Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
He wasn’t holding the door closed, but he is waiting, now propped up against the door to the janitor closet. His face is a stony mask when I glare up at him. “What did I tell you?” he murmurs.
The door opens behind me. “I think it’s some of my best work.” Tiana steps up next to him, smirking, sliding an arm around his waist. But that isn’t the worst part. The worst is when he drapes an arm around her shoulders, shrugging, before the two of them walk off together down the hall. He doesn’t even look back once.
How could he?
My heart is in pieces at my feet by the time I remember I was trying to leave. I need to—people can see me; they’re laughing, pointing, chanting words like whore and slut. Forget trying to have a little dignity. Forget keeping my head held high. What matters now is survival, which means running blindly past them, sprinting for the double doors leading out to the quad.
And straight into another girl on her way out. She stumbles back, letting go of the door and almost falling on her ass. I would ignore her if it wasn’t for the hand she wraps around my wrist before I can get away. “Oh, my God,” she gasps, looking me up and down. “What happened to you?”
“What does it look like?” I snap, pulling my wrist free and taking off.
“Wait. Wait!” She jogs up next to me. “Let me help you. Seriously, let me help you get cleaned up.”
“It’s marker! Permanent marker!”
“We can still get it off you. Please, let me.” She grabs my backpack this time, tugging gently. “I have alcohol wipes in my car. That will help. We can at least clean your face up.”
I know this girl. I’ve seen her before. “You’re one of his friends,” I mutter, covering my forehead with one hand, keeping my head down and my shoulders up high like that will do anything to protect me.
“Whose? Don’t worry about that now. Come on, let’s clean you up.” She’s gentle, kind, and I guess it’s been long enough since I’ve experienced any kindness that I don’t offer any more arguments. It’s easier to follow her to the parking lot, where we head for her car instead of mine. Before letting me in, she opens the trunk and pulls out a first aid kit.
She then opens the passenger door using her key fob, and I duck in quickly, releasing the breath I was holding once I’m safe inside. Now I can cover my face with both hands, weeping behind them, shaking.
How could they? How could he?
“Here. Let me.” The girl’s touch is gentle, first stroking my hair and brushing sweaty strands away from my skin before tearing open a packet and pulling out a wipe. “You just stay still, okay?”
I can’t even look at her once my hands drop to my lap. I’m too humiliated. Tears roll down my cheeks from behind closed lids while she cleans my forehead. “It’s coming off,” she murmurs, making me shudder in relief while another sob bursts out of me. “I’m sorry this happened. I know how it feels to be bullied.”
“Why? Why does she have to do these things? Why hasn’t somebody done something about her?”
“I’m guessing you mean Tiana,” she mutters. My head bobs once, and she sighs, louder than ever. “That girl is a disease.”
Thank God. Finally, for the first time, somebody gets it. There’s somebody at this school who wants more than to break me.
“My name is Emma, by the way,” she murmurs. “Kellen is good friends with the twins, Preston and Easton. I’m with both of them.”
It’s not easy to hide my surprise, but I try. She’s so casual about it.
“He wants me to drop out,” I whisper. She scowls, eyes narrow, but says nothing. What is there to say?
“Here. Look, see? It really helped.” She flips down the passenger visor. There’s a mirror attached to the back, and while my forehead is a little red now from all the rubbing, the marker is gone.
“Thank you so much,” I choke out before a fresh wave of emotion sweeps me up.
She doesn’t say anything. She only gets to work on one cheek, then the other. By the time she’s finished, I’ve pulled myself together enough to tackle my chest and arms. Slowly, but surely, the evidence of the attack is wiped away. The car smells like alcohol by the time we’re finished, but at least I’m not ashamed to be seen by anybody walking past. I’m not some obscene billboard advertising the sickness and rot in this school.
“Thank you.” Closing my eyes, I settle back in the seat, completely exhausted and still aching. They weren’t exactly gentle with me back there.
“Like I said. I understand. But I would hope any half-decent person would help you if they could.” She lets a few silent moments pass before asking, “Can I drive you home? It doesn’t seem like you’re in any shape to drive yourself.”