Page 30 of That Pucking New Girl

Ignacio has to contort his body slightly to get into Rachelle’s car, but she hides a smile as she hits the push to start button.

“Did you forget how big you are when you suggested coming with us?” she asks.

“Very cute,” he says, fixing the seat to help him stretch his legs better. “I’ll have Elijah pick me up once he’s dropped the girls off. Your car is hobbit sized.”

“Shh. The car can hear you,” she hisses while I giggle.

Mom and Dad are fighting, I think jokingly. Unfortunately, it reminds me of my actual parents fighting and sobers my levity. My fingers scrunch and release my skirt as I try to redirect my thoughts, and Ignacio glances back at me. His own smile dims slightly as he watches me.

“Why don’t you open this,” he suggests, handing me a box.

Accepting the distraction, I begin to unwrap the gift.

“I managed to get in touch with your last therapist, Noor,” Rachelle says as she begins to drive down to the gates.

“I liked her,” I admit, glancing up.

“She gave me the name of a colleague who does private practice,” Rachelle says. “Dr. Colson Sallew works in Montecito. I’m going to ask around before I call to make an appointment, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

I nod, not saying anything. I regularly lie to my therapists. I can’t help it. I feel like my emotions are too big to appropriately discuss, and telling the truth will lead to consequences I don’t want to deal with.

Focusing on the box, I slide the top open and stare at the contents. Holy shit. It’s a really gorgeous pocket knife. The handle is smooth as I run my fingers over it, and it’s an emerald color that ends in brown at the bottom.

“It’s a wood and resin handle,” Ignacio says, twisting in his seat.

He’s dressed down today in a pair of dark wash jeans and a long sleeved Henley. I can see his tattoos as he pulls up his sleeves to get comfortable, and I'm glad to have him on my side. Even his hair is done in a way that makes him look like he rolled out of bed with it perfectly done. The thought makes me smirk, because I’m sure that’s not the case.

I don’t think Chesterfield Prep is ready for him.

“There’s a holster in the box so that you can wear it on your thigh. I want you to stab first and worry about it later,” he says.

Rachelle’s lips tighten in the rear view mirror but she doesn’t say anything.

Taking out the pocket knife, I open it carefully, staring down at the blade detail.

“It’s handmade, and the blade is created by layering, welding, and hammering the steel. I bought it six months ago and left it in the box. I didn’t know why, but I felt pulled to get it, and I refuse to ignore my gut,” Ignacio explains. “It’s gotten me out of too many scrapes.”

“I can’t even say I’m against violence, because I’m not,” Rachelle says, surprising me. “If you fuck around, you deserve to face the consequences of those actions. Especially when you mess with my family. I know we’re still in a trial phase, but that also comes with very protective, sometimes psychotic parental units.”

“I can see,” I say, both amused and touched.

“I like the taser for non-lethal situations, but I don’t trust the kids at your school after this,” Ignacio says. “There are few places to go after a beating but psychological warfare and more violence ranks high on that list.”

“High school sucks,” I sigh, closing the knife to pull out the harness for the holster. Since I’m in a skirt, Ignacio twists to face forward so I can tightly wrap and secure it around my thigh. “Graduating could be nice, but do I actually need to?”

“I did,” Rachelle says. “It was through home schooling because of my situation, but I did it. We could do that.”

“A part of me doesn’t want to quit after one day,” I say, blowing out a breath angrily. Smoothing down my skirt, I watch as Rachelle turns to drive through the gates of the school.

They managed to distract me for the entire drive. I’m kind of impressed.

“We’ll play this by ear,” Ignacio decides. “We founded this school, Noor. We pull in the money so that everything works. Rachelle wanted to provide a decent education to kids of all walks of life. There’s no tuition, the uniforms are new but they’re paid for by the school, as are the tablets.”

“I provide therapy to students. Group work is considered a class, and people sign up to be in it. Once I’m able to break past their idea that I'm a preppy bitch who doesn’t understand them, we usually get to have good conversations,” Rachelle explains. “I used to bring Ari with me to work when she was little in a carrier. To the outside world, my life looks really perfect.”

“No one’s life is perfect,” I say, knowing it’s true.

“Exactly. I have good and bad days just like everyone else,” she says. “I don’t want this school to become what I survived. I’ve let the board make more and more decisions about the school, while I’ve focused on the therapy and fundraiser aspects. I think I need to get more involved.”