there. My one haven in this hellish cafeteria - gone. A guy elbowed me into dropping my tray into the trash, his friends snickering from a table far away. I'd gone unnoticed - like cardboard, or a drab decoration no one cared about - and now I was public enemy number uno. People might've felt ambivalent about me before, but they sure as shit hated me now. But it was fine - I didn't come to this place to make friends, anyway.
I asked everyone who didn't immediately wrinkle their nose at me what they knew about the Blackthorn brothers', and they all gave me the same answer. Coughs. Sniffing. A slight clearing of the throat. A few girls who didn't seem to hate me swooned extremely helpfully. Finally, I abandoned all hope of conversing intelligently with my peers and turned my sights on the teachers. More than several of them told me it was an inappropriate thing to ask and then kicked me out of their classroom before I could argue.
I managed to strike gold with Mrs. Greene, though. A young-ish, overly polite teacher, she had a baby face and the most gorgeous shade of auburn skin that she played up with floaty blouses and skirts. She was the chemistry teacher, so it probably helped that when I interrogated her, she was half-distracted with pouring two dangerous-looking chemicals together.
"The Blackthorn brothers?" She puffed. "Oh goodness, why are you asking me this now? Can't you wait until after class?"
"Well, no. You see, I'm writing a history essay titled 'An In-Depth Look At Examples of Homo Sapiens With Their Heads Dangerously Deep Up Their Own Buttholes', and I need to turn it in. Next period. Because I forgot to do it."
"You're the best student in my class, Bee. You can't expect me to buy that. Or that title." Mrs. Greene shot me a frown, and nearly dropped her beaker. "O-Oh, I don't know anything about them, alright? Even if I knew, Mr. Blackthorn is on the school board, so I couldn't just tell you. He'd have my head."
"I know a lot of people would probably have your head for mixing some very scary looking chemicals in the same room as one of your students. While I don't have protective gear on," I singsonged.
Mrs. Greene's mouth dropped. "You barged in!"
"Still," I squinted at my hand. "Is that a bit of acid I see, eating away at my skin? Help! Someone help!"
"Alright!" Mrs. Greene hissed, putting the beakers down. "You don't have to yell. I know they lost their mother when they were young."
I suddenly felt awful about snooping. Almost awful enough to stop. Keyword here being 'almost'.
"I know every year they take the school day off on January 8th, without fail. Mr. Blackthorn said once during a meeting that it was to visit her grave." Mrs. Greene grunted. "There. Are you happy now? Please leave, I've got a lot to prepare for lab today."
"Did Mark Gerund really stop coming to school after he got in a fight with Wolf two years ago?"
Mrs. Greene suddenly looked nervous. "Yes. Well, I was new here when it happened, so I don't remember it very well. But yes, I think he dropped out around that time. Now please, if you don't mind, I have to get back to work."
"Right. Um. Sorry. I wasn't going to actually tell on you -"
She sighed. "I know. I won't tell on you, either."
"For what?"
"For being too clever for your own good. Now get out!" She marched over and shooed me out the classroom door, slamming it behind me with a muffled; "Thank you!".
I turned it over in my head for the rest of the day; the Blackthorns lost their mom. I couldn't imagine life without my Mom - she's a rock, an island, the whole thing that keeps our family together. If any of us - Dad, or Mom, or me - wasn't there anymore, we'd fall apart.
It gnawed on me, sometimes - that Dad would leave. It was a natural part of studying a lot about depression and suicide, I guess. He swore to us he'd never do it, but I was always afraid I'd come home one day and he'd be in the bathtub, or hanging from the ceiling, or -
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. Not now. Get those thoughts out of your head, Bee. They're not helping.