Chapter 21
I haven't been this happy in a long, long time. And I owe it all to Peter.
I wasn't myself with Mason. I was pretending for two whole years, and he didn't even notice. My smile was fading as the months went on, but he didn't even care.
In a time of darkness and sadness, Peter was my light. He still is my light. He makes me smile and laugh harder than I've laughed before. I'm in a state of bliss when I'm with him.
I'm the luckiest person in the world to have him care about me, to be falling in love with me.
I have him, and he has me.
"Hey, Pete. My mom wants to have dinner with you tonight and-"
"I can't," he says quickly, keeping his head in his locker.
My eyebrows scrunch together. "Is everything okay?"
He shuts his locker, looking at me with a flat face. His eye is all black and blue, his lip split. "Just perfect."
I touch the side of his face gently. "Pete, who did this to you?"
"Does it really matter, Grace?" He huffs and starts walking down the hallway at a quick pace.
I run to catch up to him, tugging on his hand. "Hey, let me help you. Who did this to you?"
"You can't help me." He shuts his eyes momentarily. "There's nothing you can do to change this, okay? Just leave me alone."
I'm taken aback by his sudden harshness. He pulls his hood over his head before walking out of the school.
I'm unable to follow him, confused as to what just happened. My confusion quickly turns to anger.
Who would hurt him like that? They weren't going to get away with it.
With my head tilted high, I move quickly down the hallway in search of my number one suspect.
I see him, standing at his locker with a sea of girls touching his biceps. Gross.
"Quentin, you better fucking run," I seethe, slamming his locker shut.
The football player looks me up and down, a smirk on his face. "Who ate your Frosted Flakes this morning?"
"Shut up, you jackass. I thought you got suspended for picking on Peter already. Why keep it up, huh?"
He squints his eyes. "I don't know a Peter?"
I roll my eyes at his ignorance. "He's the amazingly caring boy who you beat up this morning."
"Sorry to break it to you, Lambert, but I didn't beat up any kids this morning."
I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I don't believe you. Plus, even if it wasn't you, it was one of your stupid friends. And since you guys know each other's every move, you know who it was."
"Wait, are you talking about Flash?"
"Peter, yes."
"Then I saw that," he says, recalling his morning. "Poor kid."
"Quentin, who was it?"
"It was Flash, or Peter...whatever."
It's like talking to a wall. "I meant who was bullying Peter?"
"Oh. Duh. Um, I couldn't really see his face. Looked like Greg Shepard. You know him? Tall, redhead."
I didn't know him, but that wouldn't change the fact I'd confront him. Confront, more like slap the hell out of him.
