SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 30.5

CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.

After two challenging hours, Joe loosened his tie and wiped the whiteboard. "Mock exams are in two weeks. You'd be wise to start revising if you haven't already. If you need any extra help, stay behind..." the bell rang jarringly, marking the end of class. Joe collapsed in his chair, rubbing his temples and muttered to himself about how no-one was listening to him anymore.

I pushed my chair under the desk and was about to sling my backpack on my shoulders when Ivy shoved into me, elbow stabbing into my ribs. "Oops!" she tittered. "I'm so clumsy."

I was going to let it go until Rachel barged into me, also, and chortled. "I feel clumsy, too." Her other two friends cackled. Rachel stared at me defiantly, daring me to retaliate, smug smirk on cracked lips. Ivy was out of harm's way, at the door and looking back at the scene, mouth breaking into a crafty grin.

I set my backpack down, clicked my tongue irritably and promptly backhanded her a little too sharply. The blow stopped students in their tracks. Joe looked up, alarmed and then infuriated. "Miss. Canon!" Surnames were reserved for the troublemakers and moments of anger so I knew I was in a deep, stinking pile of shit.

Rachel gasped, hand on her cheek, wide eyed, stunned. "You...you white trash bitch!"

Yolande, a student, remarked coolly. "She's not white."

Ivy let slip a bubble of laughter and then quickly gathered herself, yelling in false outrage. "Did you see that?"

Joe had sprung up from his chair. His face was red as if he'd scrubbed hard and his shoulders were tensed. He pointed a finger at me and exploded. "I've given you far too many chances–"

"That's unfair." Yolande interrupted. Ivy icily glared at her but she continued, unfazed. "Rachel and Ivy hit her first. You only seem to notice when new girl responds."

"Exactly what are you implying?" Joe was struggling to contain his anger. He turned to Yolande with a harsh glower. The class seemed to hold their breath, darting eyes to Joe and then back to Yolande. The insinuation was scandalous and juicy enough for gossip to ruin a career. Joe's career.

"I'm not implying, merely suggesting–"

"You're a liar." Ivy spat.

A boy from the back called out. "Get the fúck out, Ivy. You did hit her first.

"Don't you have a manga comic to jerk off to, Byrson?" Ivy bit out crudely.

Bryson corrected. "It's Hentai, babe."

Voices erupted. Students offered their side of the story and one particular boy shouted for a rematch. Rachel whined on about assault and how I should be arrested and sued for damages to her face. Ivy was snidely announcing to the class about how much of a 'dirty, disgusting whore' Yolande was to which Yolande responded. "Funny. That's exactly what your dad said to me on Saturday night when he was fúcking me in his car. Grey SUV with the busted number plate. Am I right?" It was wild.

"Enough!" Joe roared, spit bursting from his mouth, his face had turned a fascinating shade of dark plum-red. "Ivy, Rachel, Shay, Yolande, Bryson, stay behind. Everyone else – leave!" He hurried and pushed students out and kicked the door shut, walking to sit on the edge of his desk, shirt too tight on his chest. "Sit on the front row. Go on."

He waited until we were seated. I was sat between Yolande and Bryson. Byrson was dark-skinned, with wild unruly black hair. He wore black combat boots and a green check shirt and a white tee. Yolande was unfazed, pursed painted red lips, dyed caramel-blonde afro and she wore a baby pink tee and baby blue jeans. Ivy scoffed softly and murmured how ridiculous it was to make her stay behind.