“If it’s good enough for John, hey?” the Neanderthal said. What he lacked in height he made up for in muscles. I think I recognized him from Chemistry. More laughing from his crew of equally athletic-looking idiot friends.
“Go fuck yourself,” I said in my most eloquent voice. My hands balled into fists, I wanted to hit him so badly. It didn’t matter that he was packing serious muscle. It no doubt wouldn’t end well, but whatever. Pain, hospital, detention, suspension. They were all problems for some remote future. What mattered right now was payback, and replacing that smirk on his face with something a lot uglier.
The sudden thought of Mom intruded on my rush of anger. Her picking me up from the hospital. Again. Her disappointment as she related her conversation with the principal. Again.
My fists stayed by my side, knuckles white.
My fury just made them laugh harder. Hell, there were even some chuckles from others strolling past. Rage roared to life inside of me. If ever I’d had the urge to burn things down, it was then. He did not have the right to do that. To touch me however he wanted. Then to treat touching me, and my outrage at his doing so, like a joke.
No way. Not happening.
Maybe I couldn’t break his nose without breaking my mother’s heart, but I had other options. I just needed some time to think things through. Revenge would be mine.
As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who wound up in detention that afternoon. (I hadn’t meant to almost doze off during Math again, honest.) I’d no sooner pulled out a book and pen when the Neanderthal himself slunk through the door. Holy shit. Bloody toilet paper filled both nostrils and his nose looked seriously swollen. Behind him came none other than John.
Coincidence? Not so much.
Ever so calmly, he sat down at the desk beside me, pulling out a textbook.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I have things under control.” A complete lie, though it made me feel better. Capable, even. “And didn’t you tell me violence is not the answer?”
“Can’t remember.”
He hadn’t wanted to get dragged into any of my drama at school. He’d definitely said that. And seeing how he’d given up dealing and was putting a real effort into studying, I understood. Besides, I didn’t need him to defend me. I might not win every battle, but I was more than willing to fight for myself.
“I mean it, you shouldn’t have.” I leaned closer to him, talking quietly. “You said you’re taking school seriously, cleaning up your act. Not adding to your record because of me, remember?”
“He won’t touch you again.”
“John.”
“Relax,” he said, flipping through the pages. “It’s fine. You’re making too big a deal out of this.”
“Bullshit,” I hissed. “Why is there one set of rules for you and another for me?”
“Because I never knew a girl I wanted to look after before.”
That shut me up.
From the front of the classroom, the teacher watched us with a warning in his eyes. Apparently detention involved less catching up with your friends than I realized. No wonder I used to put more effort into avoiding it.
“We’re talking about this later,” I said.
One shoulder lifted, all nonchalant. “Sure. Whatever you want, Edie.”
He slipped out at the end of detention before we could talk and I didn’t get a chance to speak to him for the rest of the school week. He started spending every lunch on the basketball court with Anders, and was the last person to arrive at English and the first to leave. Jerk. Guess he didn’t like being told what to do any better than I did.
“If he makes you cry, he’s not worth it.”
Hang winked at me, setting a pot of rice down on the dining room table. “I don’t think he makes her cry, Mom.”
“We really are just friends,” I said.
“Of course you are.” Hang smirked. “He’s so unattractive, Mom. Edie couldn’t possibly be interested in him. All those yucky muscles and cheekbones like a Rodin sculpture. Disgusting.”
“Boys,” her mom said, voice full of scorn.
At the other end of the table, her dad kept his head down, ladling a chicken-and-noodle dish called pho into a bowl. There were steamed greens and a spicy dish with fish in it along with the main course. Everything smelled divine and looked amazing. Far superior to the microwave mac and cheese I’d been planning on eating at home.
“This looks delicious,” I said.
“Eat,” ordered her mother, sounding vaguely pleased with the compliment.
After dinner came a platter of fruit, all while Hang’s mom grilled us both on our school grades, social life, and anything else she cared to know about. As long as we avoided the topic of John, I was happy. Meanwhile, her dad barely said a word all evening. I couldn’t blame him. With me here and Hang’s older brother away at college, the poor man was outnumbered.
“Take these.” Mrs. Tran loaded me down with containers of food on our way out. Enough to last for days. Despite my size, she seemed to have serious reservations about how much I had to eat at home. I didn’t fight her. Firstly, the food really was delicious; secondly, only a fool would try to say no to the woman. “Home by nine thirty, Hang. It’s a school night.”
“I will be.”
Outside, clouds covered most of the sky. Looked like it would rain later. A pity, but I didn’t feel like delaying my mission. “I drove past his place on the way over and the car was out front.”
“We’re seriously doing this?” asked Hang.
“You don’t have to—”
“Oh, no. I have to.” She’d been just as outraged by the butt-groping incident. Possibly more. “Keys, please.”
I tossed them to her.
“I’ve never been a getaway driver before,” she said, pushing her glasses farther up her nose. It was strange to see her in them; usually she wore contacts.
“I believe in you.”
Inside the car, she started the engine and put on her seat belt before giving the eight cartons of eggs sitting on the backseat a speculative glance. “That’s a lot of eggs.”
“Justice is about to be served sunny-side up.”
Carrie and Sophia had been to a party at the creep’s house a few years back. It would be an understatement to say they’d been happy to provide us with the address. Actually, they’d been sad-faced about not being included. The more people attending, however, the more likely it was we’d get caught. In and out with a simple two-woman team would work best. At least, it seemed safest. We’d both worn black; no big deal for me of course. Black jeans and T-shirt, my hair braided. Hang had gone for shorts and a top with ruffles down the front, her hair also tied back. Stealth with style.
An upbeat song by The 1975 played on the radio. Not the theme from Mission Impossible, but it would do. I’d considered asking John to drive, but he’d already paid his dues with this guy. Plus, this was women’s business.