Fragile(NOT COMPLETED, UNDER REVISION, PLZ DONT READ RN)

Chapter 7

        He raises an eyebrow at me.

"I-I mean, why are you here? Why are you sitting d-down next to me, and trying to talk to me?"

"I remember trying to get your name," He says slowly sliding closer to me, "Don't think I ever got it though."

"It's Grace." I mumble.

        I scoot back, only to have my back hit the wall and my leg explode into pain. I wince at the feeling.

"Are you okay?"

"I hurt my leg." I answer looking down.

        He was staring at me again. His piercing green eyes were trained on my face, and it makes my skin crawl. Suddenly, he leans up over me, taking both my wrists and holding them up against the wall.

"I know that you-"

"Mr.Hunter, I for one know that that you are terrible at keeping promises, but you really can't stay out of trouble for just one minute, can you?"

        Logan huffs, slowly dropping my wrists as I turn my head to side to see who said that. It turns out to be Mr.Harold, the principal. He crosses his arms over his brown suit, tapping one foot as he glares at us through his glasses.

"What's going on here?" He asks, his voice beaming with authority.

        I turn back to Logan, and he looks at me. He slightly tilts his head to the side, gesturing that he wants me to give an answer.

".... Well?" Mr.Harold asks impatiently.

"I-I hurt my leg, and couldn't make it up the stairs." I answer quietly.

"And just where do you come into this situation Logan?"

"I was running late to class. I found Grace here and was about to take her to the n-"

"Why were you running late?" Mr.Harold interrupts.

"I had to get some stuff from my locker." Logan shoots back.

"Funny, I don't see anything on you. No books, no folders. I suggest you come up with a more reasonable explanation as to why you're not in class at this moment."

"If I had to get a book or folder I would've said it,  fucking idiot." Logan mutters under his breath.

        My eyes widen at the insult. The hallways were uncomfortably silent, and there's no doubt in my mind that Mr.Harold didn't hear that.

"What did you say?" Mr.Harold barks out, taking a few steps closer. "If not, then what were you getting? Cigarettes? Weed? I'm not stupid Logan, and by now I can certainly tell when you're lying."

        I glance at Logan, his posture stiff and his fists clenched. He was silently fuming, like some bomb ready to explode.

"I would wait for another answer, but then it would certainly be a lie that I'm not interested in hearing. Both of you, office. Now."

        My mouth drops open, forming an 'O' shape. Why do I have to go? Logan might have been lying but I wasn't. I grab onto the rail, forcing myself up. The cramp is still there, and it hurts like hell to walk down the stairs. I wince each time my knee bends, until Logan roughly grabs my hand and rushes me down and off the stairs.

        I stand a few feet away from Logan, limping quietly behind Mr.Harold. When we enter his office he gestures for us to sit down on the chairs opposite of him. I sit down as Mr.Harold bends down to open up one of his desk drawers. Pulling out a pad of slips, he then reaches to pull a pen out of the pencil holder and clicks the top.