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Hunter didn’t move. Clare had shrunk back against the lockers. Garrett looked like he was ready to come around the teacher—or through her. If Hunter turned around and started walking, Garrett wouldn’t follow his lead. He’d strike again.
Hunter could feel the promise of violence in the air. He wondered what he’d done to draw Garrett’s attention today.
Once he had the attention of Jeremy’s crowd, it was insanely hard to lose it.
He started planning how he could minimize the damage.
“Walk,” Miss Janney said. “There are two more days of school. I’m sure you don’t want to spend them on suspension.”
Garrett didn’t move. “He started it.”
Hunter opened his mouth, but Miss Janney held up a hand. “I don’t care who started it. Walk or I’m calling security.”
“Whatever.” Garrett shrugged his backpack higher on his arm as he turned to walk. “I know where to find him later.”
New way home. Check.
Once Garrett was walking, Miss Janney disappeared back into her classroom, muttering something about forty-eight more hours until peace.
Clare left the safety of the lockers and touched Hunter’s arm. Her eyes were full of concern. “Are you okay?”
He would let Garrett punch him again if this was the result.
“Yeah,” he said, and his voice sounded slightly thick. His cheek had taken the brunt of the hit, but his nose felt sore, too.
“I think you’re bleeding,” she said. “Do you want to go to the nurse?”
Bleeding? He touched a hand to his nose and felt wetness. Crimson drops clung to his fingers.
Clare was fishing through her backpack. “Here.”
Tissues. He held one to his face. This was just great. Maybe he could pee his pants next.
“You were going to fight him,” said Clare, her voice soft.
“I wasn’t going to let him kill me.”
“Aren’t you afraid of him?”
“I used to be,” he said honestly.
“Did your dad teach you to fight, too?”
“Yeah.” He checked the tissues. Ugh. “God, I look like a total wuss.”
“No way,” said Clare with a smile. “I think you look totally fearless.”
CHAPTER 3
The early summer air was soft on Hunter’s face as he trudged through the woods to the edge of the cornfield. He’d shoved some apples and two cans of soda in his backpack, along with a box of ammunition and two unloaded handguns.
Clare was walking by his side.
He was going to teach her to shoot.
His father’s lack of anger left him feeling more worried instead of less. The warning still rang in his ears, and he told his brain to knock it off. What could she be using him for? Shooting lessons?
Stupid.
