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Later she called it a sucker punch, but she knew it was coming. She practically begged me for it. Right beneath the ribs. My knotty little knuckles slammed into her stomach and then, as she fell, my other hand came up and caught her square in the face. Blood spurted from her nose, surprising me but not stopping me. She reached out and tried to grab my hair but I knocked her hand away and shoved her backwards. Back she went, onto a couch in the lobby and then over it.
Her head must have hit something somewhere along the way, for she did not get up again. Instead she lay there moaning, wiping at her face until scarlet streaked her cheeks and the sleeve of her shirt, even smearing the lovely marble floor.
It was only then, when I stood there panting, fists balled and feet parted, that I realized the old man had quit talking. Silence filled the lobby, despite the crowd gathering in a cautious circle around the scene. Our teacher ran to April's side and lifted her to a sitting position, where she cried and snuffled.
Our other chaperon, Mr. Wicks, found his way to me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me harder than he needed to. "What did you do?" he asked, his runny gray eyes mere inches from my face. "What did you do to her?"
"She—she was, she said—"
"You don't just hit people like that!" He squeezed and I grunted.
I was frightened by his grip, and by the nearness of his breath. I couldn't stand him being so close. I lashed out, mirroring his self-righteous tone and hoping to push him back with my words. "Then why did you ask? Why does everyone keep asking me questions when they already know the answers, or else they don't care?"
He clapped my face in his beefy hand and held my chin so high I had to stand on tiptoe to keep from hurting. "If there was a problem, you should have taken it to me or to your teacher. Now quiet down right now, and unless you want to get kicked out of school the second we get back, you stay quiet!"
We stood that way for several seconds, me with lifted neck and him with menacing veins bulging at his temples. Our nostrils flared a complementary tempo until he released my jaw and we each stepped back.
Inch by inch, the muffled veil that had dropped over the place lifted and small daily noises once again echoed off the glass, brass, and stone. With it came hushed, feverish discussion amongst my schoolmates. I caught quick phrases, nothing I wanted to hear or repeat, as I slumped down on the lobby sofa over which April had stumbled. There I stayed while the tour continued without me, and without April, who was taken back to the school nurse by a chaperon who'd brought her own car. Mr. Wicks sat on the couch opposite me and glared, not speaking.
In order to avoid his laser gaze, I stared at the walls, and into the bar, and out through the glass at the gardens where the train tracks had once run. I strained to hear the rest of the tour guide's speech, but no matter how hard I listened it was lost to me. I gave up, closed my eyes and tried to pretend like I didn't feel like crying.
But I did feel like crying. I was desperately angry and hurt. I wanted my aunt but I didn't want to look like a baby asking for her. Besides, the odds were better than fair she'd get a call as soon as we returned, and I didn't want to face her wrath after yet another principal's message. Probably she wouldn't be angry. Probably she would understand . . . but she might not. Sometimes it was hard to judge.
And my hand ached. I'd never hit anyone before, and it seemed I'd bruised a knuckle or two. Did anyone care? No, of course not. I absently rubbed my wounded hand with my unharmed fingers.
A second teacher appeared to join Mr. Wicks. "Is everyone behaving here?" she asked, eyes boring hatefully into me. Again, I was hurt. She was the advanced reading group teacher and I liked her. I'd thought she liked me too, but she must not have, or she wouldn't have looked at me like that.
"Yes, and it had better stay that way. She'd better be sitting there thinking about what she did. "
"Oh, I am," I mumbled with meaning.
"What was that?" they asked in perfect unison.
As if to assert himself, Mr. Wicks leaned forward. His forehead crumpled with disgust and his upper lip lifted at the edge to flash one of his nicotine-stained teeth. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing. "
"What?"
"Nothing. I didn't say anything. "
The reading teacher folded her arms and lurked behind Mr. Wicks. "You're in plenty enough trouble here, Eden. Don't get smart on us. I just don't understand this sort of behavior from you. I mean, I know you've had . . . some family trouble recently . . . "
I could have sworn I saw one corner of her mouth twitch, as if she'd made a little joke. Mr. Wicks's similar dull grin confirmed my suspicions. With sudden, glaring clarity it became perfectly apparent that they were making fun of me. I clenched both hands again, even the sore one, and dug them into the tops of my legs.
The reading teacher shook her head, trying to cast the smile away. It half worked. She went on. "But if you were having problems with another student you should have called it to our attention. You never take matters into your own hands like that. "
I rummaged around in the steaming pile of anger in my chest and found my voice. I lifted it up and offered it out. "And what would you have done?" It came as a whisper, not a very steady one.
The teachers looked at each other, and Mr. Wicks answered for them both. "That depends on the circumstances. We could have sat down and talked things through, and if she was being rude or unkind—then we would have taken action. "
"Like what?"
"That depends. But you have to leave that up to us. We're the ones who make the decisions around here. "
I sat silent for another moment, growing calmer before looking at either of them. A lesson was coming together, and I sensed it was important. Behind me a pair of high heels clattered on the shiny floor, and phones rang at the check-in desk. Oh yes, it was a hotel now. I looked over my shoulder and out the front windows beside the doors. Across the road the sad, sagging ruins of other hotels and restaurants forlornly decayed to uniform shades of gray.
I raised my eyes. "Can I ask you something?"
