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My hands were wrapped so tightly around the edges of my tray that my knuckles actually ached. I wanted to dump the burger and water bottle on the floor and swing the tray as hard as I could at each of their faces. I wanted to knock those superior grins loose, and maybe a couple of teeth while I was at it.
But I just clenched my jaw so hard my own teeth almost cracked and took a step back.
“Fine. Enjoy your fucking lunch.”
With that, I turned and walked out of the dining hall. A few catcalls followed me, breaking the silence that’d fallen over the room. My lungs burned, probably because I was barely breathing, and my face felt like it was on fire. I burst through the entry doors and sucked in air like I’d
been drowning. Then I dumped my food, tray and all, into a trash can and hurried down the steps.
Adrenaline had flooded through my system—not that it’d done me any damn good—and now the combination of that energy spike and the lack of food made my legs feel shaky and weak.
What just happened?
I hadn’t done anything to those assholes. Nothing that should’ve prompted such harsh retaliation anyway. And how the hell did they know I was from Idaho? Had Leah told them? Or had rumors and whispers about me spread that fast on my first day?
Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I headed toward a smaller class building on the opposite side of the quad—one of the outliers Leah had mentioned—and walked around to the side, out of view, before sinking down into a crouch, back pressed up against the wall. I sucked in air through my nostrils, tilting my head up and letting the sun warm my face.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I let out an angry noise, grimacing as I blinked them away. I hadn’t cried since I’d left Sand Valley, and even though I knew it was just the mountain of stress and strange new things trying to pull tears from me now, I refused to let them come.
Not because of those fucking rich boys. I wouldn’t let them be the straw that broke me.
Breathe, Tal. Just breathe. So the four hottest guys in school don’t like you. So what? You’ve put up with more shit in your lifetime than those rich assholes could ever dream of. Don’t let them fucking win.
I stayed there for the rest of the lunch period, and even though my stomach still felt hollow, my legs didn’t shake anymore when I finally pressed to my feet.
Pulling my schedule out of my bag, I gave it a very thorough once-over, making my best guesses at where the classrooms were so I wouldn’t have to ask anyone for directions. Then I made my way back out onto the quad, gripping my backpack straps tight and keeping my head high.
I made it to my next class—Biology—without getting lost, but I was almost late again. And as soon as I stepped through the door, my heart sank. One of my tormentors, the one who wore his uniform so well, was sitting near the back, his posture a lot better than the blond guy’s had been. His gaze flicked toward me, and the cool expression melted off his face, replaced by a sneer.
The teacher handed me a textbook and syllabus, and I took the only seat left available—right next the bronze-haired asshole.
His name was Elijah, I learned. Not because he spoke to me, but because the girl behind him couldn’t stop flirting with him, whispering his name and leaning over her desk to try to get closer to him.
He didn’t seem interested though, choosing instead to spend most of the class staring challengingly at me. He ignored her, and I ignored him, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead, even though I could feel his gaze crawling over me.
Every other class was just as bad. Mason was in my seventh period English Literature class, and he’d somehow managed to turn the whole class against me before I even arrived. The girl behind me wrote SLUT on my white blazer with sharpie, and when I yanked out of her reach, she just smirked, blowing on the marker like it was a smoking gun before capping it.
In the hallways, more people stared at me, and the looks were no longer simply curious like they’d been in the morning. Now the expressions on their faces ranged from standoffish to mocking to openly hostile.
Mason, Elijah, Cole, and whatever the fuck their Captain America looking friend was called had somehow turned the entire school against me in a single day.
What the hell did I ever do to them?
Chapter 5
By the time eighth period rolled around, I was dying for the day to be over. I felt exhausted and strung out, my skin sore and muscles achy from being held tense and defensive all day.
I found my Chemistry classroom in Johnson Hall, the building that made up the east side of the U, and went through the familiar drill of picking up my syllabus and textbook from the teacher. He also gave me two homework assignments to catch up on, making my stress level rise even higher.
Clutching my books, I turned to survey the room, glad to see that none of the assholes from lunch were in this class. Leah sat in the back by the windows, but there weren’t any open seats near her, so I just nabbed the closest one to the door.
I wanted to be ready to bolt as soon as class was over.
As I sat, Leah flashed me a wide-eyed look, raising her eyebrows and leaning forward slightly. She was obviously trying to communicate something, but I had no clue what it was. I shook my head, and she grimaced, tapping her fingers on her desk in agitation. A new prickle of worry worked its way down my spine as I wondered what the hell she was so worked up about. But at least she was looking at me with something other than pure disdain. At this point, I’d take whatever shreds of good news I could get.
Instead of desks, we had shared tables in this class, and as soon as I sat down, the girl beside me scooted her stool away, as if I were unclean or something.
I gritted my teeth and ignored it, facing forward to listen to Mr. Young explain something that sounded like gibberish to me.
