Bright, unwelcome sunlight was streaming in through my bedroom window when I cracked open a bleary eye. Groaning against the sudden glare, I rolled over to see why my alarm hadn't roused me from my restless sleep when it was supposed to. The answer became evident after several groggy blinks. The screen was blank. Confused, I swiped the little clock from the bedside table, pushing random buttons in an attempt to revive it. Nothing. It was dead. I must have bashed it one too many times in my semiconscious state and accidentally snuffed out its electronic life. Great. I tossed the alarm across my room in agitation, but the dull thump as it hit the carpet near my bedroom door was far from satisfying. With a weary sigh I sat up in bed, rubbing at my sleep heavy eyes and wondering what the time was. I'd gotten home last night - or I should say early this morning, around five expecting my exhaustion to carry me quickly into a dreamless slumber, but sleep had not come easy. Instead I'd picked up where I'd left off in Irvine's - before Tyson had interrupted me and brought with him a temporary reprieve, the ache in my heart at Riley's absence coming to the forefront and overwhelming me with its intensity. I'd sobbed into my pillow until my eyes had run dry and my voice cracked, and until I'd managed to push the ache back, burying it behind a carefully constructed wall where it would stay from then on. Finally drained of tears and mentally exhausted, I'd hunkered down and fallen into a restless sleep, my dreams full of haunting images where all of the people I knew and loved had smiled sadly at me, waving in the distance before they walked away, their bodies becoming smaller and smaller until I could no longer see them. Of course I had run after them screaming, but either they couldn't hear me or didn't want to. And for every step I took, it seemed like the people I was chasing were taking three, and a disembodied ghostly laugh had tormented me, finding great humour in my distress. I shook my head, trying to clear my head of the unwanted images. It was only a dream, I reminded myself sternly. Yes, Riley had gone overseas, but Courtney and Mel were still here. Simply a phone call away.
I let loose a long yawn, briefly toying with the idea of ditching school and staying home, but regrettably had to dismiss the idea when I tallied up the amount of days I'd missed already. The last thing I needed was some nosy school counsellor noticing the sudden rise in my absences from school and coming around to investigate. So instead I dragged myself from the bed and into the bathroom, muttering incoherently about nosy school counsellors out to ruin every teenagers fun. While the hot water from the shower loosened my stiff muscles, it did little to improve my sour mood. It also did little to reduce the puffiness around my eyes. Splashing cold water on my face didn't help either, it just drew out the redness and made it all the more noticeable. Sighing in defeat, I stalked from the bathroom to find something clean to wear, a task that would have been a lot easier had I kept my washing up to date. My bedroom floor was strewn with clothes, some of them clean, some of them having recently belonged to a pile of dirty laundry at the foot of my bed that had somehow dispersed and mingled with all of the clean stuff. After a clothing hunt in which I almost snapped an ankle tripping over a three inch heeled boot that was hiding under a pair of black jeans, I chucked on a pair of denim cut offs and threw on my favourite - and very holey - t-shirt, all the while cursing the stray shoe and the pair of jeans and the hazardous pile of clothing as a whole, like it totally wasn't my fault that my room had become a death trap in the first place. Aggravated as ever, I'd stomped down the stairs and into the living room, snagging one of Riley's jerseys from his room on the way and pulling it over my head. Deciding that a hunt for my ever elusive hair brush would take up too much time and would also mean scouring my potentially deadly bedroom floor, I finger combed my hair and wrapped it into a loose chignon at the base of my neck. My car keys were on the dining table where I'd chucked them earlier, along with the jacket Tyson had let me borrow. I'd tried to give it back to him when we'd said our goodbyes in the parking lot, but he'd just shrugged and told me to get it back to him later. The chilly morning had kept me from arguing, so I'd simply nodded and climbed into my truck without another word, trying to ignore the insane part of my brain that was giddy about the fact I was wearing a boys jacket - a particular boys jacket that smelled heavenly.
I snagged my keys and swung the jacket over my shoulder, then snatched my schoolbag off the hallway cabinet before grudgingly heading to school. I'd made it two blocks from my house when something tugged at my conscience. Something important I'd forgotten to do.
Oh, crap! I did an illegal U-turn at the next intersection and headed back to the house, racing through the front door and into the kitchen. Tank was waiting patiently by his food bowl and his tail waggled happily at the sight of me.
"Right where I left you," I said to the Chihuahua, feeling slightly guilty for forgetting him so easily. I nudged him gently out of the way with the toe of my sneaker before bending over to retrieve the dish. Of course the little critter was faster than I gave him credit for and ran at my face the minute I swooped down. I squawked in surprise, almost knocking him out when I surged upright with flapping arms, his dish held firmly in one hand. The small metal container missed him by less than an inch as it soared past his little head.
"What is wrong with you?" I demanded of the dog, glaring at him like he was an intelligent being capable of conversation. "Do you want to die?"
Tank yapped happily. Whether that was a yes in answer to my question, or just his usual response to someone talking to him, I had no idea. And while I was tempted to go with the first one on that, I had a feeling Riley would not be impressed to learn that I'd killed the dog because I thought it had given me permission to. Hell, as it was, he'd probably give me an earful for almost forgetting to feed him on our first day alone together.
"But I won't tell Riley if you don't," I said to Tank as I scooped out some of his tinned doggy food into his bowl. I screwed my nose up at the stench coming from the can. "It'll be our little secret."
Once he was guzzling down his food, I shut him in the kitchen and tried for a second time to make my way to school.
I got over halfway before another fully formed thought penetrated the foggy haze in my head, and had to readjust my course.
New school regulations implemented at the beginning of this year stated that any students late to school were not permitted to attend classes unless they had a note from a parent or guardian explaining their tardiness. The desired effect was that students would start turning up on time in order to avoid the consequence. Problem was, having the consequence be an entire day off as opposed to missing a few periods was all too appealing for the stoned or thick-in-the-head students who were too stupid to realise missing that many classes meant not graduating. So in trying to lower the stats for lateness, they'd tripled the stats for unexplained absences. Solve one problem, create another.
I pulled into the Azalea Shipping Head Office parking lot, swinging into Riley's reserved car park and almost took out the poor man getting out of his car in the spot next door. In his rush to get the hell out of my way he dropped his briefcase, and clipped his car mirror, just about snapping it off as it bent the wrong way. A bellow of outrage was on the tip of his tongue when he realised who he was about to insult. He clamped his mouth shut, collected his suitcase and scurried off.
Bevan greeted me as I strode past the reception area, prompting me to offer a forced smile and small wave in return. I rode the elevator to Mel's floor, my stomach churning slightly, hyperaware of the fact that it was leaving the ground. As usual, my silent reassurances that I was perfectly safe in a solidly built building that had been standing for decades had no affect, something that served to foul my mood more than it already was.
Mel was sitting at her desk, pouring over a dozen pages spread along her desk, an earpiece protruding slightly from her left ear. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched at my presence but her eyes didn't pause in their scouring of the words in front of them. When she spoke, it wasn't to me but the person rambling in her ear.
"Yes, I'm well aware of that, Mark. But I didn't think you'd need me to hold your hand while you did it."
She paused as Mark responded, scribbling a couple of notes on the page nearest her right hand.
"Mhmm. Then why are you having trouble? It's pretty straightforward. Either they accept the proposition or not. Fine, I'll ring her myself and schedule a time to meet."
With that she hung up, yanking the earpiece from her ear and throwing it down beside her phone.
"Shouldn't you be at school, honey?" she asked me without looking up.
I sighed. "I'm running late. Was on my way there when I remembered I need a note to get into school."
She looked up for the first time, a question about why I was running late on the tip of her tongue when she caught sight of me and closed her mouth. I guess that action alone spoke volumes about the state my physical appearance was in. Despite my shower, I felt far from refreshed, something my puffy red eyes would no doubt attest to. I sniffed and chose to ignore the sympathy in her eyes in favour of studying the doorframe. She knew Riley had left last night and therefore knew the reasons behind my face and less than sunny personality.
Shoving the papers on her desk aside she opened her laptop and began tapping away at the keys.
"Are you going to be home tonight?" she asked as the printer behind her whirred to life, spitting out the note she'd just typed up.
I nodded, stepping forward to take the note from her.
"Good. I'll be over around seven with dinner and a movie."
I looked at her sharply. We both knew how I hated to be pitied. "You don't have to -"
Her sharp tone cut across me. "Like it or hate it, I don't care. I'll see you tonight. Try to have a good day at school," she finished sweetly.
I huffed in annoyance, spinning on me heel to leave, though a small part of me was glad I wouldn't be spending tonight by myself.
"Remember, kick the mean boys in the shins," she called after me.
"And then run," I called back, a reluctant smile making an appearance on my face. "I know."
I shook my head as I made my way back to my truck. It was her expert advice after the whole Aidan incident. Well, okay, it was really her backup. Her first piece of advice hadn't actually come in the form of words but rather in the form of pepper spray. She'd tried diligently to get me to put it in my bag. Where she'd even procured the stuff from I didn't want to know, considering it was illegal in our state. So after refusing profusely, she'd had to fall back on the words she'd just yelled at me. I didn't know whether going from potentially blinding someone to potentially crippling them was an improvement or not, but I did think I'd have an easier time explaining steel capped shoes than I would have explaining the illegal substance I was carrying. I checked the clock on the dash of my truck as I got in and groaned in misery. Looked like I'd be making it just in time for my favourite subject.
Mr. Phelps stopped mid sentence when I opened the door to his classroom half an hour into the period. Surprise flitted across his face a split second before it settled into a sneer I was fast becoming accustomed to. It was the 'I'm going to enjoy harassing Noah Duke' sneer, and as I stared at him, I wondered how long he was going to exact retribution on my ass for the ill placed but entirely honest remarks I'd thrown at him some weeks ago. Most likely until graduation if the eager glint in his eye was anything to go by.
Quick! You can still make a run for it, my mind screamed at me. Instead of obeying as any smart person would have, I stepped into the room.
"How nice of you to grace us with your presence, Miss Duke," Mr. Phelps said, leaning back against his desk casually.
I cringed inwardly as twenty five pairs of eyes honed in on me, waiting for my next move. It was no secret that in this class I was the sacrificial lamb, so to speak. The metaphoric punching bag that Mr. Phelps took all of his frustrations out on, whether they were directly related to me or not. And most were not, despite the verbal jousting we'd done in the past.
Forcing a smile, I sidled further into the room, claiming the empty seat nearest the door. No need to tempt the beast in any way. After all, I was pretty sure such a man needed no tempting to start an onslaught of subtle digs and jibes. Just enough to ruffle my feathers, but not enough to cause great suspicion that what he was doing was a prime example of unprofessional conduct. Heck, he was so good at it that even I wondered if he was abusing his position of authority, or well within his rights to say what he did.
"That you managed to find time in your obviously busy and important schedule to make an appearance in my mundane class just warms me to no end," he continued, laying on the sarcasm nice and thick. He shoved the sleeve of his white button down shirt further up his arm, the stiff material bunching at his elbow.
I gritted my teeth, clenching them together so hard my jaw ached in protest. I was not going to react, because that's exactly what he wanted. An excuse to swoop in for the kill. Or at least to swoop in and land me in detention. My eyes darted sideways in search of the clock, and some of the tightly strung tension in my body began to ease. All I had to do was survive the next twenty minutes and then I'd be out of here - without incident. Besides, how long could he focus his attention on me if I didn't respond in any way? Eventually he'd get bored and move on.
"You're late Miss Duke," Mr. Phelps said loudly, like maybe by some miracle I hadn't heard his previous snide comments.
So much for him getting bored and moving on. His voice grated on my nerves, and my sullen mood worsened considerably when he stalked over to my desk to hover over me ominously. Jeez, whatever happened to the three foot personal space bubble? Obviously it went out the window with civility and common courtesy.
"Oh, and your notebook isn't out," he chided, tsking at me like I was a petulant child.
Well, duh, that's because I'd only just parked my butt in the chair. What did he expect, enough multitasking to ensure that I had all of the notes from today's lecture copied into my book, a heartfelt apology for my tardiness, the assigned chapters read, and a start on the next days assigned reading complete all before my rump connected with the seat? If so, that was just too damn bad. A girl - this girl - could only do so much at once, and in my sleep deprived state he was lucky that I was sitting upright with my eyes open at the same time, and that I was stringing together coherent thoughts while having enough sense to bite back the desire to spit the nasty ones out at him. How was that for multitasking?
I fumbled with my bag without saying a word and produced my torn and tattered notebook, slapping it onto the desk in front of me. I spared a glance at him, offering him an "are you happy now?" look.
To my chagrin, he tsked again, the malevolent glint still in his eyes.
"And no pens, I see."
God, really? Nothing gets by you, does it? I thought sarcastically. But again, self preservation won out and I refrained from saying such things out loud.
"My, how do you make it through the school day without your writing instruments, Miss Duke?" he said, again in that chiding tone. It was that tone more than anything else that had me ready to explode. I hated being talked down to even more than I hated pity. Especially by someone as petty as a teacher who got his kicks out of taunting a student who had more than two brain cells to rub together, which was more than I could say about him.
"Wow, I'm utterly amazed at how astute you are, Mr. Phelps. Tell me, do they give out degrees for that kind of intelligence alone? Because you're seriously just blowing me away with your demonstration of stating the obvious."
A series of shocked gasps coming from my fellow peers shot around the room, creating a disturbing echo.
Oh. My. God. I froze in my seat, no doubt a horrified expression plastered on my face. Had I just said that out loud? Christ, by the look on my teacher's face - a face that was turning an unflattering shade of puce in record time - I'd say the answer would be yes. Break out that shovel Noah, I thought as I watched his face morph even further, turning a shade of purple I'd never before seen on a human being. Because another grave digging was in order. And I didn't think I'd be digging my way out of this one.
I was vaguely aware of the unnatural silence emanating from the room, the void being broken only by Janie's pen clattering to the floor, her suddenly slack fingers having lost their grip, but my attention was riveted to the terrifying sight in front of me. An angry fire flashed in Mr. Phelps's eyes, his nostrils flared, and it was all I could do not to cringe under his murderous gaze. He drew in a deep breath, and I braced myself for the bellowing that would come next. But to my surprise, he let the breath out slowly, the steady exhale taking with it some of the purple tinge of his skin.
"See me after class, Miss Duke," he said, voice low and barely more than a whisper. "And have your notebook ready to be reviewed."
I blinked as he stalked away from me, taking up position in front of his desk once more, carrying on with his lecture like there had been no interruption. Then dread set in as I realised what he'd just said. After class. God, he was going to yell at me in private. And anything he said behind closed doors was bound to be ten times worse than the things he could say in front of witnesses.
The rest of the class passed painfully slowly, with people sneaking sideways glances at me every now in much the same way one would look at a mentally unstable person. I ignored them, and when the bell finally rang stayed seated.
Mr. Phelps took a seat behind his desk and motioned me to join him by flicking a finger at me. Forcing a blank expression I clambered to my feet and shuffled over.
"Your book."
He snatched it from my hand and flicked through it rapidly. "Why is it blank?" he asked, dropping it to the table and penning me with a hard stare.
It took all of my willpower not to squirm under his gaze. "You told me not to copy anything that wasn't taught in this classroom," I said truthfully.
His eye twitched. "That doesn't explain why the book is blank, unless your eyesight is impaired and you therefore cannot see the board."
"My eyesight is fine, thank you very much," I said, unable to keep the curt tone from leaking into my voice.
"Then for Gods sake! What's the problem with you? Is your head so thick it stops you from absorbing any information?"
I bristled at the uncalled for comment, reckless anger overriding any fear I had of this idiot's wrath.
"Says the man who obviously didn't listen when I told him I wouldn't copy down incorrect information. Being a teacher doesn't automatically mean everything that comes out of your mouth is correct," I said, clenching my fists at my side. Pig-headed and pompous didn't even begin to describe the arrogant jerk sitting in front of me. And by now, I was too pissed to care about what came out of my mouth. Consequences be damned, he needed a good serving of humble pie.
"That's it!" he bellowed, slamming his fist down onto the desk so hard his pens rattled. "Detention! After school. I will not put up with such insolence. It's about time you learnt some manners, and some respect for your superiors."
Superior, my ass. But I chose to stay silent.
"What, nothing else to say?" He smirked at me. He actually smirked!
"Can I go now?" I ground out, not taking the bait he was so obviously dangling in front of me.
"Yes, you'd better. Get out of my sight, and take this with you."
He threw my book off his desk. It skidded over to the open doorway. I bit back a growl and turned on my heel, storming out without stopping to pick it up. He could get it himself. I'd rather have him throw it away than give him the satisfaction of seeing me retrieve it from where he'd thrown it.
"Your book!" he bellowed at my retreating back, but I just thrust my nose in the air defiantly and kept walking.
Courtney sent me a text telling me she was heading outside to Drew's car for lunch. I sighed as I read the message, pulling Tyson's jacket out of my locker, then slamming it shut. I'd find him and give it back, then head out to see Courtney. I didn't care if Drew was there or not. I needed my best friend to talk some sense into me before I became irate and went back to give Mr. Phelps a piece of my mind. On the way to the caf I ducked into the girls room to see if my eyes had returned to normal. The cheap mirrors stuck to the wall above the basins were streaked with some greasy substance, so I took care not to get too close. The white tiled floor was also littered with loose scraps of toilet paper, some globs trying and failing to soak up the unidentified liquid on the ground they had fallen in. Screwing up my nose at the sight as well as the putrid smell of urine combined with stale air, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and was relieved to see a pair of normal hazel eyes staring back at me. Though in my anger, the green was more dominant than the brown swirling in them. Small blessings, I told myself, running a finger under the now smooth skin. I washed my hands, not because I had touched anything but simply because I felt dirty just being in there, then turned to leave.
"Jesus Christ!" I cried in dismay as the door opened and Serena sauntered in with two of her blonde bimbos - er, I mean "friends" in tow.
"No," she said, a sneer dominating her normally pinched face. "Not Jesus. But I can arrange a meeting." Was that a death threat?
I snorted derisively. "I'm sorry," I said scathingly, my crappy day giving me a sharper tongue than usual. "But it's such a startling resemblance, what with the whole facial hair thing you've got going on." I rubbed my chin suggestively as I said it, like one would stroke a beard. "Add your manly shoulders and your giant thighs to the mix and I swear you could pass for a man."
Oh no, would I never learn to keep my mouth shut?
Serena's friends lived up to their hair colour, mouths floundering open and shut with nothing but air escaping. They glanced at each other, then at an enraged Serna for instructions. Serena herself stalked towards me and without warning shoved me. I staggered backwards, at the last second twisting so I didn't touch the grimy wall. In all honesty I was more worried about catching some incurable disease than getting the stuffing pounded out of me by Malibu Barbie here.
"What the crap?" I exclaimed, brushing imaginary germs off my shoulder. "Since when do you resort to physical violence?"
Snapping out of her volatile rage, she composed herself, taking in deep breaths while smoothing out her blonde hair and pink tank top.
"You're right," she said, more to herself than me. Great, I chastised myself. Now you're giving the girl advice? Why not just ask her which toilet she wants to dunk your head in and go over to stand at the ready?
"I don't need to hit you to hurt you," she sneered, folding her arms over her ample chest. "I have other means at my disposal."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but nothing could have stopped the words that came out of my mouth. Forget investing in a filter to monitor my brain-to-mouth activities, I just needed a sealer to shut it for good.
"Yes, yes. I've heard it all before," I snapped, wondering where my self preservation had gone. I seemed to have jumped out of Mr. Phelps's frying pan and right into Serena's fire. But try as I might, my mouth had taken on a mind of its own. Too bad it couldn't die by itself. "Same speech as when I accidentally," I emphasised the last word, "cut your hair in third grade. God forbid the Queen of Grudges get over it already and grow up." Her eyes widened at my bold words. And rightly so. I'd never stood up to her before, simply just taken whatever she dished out and moved on. But I was tired. So tired. Of being picked on, ridiculed, walked over, when I did nothing to deserve it. I was also overtired, which was probably the bigger part of why I was acting without proper conscious thought. So for right now at least, I wasn't going to lay down and take it. God have mercy on whoever got in my way today, because Hell hath no fury like Noah Duke suffering from sleep deprivation.
"And since I'm not about to beg for your forgiveness and compassion," I continued, taking advantage of her dumbfounded state. "Lets just forgo your intimidation act and call it a day."
With a confidence that belied the shaking in my knees, I strode past her, repositioning Tyson's jacket as I did so. Unfortunately I must have been wearing some sign everyone but me could see. "Pick on me, it'll make my day!" or something similar, because Barbie's helpers decided to block the only exit. I bit back a groan, clenching my hand in the soft material of the jacket.
"You and I are just getting started, Noah." She drew my name out like it was some disgusting object she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. I stopped, not bothering to turn around to face her. If I did, the sight of her face might provoke me into hitting it. And while I'd made enough progress in my self confidence to talk back, I wasn't a complete idiot about to write myself off. Sure, my tongue lashing would have repercussions, but they'd be nothing compared to what would happen if I actually hit the girl.
"I'd like you to do something for me," she said in a conversational tone.
I snorted again, this time in disbelief. "And why would I do you a favour? In case you haven't noticed, you're not on my list of favourite people."
Her eyes flashed in fury. "Remember who you're talking to, skank!" she shouted, the sound reverberating around the small room. "You think what I do now is bad? It can get a whole lot worse if I wanted it to. I have the connections and the loyalty -" Bought loyalty, no less, I thought bitterly. "- to make your life at school a living Hell."
"Funny," I said quietly. "I thought you already did that."
She laughed without humour. "Oh, you haven't seen nothing yet."
"What do you want from me?" I asked, tone flat. Less than a year, I told myself. Less than a year and I'd be out of this place. Out into the real world where all of the Serena's fizzled and died, washing out of community college to become waitresses or check out operators at Minimart. I clung to that belief as I strove to remain calm.
"I want you to stay away from Tyson."
I arched an eyebrow at that, sunned by her request. "Excuse me?"
"Stay away from him. He's way out of your league anyway. A guy like him doesn't give two shits about a loser like you."
"If you're so certain of that, then why the need to warn me off him?"
She shrugged indifferently. "He may not give two shits, but he's not above feeling sorry for you. Probably the only reason he talks to you any more than absolutely necessary. But with you out of the picture and me able to catch his eye, all that'll change. I'll teach him who his real friends are and who he should be paying attention to."
I stared at her incredulously, wondering if she was serious. She talked about him as if he were a pet she could train. I hesitated with my answer. On the one hand, I could agree and avoid ten months or so of retaliation. On the other hand, I was way too stubborn to jump on command. Especially when the order came from someone like Serena.
"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that," I said slowly, clearly. "Not unless Tyson asks me himself to leave him alone."
Then I tensed, expecting screaming and maybe some more pushing, but to my surprise, silence settled, stretching to the point of awkwardness.
"Well, that's a shame," she finally said quietly, bumping my shoulder as she walked past me. "I really thought we could come to an understanding."
Meaning I'd just bought myself an upgrade in the degree of harassment I'd been receiving.
"Come find me when you change your mind," she said before the three girls left.
A bitter feeling burned in the pit of my stomach. Why did this stuff keep happening to me? I must have been an axe murderer in a past life to deserve the treatment I was getting. Driven out of the bathroom by the disgusting stench, I walked directly across from it and spun so my back was facing a random locker. Without meaning to, I slid until I was sitting at the bottom of it. A few students gave me odd looks, prompting me to throw Tyson's jacket over my head, enveloping me in darkness. Big as it was, it just about covered my entire body, and I huddled my legs closer, wrapping my arms around my knees. I needed a moment to myself. Time to breathe; clear my head of all the bitter thoughts swarming it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but it did little to ease the frustration in me. Still, I took another, and another, until the air trapped between me and the jumper grew warm with carbon dioxide.
I felt the jacket being tugged from my head and snapped my eyes open to pin a murderous glare on whoever was interrupting my meditation.
A pair of bright blue eyes were staring back at me, a curious air about them. My heart fluttered, always excited by his presence, and the butterflies in my stomach quickly joined the staccato.
"How do you do that?" I asked Tyson, trying to snatch the jacket back to cover myself again. I was not ready to face the world, let alone the annoyingly sexy boy that seemed to stumble across me at my worst.
"Do what?" he asked, pulling it further down so it slid onto the tops of my knees.
"Appear when I'm trying my hardest to go unnoticed. What, do you have some kind of sixth sense when it comes to damsels in distress?"
He scoffed at me, amusement glittering in his eyes. "If you paid any attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed that I was four lockers down, talking to a guy from my chem class. I just happened to see Serena come out of the bathroom shortly before you did."
I sighed, tugging experimentally on the jacket we were both holding. He let it slip through his fingers and I took advantage, pulling it up to my chin.
"So?" I asked.
"So what?" he said back, perplexed.
"So, let me have it."
He huffed in annoyance. "At least give me a proper sentence. What am I supposed to be letting you have?"
"The speech. About letting Serena walk all over me. Seriously, I'm listening. I can take it. Do your worst."
He made a sound of exasperation, shaking his head. "Seems like somebody already has done their worst."
"No, no, go ahead. Put the icing on the cake. Make my day complete. I've already gotten a detention from some idiot teacher. Serena has decided her methods of harassment aren't doing their job well enough. And now, nothing would please me more than to get a lecture from Tyson Masters, the boy who can't do anything wrong."
He arched an eyebrow at my catty tone. "Don't get shitty at me because you refuse to stand up for yourself," he snapped back. He tugged at his jacket again, obviously in an effort to annoy me further. It worked.
I snatched it back, pulling it until it was balled up against my chest. "Why do you think I got a detention? Why do you think I've suddenly become Serena's number one project?"
"Because people just love your sunny personality?" he asked, back to being amused. Quicker than I could blink he whipped a hand out and snagged the end of the jacket, ripping it out of my arms altogether.
"You're not funny," I huffed. He sighed heavily, moving from his crouched position to sit in front of me. Rather than cross his legs, he spread them out in a V so that I was sitting in the gap, knees bent slightly with his arms resting on top of them. This put his face a mere foot from my own and my cheeks burned at his close proximity. My eyes darted around of their own accord, taking in the way the material of his shirt tightened over his broad shoulders, and the way his jeans hugged his strong legs. That, combined with his closeness was almost enough to make me forget my bitterness at the world in general.
"So what happened?" he asked, staring at me intently.
I looked away, folding my arms across my knees. "Nothing. Serena just cornered me in the bathroom, that's all. Said some things and then left."
"And you didn't think to tell her where to get off?" he asked incredulously. He threw his jacket back at me, the bundle hitting me in the face before falling to land on top of my arms.
"What makes you think I didn't? I could have told her where to get off."
"Could have," he said smirking. "What I don't understand, is how you had no trouble picking a fight with Aidan, yet you can't take on some tiny blonde whose only asset is her ear splitting scream."
"Aidan and Serena are two entirely different matters," I said, placing my chin on top of his jacket.
"Oh, I know," he agreed. "One is the same gender as you and has probably never been in a fight in her life, the other a hulking male intent on pulverising you out of some misplaced desire for revenge."
I gave him a peeved glare. "Size is irrelevant. And I told you, I didn't know Aidan would go off like that. Yeah, I thought he would get angry, but I wasn't expecting him to beat me."
Tyson's expression changed, becoming one of intense fury at my words before he masked it with bored indifference. Wow, was he still hung up over what Aidan had done?
"Why is size irrelevant?" he asked, picking at a small hole in his jeans. "Serena's what, two, three inches taller than you? A few pounds heavier? You're telling me you can't come out on top?"
I arched my eyebrows at the way he put it, deciding to throw his own logic back at him.
"And you? You're what, three, four inches taller than Aidan? A few pounds heavier? So remind me, who won that fight?"
Tyson narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "That's hardly the same thing."
"But it is. The odds weren't in his favour for a reason. The bigger people have the upper hand."
"Okay, fine," he conceded. "So what are you going to do? Just let her get her way while you sulk?"
I snapped my head up in indignation. "I do not sulk!"
"I'm sorry, would you prefer another term? Pouting? Brooding? Grousing?"
I threw his jacket back at him, for lack of anything heavier to throw. It hit him in the chest before coming to rest between his legs. "And you would know every variation, wouldn't you? Seeing as you're so practiced in the art of being pissy."
Tyson laughed. I gaped at him, stunned into silence as I watched his face transform. Dimples formed on either side of his mouth as it bloomed into the first full smile I'd ever seen. The sound of his laughter was low and throaty, rumbling from his chest. He sobered quickly at the look on my face. "What?"
I shook my head slightly, still in awe. "I've never seen you laugh before. I didn't think you knew how."
He gave me a droll stare. "I know how to laugh. Just because I don't feel the need to laugh at every little thing some idiot says doesn't mean I'm incapable of doing so."
"Are you calling me an idiot?"
He groaned, shifting his legs so that they brushed mine. I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, my heart sputtering and heat blooming where our legs touched.
"You know what I mean, wiseass."
Tyson shifted again, this time rising gracefully to stand over me. He held out a hand for me, and little bolts of electricity shot up my arm as I slipped my hand into his and he hauled me to my feet.
"Going to the caf?" he asked, stooping to pick up his jacket. He threw it over my shoulders as we headed down the corridor, even though I was already wearing a jersey. The fact that it was almost transparently thin from wear and tear was beside the point, not that it stopped me from pulling my arms through the sleeves and drawing it tightly around me.
I shook my head. "Courtney's in the parking lot, so I'm heading there."
"Right."
"She asked me to stay away from you. Serena, I mean." I didn't look at him as I said it, instead focusing on the glass doors some thirty feet ahead of me.
"And what did you tell her?" he asked, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket to fidget with.
I gave him a droll stare. "Why do you think she's out for my blood? I told her that it was your call to make, not mine."
He cracked one of his half smiles, but kept his eyes trained on his fidgeting hands. We came to the intersection in the halls, the cafeteria to the left and the parking lot straight ahead, and I turned to face him awkwardly. He seemed unperturbed by the loaded silence, pocketing his smokes before giving me a questioning stare.
"Your jacket," I blurted to break the silence, sliding it from my shoulders, but Tyson reached out to stop me. Pushing my hands away he pulled it back up so it was sitting properly, his hands gripping it just below the neckline. My breath caught in my throat at how close he was. We were suddenly separated by less than two feet, something my ever malfunctioning heart found truly delightful. His delicious scent wafted all around me, making my stomach quiver.
"Hold onto it for me," he murmured, and brushed his thumbs gently across my cheeks.
"Hunh," I replied oh so intelligently, my skin burning from his brief touch. Amusement glittered in his eyes as he let go and stepped back.
"I'll see you last period," he said and walked down the hallway while I stood in the middle of the hall like an idiot.
It took me several moments to remember how to walk and a few more to remember that I was supposed to be meeting Courtney in the parking lot.