Cold Coffee and Stale Cigarettes *on hold*

Chapter 11

                My eyes dart back to his face, which is now openly turned towards me. He’s noticed me staring and a smirk is hooked on his thin lips.

                “Nice shirt.”  I mutter as he passes me, air stirring between us. I keep walking even though he shouts something after me along the lines of an overconfident “I know.” There was no need to double check.

Something wraps around my bicep, tugging me to the side of the hall. Mia is there, eyes narrowed, artificially tanned skin dark against the pale lockers. Ice freezes her eyes, which are a murky green, and a frown mars her brow. She’s pretty, in a simple way. Her nose is buttoned and her large eyes are set evenly between her ears. Simple. I wait for her to speak but all she does is drag her eyes over my face as if she’s searching for something.

                “Gabe said you flipped over pot.” The length of my spin stiffens. The thoughts in my mind go numb.

                “Ok?” If you act like you don’t care, they can’t use it against you.

                “Are you some sort of anti-weed freak? You aren’t going to bust him, are you?”

                “Uhm, no?” The voice exiting my mouth is too shrill. I can feel her plastic nails digging into my sweater. “It’s none of my fucking business what he does in his free time.” The answer doesn’t appease her. My skin is pinched beneath her claws. “Let go.” I insist after a moment, lightly testing my ability to pull away. Instead, her nails pierce deeper and she jerks me closer even though I barely moved.

                “Not so confident now, are you?” The hiss escapes her lips menacingly and unease coils through my stomach. Her icey eyes were daggers and I meet them head on, unflinchingly. People didn’t scare me the way the used to.

                “I don’t care if other people smoke. I personally don’t care for it. Fuck. Off.” Mia is smirking now, cool and venomous. Can she read the fear in my eyes?

                “You’re a coward.” The simple words slice through my skin worse than her steel nails and the air grows thick. Yes. I am a coward. You caught me. I pull back my elbow, acting as if I’m going to draw away and her own arm retracts, jerking me back in her direction. I use the force to slam her against the locker. Several people stop, mouths gaping to see what happened. I don’t scream. There’s a fire in my chest but I do not scream. I can’t feel her nails in my arm anymore.

                “Don’t. Touch. Me.” It’s hard not to spit in her stupid, pinched face. One hand is gripping her shoulder and I can feel hatred stewing in the air between us. Her eyes flicker to something and I follow, seeing Dalton watching our confrontation. He does not come to my defense. He does not save me. He doesn’t say a word. How long had he been watching?

                Sighing to myself, I turn to Mia, waiting for her to push me back, waiting for the sound of her clawed fist colliding with my cheekbone. There is no victorious last words. We watch each other for a moment, hard eyes and grim lips. Mia looks away first. I don’t challenge her further or acknowledge Dalton, whose gaze is setting my skin on fire. There is no point.

                I head to my next class.

xxx

                There are crescent marks on my arm when I get home after school. They sting, so I rub some soap on them to make them sting more, because that’s the only way I could process the confrontation. There was something more to it. She wasn’t angry over the weed. That was an excuse. She wanted to know what had happened. She wanted to know why it happened. She wanted to know if I could be trusted. She wanted to know something else. My fuzzy brain couldn’t come up with an idea.