3 7
Long Time Coming
The heat from the sun shining down on us has my thighs feeling like they're on fire. Arlin Preparatory's thick sweatpants aren't helping.
"I just want to rip these pants off," I say in annoyance.
"Same." I look over my shoulder, finding Jalen with a smirk. "What? I agree with you. I want to rip them off, too."
I roll my eyes, but there's no fighting off the smile making its way to my face. "You're annoying."
Jalen nods. "Yeah. I agree again."
He laughs, and so do I. He then reaches for the front of my baggy gym shirt, pulling me closer and placing a kiss on my forehead. His lips move to my nose, my cheek, and finally to my lips.
I bring my hands to his hair, running my fingers through the softness. Just as his hand moves higher up my thigh, a whistle is blown in the distance. We ignore the sound until it comes a second time, and is much closer.
We break away to find the gym teacher standing at the bottom of the bleachers.
"This isn't a hotel room, Uccello," the gym teacher grinds out. "Keep your hands to yourself."
Jalen scowls at her, then turns back to me, angry look replaced with that same easy smile from before. "She's just jealous."
I purse my lips. "You're telling me all the teachers here want you, too?"
He chuckles, shaking his head. "She's jealous of me," he corrects.
"Oh," I comment, eyes going back to the teacher. "That makes sense. I'm fucking hot."
Jalen smirks, pulling my legs closer, resulting in one being thrown over his lap. "Hell yeah you are."
Before we can kiss again, that same obnoxious whistle goes off. This time, however, it's directed at someone else. I realize it's from the other side of the field, not related to our gym class at all. There's a group of girls with a coach directing them and pom poms in hand.
Cheerleaders. This must be their practice time during school hours, and since this is the first gym class I've had the pleasure of having outside at Arlin Preparatory, I'm just now realizing we have to share the field.
But cheerleaders means Cortney's there, seeing as she's the head of it all. I move my gaze away, knowing I don't need to see that.
Just as I turn away, though, I spot someone walking over. The whistle must've signified a quick break, as the girls separate to grab waters or sit. Not Cortney, though. She looks to the figure approaching her, and it's none other than Rachel.
What the fuck could those two have to talk about?
I finally turn away. I definitely don't need to deal with all of that. They're not my concern—never should have been or will be.
"Wanna do my homework for me?"
Jalen's reaching into his bag for his math textbook. I'd honestly rather not, but if doing some work will keep my mind from worrying about things that don't involve me, then I'll do it.
"I will help you," I correct him while reaching for the book.
"Um," Jalen calls out, grabbing his notebook. "My idea is better."
I shake my head and snatch the notebook from him. "I'll start it off and explain, but you need to do at least half on your own."
Jalen sighs. "Can I get some motivation?"
"How about passing your class and graduating in June?"
"Nah, I need something better..." he trails off, smirk returning at the end.
I know what's coming next, so I'm not even surprised when he pulls me closer and kisses me once more.
I'm pulling away seconds later. "Come on," I drawl out. "Let's do some of this before the period ends."
He reluctantly agrees, but refuses to remove his hand from around my waist, which proves to be challenging as it's his left hand—meaning he's attempting to write with the other. Jalen's handwriting looks like shit on the regular, but it's somehow gotten worse now that he's using his right hand.
"Trash," I call out when he finishes writing the standard Arlin Preparatory heading.
"Suck my dick," he quickly responds.
"Is that supposed to be the motivation?"
Jalen looks at me with a serious look. "The motivation is graduating in June, Lyndon. Stop making everything so sexual."
I scoff, then lightly shove him. Yeah, right, as if I'm the one who sexualizes everything! His boisterous laugh floods the air seconds later.
As beautiful as the sound is, I feel my stomach fill with dread as my words, and him repeating them, sink in.
I'm graduating in June, that's for sure. And with the progress Jalen's making, he will too.
Where do we go after that?
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"I really think you're just overreacting..." Daniel's calm and collected voice trails off as he finishes the sentence.
I'm sure the unbelieving and annoyed look on my face is what gets him to stop talking.
"Overreacting?" I repeat, spitting the word out. "How am I overreacting, Daniel? I mean, honestly, tell me the chances of Jalen and I making our relationship work if we're not together."
"Well, you'll technically be together if you don't break up, Lyndon. You don't have to see each other everyday at school to make it work."
Daniel's easy smile dims at the end, and he quickly takes a sip of his milkshake. I keep looking at him until I catch his gaze, and once we lock eyes, I see the doubt in his.
"Even you know that's bullshit," I argue. "We barely make it work when we see each other almost everyday."
He takes another sip, most likely to fill the silence between us as he clearly can't think of a rebuttal. He knows firsthand how messy our relationship can get.
"We're doomed," I say dramatically, leaning all of my weight onto my locker. "I can't believe that graduating and leaving this place is what's going to be the end of us!"
I hear the clear whine in my voice, and maybe I am overreacting just a tad, but who could blame me? After all the shit Jalen and I have gone through to make this relationship work, to bring us to the great place we're in now, leaving Arlin Preparatory will be what ends us?
I don't want to think negatively, but ever since three days ago when Jalen and I talked, and graduation briefly came up, that's all that's been on my mind.
"Lyndon," Daniel calls out with a sigh, before placing his milkshake onto the shelf of his open locker. He reaches for my hands, and I momentarily pull back at how cold his are from his drink, before allowing him to pull me closer and interlock our fingers. "You need to stop worrying about it. Stop stressing over things you cannot control."
"But—"
"Shh." He gently shushes me, lightly squeezing my fingers. "You and Jalen are crazy about each other. I'm talking might need some straitjackets crazy, okay? I honestly can't see not going to the same schools being a problem. I certainly can't see Jalen caring."
"You think he won't care that we're not at the same school? Oh my god," I say, removing one of my hands from his hold to bring it to my chest. "He probably hasn't even thought about it at all! As in, he's not thinking of a future with me!"
"Woah," Daniel calls out, grabbing my free hand and holding it tightly once more. "What I meant was that I can't see Jalen sitting around thinking about it because he knows, realistically, it's not a possibility."
My stomach drops. "Being with me in the future isn't a possibility...?"
Daniel's eyes widen. "No. God, no. That is not what I meant."
As Daniel rapidly shakes his head, no doubt feeling guilty for—indirectly—putting the thought out there, I start to ponder it. Even if that's not what Daniel meant, and even if Jalen is picturing some sort of future with me, will we ever really have one? Will we ever have the chance at one?
His engagement to Cortney, well, his impending engagement, hasn't gone away. It's still very real and present.
"I mean... well, you're a very smart girl, Lyndon. We filled out our applications together. We have a lot of the same choices. You know... all Ivy League's and prestigious universities," he says slowly. He eyes me, nodding his head as if waiting for me to put the pieces together myself, but my mind's still too wrapped up in Jalen's attachment to Cortney to process anything else. "Those aren't the kind of schools that Jalen would think of applying too."
It goes silent again, and I feel my stomach dropping once more as his words settle in. Jalen and I definitely didn't apply to the same colleges. I don't need to see his sheet to know that.
"I'm not trying to be offensive or anything," Daniel quickly defends when I stay quiet. "I love Jalen, he's family. But school... and grade wise... it's not happening. I don't know if he even has any plans to—"
"What's with the hand holding?" Noah's loud voice asks as he approaches us from down the hall. "You doing a mini prayer service or something?"
"Actually, I might need one for my physics test later," I say.
Daniel laughs, dropping my hands and reaching for his milkshake. "Same. Well, not actually the same. I need prayers to pass my pre-calc test."
"Oh no," I groan. "I took mine yesterday. I almost cried."
Daniel leans against his locker, taking a bigger sip of his drink and then pouting. "Damn it. I need at least an eighty on this test to maintain my average."
"My average is gonna be so fucked after this test," I tell him, leaning against the locker too.
"Blah blah blah," Noah cuts us off. "Must really suck to be two of the smartest assholes at this school, worrying about getting a perfect average."
I shove him roughly, and he retaliates by shoving me back. Just as Daniel places his milkshake down—most likely to try stopping us—and as I take a step forward, ready to go full Donkey Kong on Noah's ass, I hear gasps from down the hall.
The three of us immediately turn that way—such whores for drama, especially when it doesn't involve us.
But any thoughts of not being involved leave my mind once I glance at the lockers surrounding us. I guess I had been so caught up in complaining to Daniel, and he'd been so caught up listening, that we hadn't turned the other way and saw it.
There's tons of papers taped to the lockers lining the whole right side of the hallway, and every student standing by them and reading quickly glance around and look to me, then to Noah.
I feel my palms growing sweaty at my sides, feeling in my gut that I'm involved in this somehow. Why else would everyone look at me and my brother?
Almost at the same time, Noah and I charge that way, and the second we reach the first locker with paper taped to it, we stop to read.
Just by quickly glancing I can tell it's an official record posted. I've never been arrested or, hell, to court for anything in my life, and neither has Noah—surprisingly—so right away I know this isn't about us.
But it could be about Jalen. Vague rumors about his troublesome ways come back to me.
Is this his rap sheet or something? Has he been charged with something serious?
"What the fuck..." Noah calls out, voice trailing off as his hand reaches up for the paper. He rips it off and holds it closer, rereading it before throwing it to the ground and looking around the hall. "Who the hell did this?"
He seems angry, too angry for this to not be about me. Or anyone else from our family.
That makes my heart beat faster. I reach down for the paper he threw, and just as I begin reading, I hear heels clicking down the hall. I feel Noah moving away from me in that direction. Then I hear Jalen's angry voice demanding to know what's going on.
But I block it all out as I realize this paper is a copy of a restraining order. A quick glance around shows me they're all copies of the same restraining order.
"Jafari? I thought she legally changed her name to Carrington so she and her gold digging mother could really make themselves feel like they belong..." a female voice says bitterly to my left.
I glance down again at the paper in my hand, just as Jalen angrily calls out, "You've all got five fucking seconds to clear this hallway."
He doesn't even get to start counting before almost everyone disappears, leaving only him, me, Noah, Daniel, and Malia.
Malia Jafari, the person with the restraining order against Kenneth Jones.
I turn to my cousin, ready to offer whatever supportive words I can. Despite the bad terms we're still on ever since that day in the library, I want to help. I know how shitty it is when everyone's talking about your personal business.
But Malia's words about surviving from months ago comes back to me the second I look at her. For the briefest moment, her eyes are wide, almost glossed over as they shift from the restraining order littering the lockers to the empty hallway. Then they close, and when they open again, they're as clear as day.
Calm, cool, collected. Unfazed. She pushes some of her hair off of her shoulder and lifts her chin into the air, before moving toward one row of lockers and slowly peeling the papers off.
Jalen follows her lead, though his movements are much faster and harsher as he rips each page off.
Daniel and Noah join in, ripping off papers as fast as they can before the next bell rings and the hallway is flooded with more people.
I pull the paper in my hand up once more, then look toward them again. Malia's movements are still slow and almost delicate as she peels one paper off at a time. After Jalen's got about half the row cleared, he moves toward her. I wait to hear what they're going to say, but no words come.
A brief look is exchanged between them for several seconds, before Malia firmly nods her head once, and Jalen nods in return, then goes back to ripping the papers off.
I swallow hard, facing the lockers behind me. I crumble the paper in my hand, annoyed with myself for wanting to know more about her apparent relationship with Kenneth and just how involved Jalen was.
My hands reach up to start pulling the papers off, as any worry about Jalen and I's future and graduating take a backseat, all because that stupid jealously over Malia and whatever they have seems like it'll never go away.
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The next day of school is... awkward, to say the least. All of Arlin Preparatory knows about Malia's restraining order being plastered over every locker. If you didn't see it, you heard about it, and if you didn't know the history there, you theorized and listened to made up truths until everyone agreed that's what actually happened.
I barely made it through my first few classes. Being the cousin of the girl who's got major issues makes for a day full of shit-talking.
I've ignored most of it, all of it. I don't want to be bothered. All I can do is sit and count the days until graduation. Something I was dreading just yesterday has quickly become all I'm looking forward too.
But that's Arlin Preparatory for you. Things change like the flick of a switch around here.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the star of all of Arlin's dirty talk," David calls out once Malia approaches the table.
Jalen and I are sitting with them today. I didn't even try fighting it or suggesting we go somewhere else. Jalen didn't even say he wanted to sit here. He just started walking here once lunch started, and I followed, because I could tell he wanted to be there for Malia.
What kind of a shitty person would I have been had I begged him to just sit outside with me? I can't ask him to abandon her.
Malia flips a stiff middle finger to David before gracefully taking her seat beside him. "Babe, I know you get off on these little exchanges between us, but I'm not in the mood for it."
"Fine," David says, sounding sad but barely able to hide his smirk. "You in the mood for exchanging something else that'll help get me off?"
Malia laughs to herself, and I watch Dedra tense up on the other side of David. Yikes, this is more awkward than hearing everyone call Malia a dramatic whore in class earlier.
"You know I'm never in the mood for that," Malia responds, the disinterest clear as day in her voice.
David shrugs and tosses an arm around the back of Dedra's chair. Malia's eyes follow, just as a smirk comes to her face.
"So," Jalen calls out, directing everyone's attention to him. Thanks, because that shit was getting unbearable. "Who do we think did it?"
It goes silent around the table, everyone seemingly lost in their thoughts. I can't help acknowledging that this is the first time we've all sat together like this in so long.
David removes his arm from Dedra's chair and leans forward, knocking shoulders with Daniel who's seated right next to him. Jalen follows his lead, leaning forward as well and removing his hand from my lap. I do the opposite, opting to lean back in my chair, resulting in my own shoulder colliding with Noah's—whose chair is annoyingly close to mine. Elijah sighs heavily from Noah's other side, then leans forward.
"Who do you think it is, Malia?" Elijah asks her gently. "If you had to think of one person you know that's capable of doing this, who would it be?"
"Honestly, it could be any one of these people," she says, leaning back in her seat after.
Jalen's directly across from her, and his blue eyes remain on her the entire time. I glance under the table, watching as his right leg bounces up and down.
"We're never gonna figure it out. I'm never gonna figure it out. Too many people at this school hate me," Malia calls out hopelessly.
"Gee, I wonder why," David says sarcastically, snapping his finger. "Maybe if you were less of a bitch, your fan club would be bigger."
Malia smiles bitterly and folds her hands on the table. "Yes, because I'm the biggest bitch this school's ever seen. No one's been worse than me."
My eyes zone in on Jalen's hand, and I feel my fingers curl into fists as he reaches out and gently places his hand over Malia's. My heart rate quickens as he curls his fingers around hers, and she seems to reciprocate, before breaking a part.
"We will figure it out and this shit won't happen again," Jalen tells her firmly. He sounds so sure I almost believe him.
The bell signifying lunch is over rings, ending any more conversation between us all.
"Our class is this way," Daniel tells us while pointing toward himself and Noah before motioning to the door on the opposite end of the cafeteria.
"So is ours," Dedra says while grabbing David's hand. "We can walk together."
David rolls his eyes. "Great. Walking with Prince number two. Just how I wanna spend my last few minutes before class."
Noah smiles at him, but there's nothing genuine about it. "Annoying you is how I wanna spend my last few minutes, so come on, Williams number two."
David rolls his eyes again, but let's Dedra drag him along behind the three of them after he exchanges a quick—and very stupid—hand-slap goodbye with Jalen.
I rise from my seat, watching as Jalen moves toward Malia. They exchange the same look from yesterday, but they still don't use words, and their silent communication is really starting to bug the shit out of me.
"Hey," Elijah says, making me turn to my side and find him standing there.
"Hey," I call back in the same flat tone he used.
"This was one depressing hour, huh?" he asks while shoving his hands into his pockets.
I nod along, tossing my bag over my shoulder and side-glancing once more at Malia and Jalen. "Not as depressing as our last class, though."
Elijah lets out a small laugh. "Didn't do well on the test?"
"I didn't even think she'd have it graded that quickly. The bitch blindsided me," I say with a laugh.
"I think everyone just did so bad that she wanted the tests off her desk as quick as possible."
"Maybe," I say while walking around the table. "But as long as everyone else did bad, then I'm happy."
"Same," Elijah says as he follows my steps, easily catching up and pushing a chair in so it's not blocking my way. "She's definitely gonna have to curve the grades."
"Oh, for sure," I call out, laughing. "Imagine how bad it'll look if we all—"
"Baby," a deep voice calls out. I immediately recognize it as Jalen, and look ahead to find him standing by the doors. His blue eyes move from Elijah to me, and then he's holding out a hand. "C'mon."
I flash Elijah a quick smile and move faster, reaching for Jalen's extended hand and letting him pull me closer. His arm wraps around my waist firmly.
Malia's standing by the doors as well, but she pays us no mind, her attention firmly set on her phone. "What the..."
Her voice trails off as she looks up and toward the doors. Her hand reaches up slowly to open it, and Jalen quickly reaches to hold it open, allowing her and then me to walk through. Right after, his arm is back around me, and just as I'm ready to question why he's holding so damn tightly, the words are lost in my throat when I take in the scene in front of me.
Just like yesterday, people are gathered in groups, staring at something plastered in front of them. But unlike yesterday, it's not just on the lockers. It's on the walls too, and the doors, and one's even on the ceiling.
And this time, it's not a restraining order.
It's naked pictures.
Naked pictures of Malia.
Jalen's arm is off of my waist in seconds, too quick for me to even register it ever being there. My eyes can't find Malia—I quickly lose her in the crowd. I can't even turn to look and see if Elijah is by us, or if he's still in the cafeteria.
All I can manage to do is walk forward, right up to one of the many pictures, and look at it. My eyes glance over the several different ones. I take note of the fact that any... important... parts of Malia aren't shown, but the skimpy bra and underwear don't leave much to the imagination.
And either way, does it matter that her boobs aren't on full display? What matters here is that pictures Malia clearly didn't want or approve of being out there are now hanging all over the halls of Arlin Preparatory.
For what feels like the tenth time in one day, my fists clench at my side. I quickly unclench them as I glance around once more, trying to find Malia, or Jalen, or Elijah, or anyone else who knows how wrong this is.
My eyes finally land on Malia, able to spot her long, black hair in the crowd. I push my way through, finding her staring at the pictures. Her wide eyes take them each in, and with each second that passes, the more vulnerable she looks. I watch as she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, but when they reopen, that mask she's always seemed to easily slip on falls off.
Everything always rolls right off Malia's back—the harshest of comments, the worst kind of actions, everything. She's always been untouchable.
But the longer she stares at these pictures, the quicker I realize that maybe Malia isn't as invincible as she or anyone else—including me—has made her seem.
"Malia—" I begin saying, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
She shoves off my touch, and I'm not sure if that's because she didn't know it was me or she just doesn't want anyone by her. Jalen emerges from the crowd right after, crumbled pictures in his hand. His go-to must have been to tear off as many pictures as he can.
"Who the fuck put these up?" he calls out in a loud voice.
His tone sends chills down my spine, and I quickly become grateful I am not the person on the receiving end of that bad temper.
"I said who put these up?" he repeats angrily, stepping further into the crowd, causing them all to move back, now leaving us three in the center of a suffocating circle. "I know it's the same person who did this shit yesterday. You've made your point. Now step the fuck up."
"Geez, Jalen, we've all never seen you this angry before," a female voice calls out. "And over Malia, no less. Lyndon, how's that make you feel?"
My eyes rapidly search the crowd the second my name's mentioned, just as Malia and Jalen's do. I'm not even surprised when they land on Rachel. Annoyed? Hell yes. But not surprised at all.
"Of course," I murmur once my eyes go to her.
I don't mean for my words to be heard, but she hears them and responds. "Of course what, Lyndon? Of course your boyfriend cares more about your cousin than he ever will about you?"
I grind my teeth, feeling my fingers curl into fists again. I fold my arms to refrain from attacking her. This isn't about me. No matter how hard she's trying to make it, it's not. This is about Malia, and the shitty thing that's just happened to her.
If Rachel thinks this is the time to get her payback for me embarrassing her at the masquerade party, than she's a fucking idiot. Bigger things are going on.
Unless... she's the one who...
"You pathetic little bitch."
Malia comes to the conclusion faster than me, probably because my brain refuses to accept it.
"You've been talking to him?" Malia questions, but it comes out more like a statement. Like she's already sure she knows exactly what happened.
Wait, him? Him who?
Rachel remains quiet, folding her arms across her chest. I drop mine immediately. Don't need any similarities between us. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Now's not the time to play dumb," Malia grinds out, stepping closer to the girl. "Did you or did you not speak with him?"
Malia's anger is clear, but there's something else there too. I sense fear, worry, over whoever the hell she thinks Rachel spoke with.
Does Malia think Rachel's been in contact with this Kenneth guy? The restraining order was the one she has against him, and she most likely took the pictures to send to someone. Did she send them to him, and he had them all this time? Did Rachel ask him for them?
I glance toward Rachel again. Her arms aren't wrapped tightly around her frame, not like the way they were the night I called her out. She's not a nervous wreck, in fact, she's confident. She doesn't care. The Queen of the whole school is confronting her in front of everyone and she's not batting an eye.
Does she really give no fucks? Did she really do all of this?
Malia seems to think so, and the glare Jalen's sending her shows he thinks the same.
But my gut tells me she didn't. At least, she didn't do it all.
"Why?" Rachel asks, a small smile coming to her face. "You miss him? I could pass the message along if you want, but I don't think Jalen's gonna like that too much."
My jaw drops at her words. I can't believe she even has the nerve to say that right now.
I watch as Malia's nostrils flare up, and momentary shock comes to her—probably for the same reason as me. But her's passes much quicker than mine, and in the next blink of my eye, Malia's lunging forward, grabbing ahold of Rachel's hair and dragging the small girl down to the floor.
Cheers and gasps echo around me. I'm shoved left and right as people move closer, wanting to get a look of Rachel trying to get off the ground while Malia claws at her face.
I lose sight of Jalen, and barely have any view of Malia and Rachel as I'm shoved once more. I notice the cheerleader uniform next to me, and as if it's my intuition or fucking fate, I stare straight ahead and see Cortney.
She stands there with a smirk, eyes set firmly on the sight of Malia pulling on Rachel's wavy hair as she flails around on the ground, trying to push my cousin off.
I take in the look on Malia's face—the pure anger, and the hurt. Her pictures are still plastered around, some hanging right over them as they fight.
And then my gaze goes back to Cortney. I realize that it is fate that made me look her way.
Because it's her. It's all her doing.
Maybe she didn't contact this guy herself. And maybe Rachel did most of the work. But Cortney started it, she encouraged it. I feel it. I know it.
And I'm not fucking allowing it.
The memory of her coming up to me in the hallway for the first time flashes in my mind. Malia appearing by my side seconds later follows. Then comes the night of Jalen's birthday party, and the cocky grin Cortney sent my way. My cousin was by my side for that moment too.
My fists clench, and this time, I don't fight the urge.
I march forward. Cortney's eyes remain on the girls on the floor who are being easily pulled apart by some of the guys. She glances my way at the last second, and just as a satisfied smirk is making its way onto her lips, I swing.
Her head moves back, hand coming up to cup her cheek. She looks at me with wide eyes, glaring. Her mouth opens, no doubt ready to say something bitchy, but I don't allow her the chance.
Because I swing again, and again, and then I'm pushing her onto the ground.
Next thing I know I'm falling. I'm not sure if I pushed too hard and caused my fall, or if Cortney dragged me down with her.
My shoulder collides roughly with the ground, the rest of my body landing on top of Cortney, allowing her to take most of the blow. I take a second to catch my breath, but that proves to be a mistake as Cortney quickly sits up and tosses me aside, making my shoulder hit the hard ground again.
There's no time to feel that pain, though, because Cortney's already swinging, and now my eyes are watering from the hit she just landed on my nose.
I push her shoulders with all my strength to get her off of me, but the bitch won't move. So, I slap her. That causes her to move back a bit, allowing me the chance to completely toss her off of me. She lands on her ass on the floor.
Just as I'm scrambling up, she pulls my ankle, dragging me back down. I kick as hard as I can, and I think I make contact with her neck, but even then, she doesn't let go of my ankle. She moves closer to me, trying to punch me again, but I block it as best as I can, continuing to kick, hoping I hit something on her.
I feel arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me off of her. I assume it's security, but I can't tell. I'm too focused on my anger—all directed at the bitch still maintaining a tight grip on my ankle.
Someone pulls Cortney up too, and now that we're almost face to face again, I swing once more, feeling the pressure build in my hand as I make direct contact with her cheekbone. Damn, those things are hard. I hear her groan in pain as she finally releases my ankle.
Her hands fly out, though, and it's clear she's trying to claw at anything on me that she can. I smack her hands away, forming another fist and hoping I can get another hit in.
"Lyndon, that's enough," a deep voice from behind me says.
I quickly realize it's Jalen's that's holding me, telling me to stop. But I can't. I feel my anger rise more. He's the reason she's doing all of this, and she's the reason my future with him is so up in the air.
I'm pissed, and I want to hurt her. So, I push Jalen off of me and move closer to her.
More shouting from the crowd follows. I hear someone calling for security. I even register Malia's voice telling me to stop.
I feel my hair being pulled, and my eyes quickly find the culprit. Cortney pulls my head closer, raising her fist. I reach my hands out to push her off of my hair, and decide if she wants to resort to pulling hair and scratching like some basic bitches, then fine. Let's do it.
I claw at her face with both my hands, just as another arm wraps around me. And then I hear a voice say lowly in my ear, "Lyn."
That's all they say. And though I despise that nickname, and their hold isn't even that strong, I find myself stopping. I drop my hands to my side and let them pull me away.
When they get me further down the hall and move into my view, I already know who it is.
"You should've let me finish," I say bitterly.
"You made your point loud and clear," Elijah responds.
I take a moment to catch my breath. Then I move my left shoulder around, already feeling the pain building up there. "Son of a bitch," I groan.
"What is going on here?"
Everyone turns toward Headmaster Perry at once, and then they all clear the fuck out, leaving me and Elijah on one side of the hall, Jalen, Malia, and Rachel in the middle, and Cortney with David on the other side.
I didn't even realize David was here. He's standing between Cortney and the other three, meaning he must've been the one pulling her away.
"My office. Now," the headmaster demands of us all.
I take in another deep breath. They all begin moving, but I turn to look for Malia and Jalen.
Malia's the first following the headmaster, with her phone to her side, rapidly sending off a text with one hand.
And Jalen's next to her. He suddenly stops, though, as if sensing my gaze. When we make eye contact, I feel something pass between us. It's not the usual chills I get—the good kind, the electrifying kind. This time, it feels bad.
I sigh heavily, and then groan in pain when someone's heavy arm is thrown over my shoulder.
"Come on, Taz," David says teasingly. "Let's see how much trouble you're in."
"Taz... as in... the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes?" I question stupidly.
David nods, reaching his other hand up to tap my nose. "That's right, my little firecracker."
He pulls me along, and I don't even fight it, suddenly too tired to resist.
When we reach the office, I hear Headmaster Perry asking who were the people that actually threw fists. Cortney's bleeding nose is a clear sign she was involved, and I don't doubt she's gonna call me out any second now.
I sigh again, then lightly shove David's arm off of me. I turn to him, catching the smile on his face. He's enjoying this too much.
"Ya did good, kid," he says, giving me a thumbs up.
"Taz, firecracker, kid," I list, staring at him blankly. "I think I'd just prefer Boulevard."
David's smile grows. "Yeah," he agrees with a nod. "I think I prefer that, too."
He motions with his head behind me, signalling that the headmaster is calling for me. Clearly, Cortney already talked.
I catch Jalen's eye as I walk further into the office, and I don't miss the annoyed glance he sends before he reaches out a hand, catching mine and squeezing lightly.
"I'll be back to take you home," he says softly, despite the harsh look on his face.
I'm left confused on how he's feeling. He leaves seconds later with David trailing behind him, and Elijah shortly follows.
I sigh once more as, now, it's just us girls and the fucking headmaster.
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
"How long is this bitch gonna take in there?"
Malia and Rachel both glance toward me, before their eyes go to each other, and Rachel quickly drops her gaze to the ground.
"Cortney's always got a story to tell," Malia responds. "I'd be surprised if she wasn't taking this long."
I shake my foot, my nervousness finally hitting me. Headmaster Perry questioned us all at once, but obviously that didn't work, seeing as we all have our version of events. He seemed more pissed with me and Cortney, to be honest. Probably because we actually fought. From what I heard, Malia and Rachel got a couple of scratches in and were pulled away.
But that's not what's got me nervous. It's the fact that Headmaster Perry said he's calling our parents. I really don't wanna deal with the lecture they're gonna try giving me once this is all over.
And I also really, really don't want to get suspended and have this go on my permanent record.
What if colleges and universities take back their acceptances if they find out about this?
A hand lands on my leg, ending my nervous shaking. I follow it to Malia, and she nods at me before removing her hand. Her brown eyes glance toward Rachel on the other side of the room, before she turns toward me again.
"Thank you," she tells me lowly.
I shrug my good shoulder. I'm not sure what she's thanking me for. Fighting Cortney? Getting us all in more trouble because of it?
"Thank you for having my back," she clarifies.
I furrow my brows, turning to face her completely. "You don't need to thank me for that."
"Yeah, I do," Malia responds. "You didn't have to do any of that, but you did. You had my back. Thank you."
"I'll always have your back against these people. The same way Noah and I always got each other," I tell her firmly. "We're family."
I refrain from laughing at the shocked look on her face. I've learned that family never really meant shit to her—that was made clear with the way she treated me when I moved and when I returned—but maybe I should find it more saddening than angering that she truly doesn't understand.
Blood is blood. We may get aggravated with each other, and I may still feel some type of way about her own relationship with Jalen, but that would never stop me from defending her against anyone else. Just as something like that would never stop me from defending Noah, and Knox, and vice versa.
Family is family. We can hurt each other, but no one else can.
At least, that's how I've always seen it.
And hopefully, after today, Malia will start to see it that way too.
Because I know she'll defend Jalen before she defends me. And as badly as I wish that would change, I guess I'll take it if it means finally having an okay relationship with her after all these years.
Malia smiles at me, and I take that as her way of agreeing.
"So..." I whisper, dragging out the word. "This Kenneth guy..."
"Not talking about it," Malia responds in a clipped tone. Then, as if to soften the blow after the little progress we just made, she adds, "Not right now."
I quickly nod. "Got it."
Seconds later I hear her release a small laugh as she shakes her head at me. I join in, but the nice moment barely lasts as the door opens and Cortney steps out with her parents right behind her.
"We'll decide if we're going to press charges after speaking with Mr. Prince," I hear her mother say.
My eyes widen at the word charges. Oh, fuck my life.
"He'll be here shortly," Headmaster Perry says before turning towards us girls. "Malia Carrington, take a seat. Your father will join us via Skype."
"Stepfather," Malia corrects as she rises from her seat and walks into the office.
I ignore Cortney's burning glare, and the fact that my fucking dad is about to come be my only saving grace of getting out of having charges put against me.
"Head home, enfant. We'll handle it from here," Cortney's father says to her.
Seconds later I hear the door open and close. I look up to find Cortney's parents sitting in the other lounge, leaving just Rachel and I in this one.
I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. What a fucking day.
"Hey, Lyndon."
And here we go.
"What in the fuck do you want, bitch?"
Rachel smiles.
"I just wanted to let you know that I enjoyed my time as one of the girls in Jalen's game while you two were on your little break."
My right eye twitches.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
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A / N:
Wow. It has been too long since the last update. But here it finally is!
I wanted to get it just right because I've had this planned for so long. Hope you all enjoyed.
Next chapter should be up either tonight or tomorrow. Most of it is written, just have to add a few things and finish editing. We're so close to the end. I'm excited, but also kind of sad about it. Bittersweet. Anyway, let me know what you think, and I'll be back soon!