Oh, I get it. The bully everyone’s afraid of.
The teacher rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, don’t just stand there. Clean up this mess and get yourself a new tray! And try not to be so clumsy next time.”
My lips part in anger. I’m so close to pointing at the idiot who tripped me and letting rip what really happened, but I catch a movement to my right. Trey is staring at me, shaking his head ever so subtly. The look in his eyes tells me to just take it.
Grinding my teeth together, I crouch back down and collect my tray, refusing to look at the snickering moron who thinks he can get the better of me. He’s not getting squat. He thinks he’s a badass? I’ve seen worse, which is why I’m here. Which is why I’m going to dump my tray and forget about eating anything tonight.
Because I owe Robbie. Because I want to see a little justice in this screwed-up world.
Sliding the tray into the dirty dishes trolley, I don’t even bother looking over my shoulder as I quietly slip from the room, determination keeping me from falling apart.
I can do this. I can survive this place. I’m not going to let these assholes beat me. I’ll get some sleep in the safety of my locked-up room and start the next day anew.
Everything’s going to be okay.
*****
Normally at this time of day I’d be sitting in Economics next to Charlize. She’d be talking about her date with Matt and how they got it on in the backseat of his Mustang. Anything to avoid fiscal policy, right? Or maybe it’s that Charlize and Matt are obsessed with each other and she never knows when to shut up about it.
Normally, I’d sit there staring at the teacher like I was listening while grinning at my friend’s detailed descriptions. She’s a great storyteller.
I wonder who she’s talking to right now.
Does she miss me?
Is she worried? Will my runaway story hold up?
They all think I’ve flown the coop after a big fight with my dad.
It’s not completely out of the question. I wouldn’t say my family was disjointed. I mean, I love my parents, I just…
A spitball hits the side of my face. I flinch and press my lips together, not wanting to make a fuss. I don’t need any more eyes on me.
The teacher is still droning. Stirling’s Formula. Equations are all over the board. I can’t understand any of them.
All I can think about is Charlize and her silver nail polish, her glossy lips, and the shapes her mouth makes when she’s telling a story.
Then, inevitably, my mind swerves to the look of wonder on Robbie’s face as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I giggled. He blushed. We were only new friends. We hadn’t kissed before. I didn’t even know if I liked him that way. But it’d been a fun night. I was tipsy on happiness and I couldn’t resist turning back to sweeten the moment.
I shouldn’t have turned back.
Another spitball hits my neck. I grind my teeth together and force myself not to spin.
Don’t give in.
Stay strong.
Stoic.
Mocking sniggers wear away at my resolve.
I want to spin and unleash a verbal lashing—small dicks, puny brains. Rain down a little she-hell on their asses. But I can’t.
I have no power here.
The only control I have is what I’m going to say on that witness stand, and that’ll be worth nothing if I don’t make it there.
A gunshot in the back of my mind.
Robbie’s foot twitches.
A pair of pitiless eyes stare down at his lifeless body.
I run.
Another spitball catches me behind the ear and something snaps.
I spin with a snarl, slamming my hands on the desk behind me.
“Quit it,” I seethe.
Fear tries to warn me off as I stare down Ivan the Terrible, because he’s an asshole…because he can make my nightmare a million times worse. He proved that at dinner last night. Yeah, it was him who tripped me up. I found out his name this morning when I heard some guys laughing about what he did to me. I nearly skipped breakfast. I wasn’t sure I could handle Ivan’s smug smirk or the mocking laughter, but Dean Hancock caught me at the door and wouldn’t let me leave.
Ivan’s doing it again, goading me on while his friends snicker in surround sound. Snide murmurs from all sides weaken my resolve, daring me to make it worse.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Lorden?” The teacher stops droning long enough to notice me.
I turn back slowly, my hands quivering as I shake my head.
I’m smart enough to know newbie etiquette. Don’t squeal on the bully. Even if he deserves it. Even if these sniggering asshats should all go down.
It will only make things worse.
“Right, any questions, then?” The teacher gazes across the room and a guy in the front puts up his hand.
I thread my fingers together and focus on breathing.
Another spitball hits me on the left.
Life’s not fair. That’s what my mother would say before putting her brave smile on.
Do the right thing. That’s what my father would say, his eyebrows raised, meaning do what I want you to, whether it’s right or wrong.
What does justice really mean in my world?
Nothing.