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He reached for the folder and I snatched it away. “What—no!”
Gibsie laughed but didn’t say anything else.
The knowing grin he gave me was enough of a response.
“How’d you manage to convince Dee to hand it over?” I asked, changing the subject.
“How’d you think?”
I repressed a shudder. “Jesus.”
“It’s not all bad.” Gibsie smirked. “The woman sucks like a hoover, and the thrill of getting caught always makes for fun times.”
I held a hand up. “Didn’t need to know that.”
He snorted. “You already knew that.”
“Yeah.” I sighed heavily. “Well, I didn’t need to be reminded.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling at the collar of his school shirt so he could get a good look at his neck in the small rectangular mirror. “Always the neck.”
Unsatisfied with that view, he twisted the rearview mirror to face him and groaned.
Turning to look at me, Gibsie said, “See the sacrifices I make for you?”
My eyes landed on the purplish bruise forming on his neck.
“Better be something worth reading in there,” he grumbled.
Turning my attention back to the folder, I flicked it open to the first page and then tensed, eyes moving to his. “Did you read it?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he replied, digging around his pocket, “it’s not my business.” He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. “I’m hanging for a smoke.” He shoved the door open and stepped out, stopping to lean in and announce, “Orgasms make me crave nicotine,” before closing the door and sparking up.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the file in my hands, riveted to every detail of information Shannon Lynch’s confidential file revealed. Pages upon pages of incidents and reports all neatly typed out on white paper, detailing every horrendous ordeal the girl had suffered in her old school—and there had been a lot.
Fourteen pages of incidents.
Front and back.
A few pages in, I learned that Shannon had slipped from a solid C student at the beginning of first year to scraping D’s and E’s by the end of second year. Attached to her less-than-stellar exam results were notes from her former teachers, praising her gentle nature and diligent and conscientious work ethic.
I didn’t need a note to explain the steady decline in her grades. I’d figured that out on page one.
She was the victim of bullying.
They cut her ponytail off when she was in first year. When she was thirteen. Their punishment for such a crime was a week’s suspension. Seriously. A week off school for cutting a girl’s fucking hair off.
Girls.
They were so goddamn sick and twisted.
How anyone could expect the girl to concentrate in a classroom setting as volatile as that was beyond me.
Seriously, what the hell was wrong with people? What was the matter with that school and those teachers? The fuck were her parents thinking, leaving her there for two years?
