Last update for tonight.
Chapter 42
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Detention, this time, consisted of scraping all the gum off of the bleachers in the gym.
Sidney had been waiting for Miriam by her locker beforehand, only flinch the moment she mentioned it. Her friend had looked like she wanted to say something—warn her…
But then Brett and Anna had appeared to sweep her away. Leaving only enough time for one last warning look.
The only thing Miriam could do was head into the gym and just hope that Sidney's fear had been related to how much homework they had due tomorrow and not...
Something else.
“Coach Spriller is away at a basketball game,” Carl announced the moment she walked into the gym. "It's just you and me."
His tone made her skin crawl.
When she didn’t reply that smug smirk shaping his mouth only grew.
“Get to work,” he snapped, pointing to a bucket on the floor, beside something that looked like a metal paint scrapper.
Miriam took both of them warily and set her backpack down beside the door. Then she set to work, climbing the nearest row of bleachers and bending down to scrape the rubbery yuck from beneath the seat.
It wasn’t so bad.
The time passed slowly, but at least it gave her time to think.
About Eliot. About her seizures.
About everything.
Devlin’s slip of paper weighed down her pocket like a lead ball. She hadn’t looked at it—not even a peek. Something about it repelled her all together.
She almost considered tossing it into the little blue bucket, right along with the rest of the gunk she scraped from the plastic seats.
But then she would remember Eliot's guarded expression and think again.
He was keeping something her. Hiding something—and if Devlin's threatening little note was what it took to get him to open up again, well...
Brushing the hair from her eyes, she reached for her bucket, preparing to move onto the next row, but a pair of sneakers blocked her way.
Glancing up, she shivered as her eyes met Coach Carl’s ice blue ones.
“You’ve been quite the little Miss popular around here lately,” he said, glaring down his hooked nose. “This time two weeks ago you were too wrapped up in yourself to say two words to anyone else. Now it seems as if you and Sidney Martin are fast friends.” His eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”
Miriam flinched at the heated tone. “W-what?”
Unconsciously, her fingers gripped the metal scraper until the knuckles turned white. Figners shaking, she tucked it behind her back and out of sight.
“I know she told you something,” Carl snarled, taking a step closer. “What. Did. She. Say?”
Miriam shook her head and slowly began to back away. “N-nothing.”
“You’re lying.” His face changed into a cold, hard expression that was downright terrifying. Carefully, as if to make sure that she watched, he tilted his head down to the gym floor almost twelve feet below. “Maybe a fall from the stairs would loosen your memory?”
He wasn't joking.
Run! The thought exploded inside Miriam’s head, and she didn’t need to be told twice. She lurched to her feet and bolted. Her foot knocked the bucket off the bench and it went flying.
Smack, smack, smack went the sound of the plastic as it bounced off the bleacher benches one by one.
Ignoring the sound, Miriam lunged, heart pounding.
She barely made it halfway.
A cruel hand snatched at her hair, wrenching her head back until she balanced precariously on the edge of the top level.
“I heard that you have seizures,” she heard Carl growl from behind her. She screamed as he shoved her forward, only to yank her back by her hair at the last possible moment. Pain exploded through her scalp, making sharp tears spring to life behind her eyes.
“If you fall, no one will think anything of it,” he promised. “They’ll just assume you had another one, so I suggest you start talking.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I don’t know—”
Another fierce yank on her hair cut her off in a gasp of pain. She was sure that some of it had ripped free between those thick fingers. Eyes streaming, she scanned the gym for any sign of anyone else.
“Help!" She shouted, trying to make her voice carry. "Help me—”
“There’s no one else here,” Carl announced on a laugh. “I made sure of it. Now tell me what that little bitch told you.”
He’s going to push you, a part of Miriam realized. Whether he gets what he wants or not, he’ll throw you over.
Just then, Eliot’s words played through her mind; you don’t have time to think. To plan. Just react.
Her fingers clenched over the handle of the paint scraper as she realized she still held it. Blindly she lashed out twisting around to reach him even though her scalp throbbed as the motion intensified the pull on her hair.
“What the—”
She slashed, the edge of the sharp metal catching him on the wrist.
Startled, he let her go and she jumped down hard to land on the bench four rows down. Her ankle throbbed, aching as she lurched to her feet and climbed down onto the level below.
Keep moving, was her only thought. Just don’t stop moving.
She could hear him behind her, muttering curses under his breath as he tried to keep up.
Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving...
She hit the gym floor and took off running, boots smacking against the floor as she raced to the entrance.
“Get back here!”
He caught her by the collar of her shirt and swung her around so hard that she went sprawling down onto the waxed floor.
Whack!
Her chin smacked off the wood and she groaned as the shock reverberated down her spine. But she didn't have a lot of time to register the pain as a shadow fell over her like a cloud.
Huffing Carl stood above her, sporting a nasty gash on his cheek from where she must have gotten him with the scraper.
“You’ll pay for that,” he swore, right before his sneaker connected with her side.
Thwack! She gritted her teeth against a whimper and forced her body to stay still.
Deadweight, something told her. Play dead; let him think he’s won.
Sure enough, when she didn’t move he couldn’t resist crouching down to her level to gloat.
“I’ll teach you, you little brat,” he growled, reaching for the scraper she still held clenched in her fist. "I'll show you—"
Fight!
She lunged.
Like Eliot had said, she forgot all about predator and prey and just reacted.
His eyes went wide as she sliced at his arm with the sharp metal, drawing blood that smeared the skin. Then, before he could retaliate, she threw herself at him, hands shoving him back hard.
He wasn’t expecting it and he went down so hard that the back of his head made an eerie crack against the floor. He still tried to move though, glaring as he tried to stand.
"You little—"
Miriam stood over him and placed her purple rain boot over the center of his chest. Then, she balanced all of her weight on it until he coughed, cheeks turning red.
She was barely a fourth of his weight wet, but balanced right over his ribcage it was more than enough to do some damage. He went still, blue eyes wide.
With fear, Miriam realized in awe. He's afraid of me...
“Don’t come after me again,” she warned him in a voice so cold it made her the back of her neck prickle.
“You little—”
She dug her heel in and he broke off with a groan.
“I could kill, you know,” she added, bending down so that she could wave the pointed edge of the scrape in the direction of his throat.
Not enough to scratch. But enough...
Whoa, a part of her exclaimed. Where the hell had that come?
She didn’t know. He was more than just afraid now; she could see it in his eyes as he nodded frantically.
A part of her was afraid too.
“I’m going to let you go,” she told him, stepping back. “And you’re going to let me leave here, understood?”
He didn’t answer, but another nod gave her an answer.
She turned away, suddenly exhausted.
The world seemed to sway beneath her feet as she let the scraper slip through her fingers to hit the floor. Her little taste of darkness seemed to make her body feel unnaturally heavy as she headed to the entrance.
Is this what Eliot feels like all the time, she wondered? Having control? Power, over other people?
Was this what that felt like?
The reason for the gleam in the wolf's eye as it stood over the bleeding neck of the doe.
She couldn’t shake the tiny sliver of her that liked it.
That wanted more...
At least now, nobody could call her prey.
She could hear Carl scrambling to his feet behind her. Without the scraper she didn’t have anything left to fight him off.
“I’ll teach you, you little bitch," he swore, voice hoarse.
Run! Her body tensed to do just that—but before she could even take a step a monstrous growl echoed through the gym, freezing her in her tracks.
Because there, standing right before the door was a monstrous wolf, flanked on either side by Alyea and Devlin Marcus.
Only instead of books and backpacks in their hands…
They held swords.