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“Don’t worry. I’m not expecting anything good to happen. And I’m not. Fucking. Leaving. So you and your friends better watch the hell out.”
Not daring to take another breath, I snatched my backpack from the floor and hurried down the stairs without looking back.
Chapter 5
The Princes must’ve decided what to do about me overnight—I wonder what that fucking meeting was like—because by Wednesday morning, the whole school seemed to have gotten word that it was open season on me again. Not everyone jumped at the chance to torture me, but enough people did that traversing the halls of Oak Park felt like walking through a minefield.
When I was walking out of the locker room after gym, Ruby Bratton grabbed my ponytail just as Sable came at me with a pair of scissors. I yanked so hard against Ruby’s grip that it felt like half my hair came out in her hand, but I managed to avoid getting my ponytail chopped off. When Sable came at me a second time, I fought her for the scissors, and she ended up with a long, thin cut down her forearm.
“Oh my god, you fucking psycho!” she screamed as I brandished the scissors I’d stolen like a knife. “What is your problem? You’re insane!”
“Yeah?” I panted. “Then stop trying to cut my hair off.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, two red spots flaring high on her cheeks. Then she grabbed Ruby’s arm and spun on her heel, dragging the other girl out of the locker room.
The room was quiet as I deliberately stuck the scissors in my backpack. I was pretty sure none of them had expected me to fight back that hard.
Good. The Princes might’ve given everyone the green light to bully me, but they needed to know it wouldn’t be that easy this time around.
I kept the scissors in my backpack during Calculus II, and in my last class of the day, History, I chose the seat behind Cole. His blue gaze flicked up to watch me as I passed by, but I kept my focus trained straight ahead, ignoring the look he gave me. I’d had to hustle over from Craydon Hall, so there were only about two minutes left before class started—but Mr. Baldree wasn’t in the room yet.
My fingers shook with nerves as I pulled the scissors out of my backpack, my heart thrumming so hard in my chest I was sure the whole room could hear it. A smear of Sable’s blood still marred the top blade of the scissors, and for a second, the sight of it made my stomach turn.
This is fucked up. This is all so fucked up.
But I hadn’t started it.
I just wanted to end it.
And sometimes the only way out was through.
I moved before I could let myself think—before I could worry about the dozen different ways this could go wrong. I stood, leaning over the desk attached to my chair, and slid the scissors through the top of Cole’s silky black hair, as close to the scalp as I could manage. He jerked as soon as he felt the touch of cold metal, but I was already squeezing the handle, closing the sharp blades around his hair. There was a satisfying snick as the blades met, and pieces of dark hair rained down like snowflakes.
I’d gotten a good-sized chunk right off the top of his head.
Cole turned around in his seat, his hand already going to his head, and the look on his face was so full of wrath that for a second, all I could picture was him in the fight ring, fists flying with violent precision over and over and over.
I blinked, fear liquifying my veins, but I didn’t move. Several students around us had gasped when I cut his hair, and now the room was deadly silent.
“Idaho.” Cole’s voice was a deep rumble, heavy and dark. “What the fuck did you just do?”
Ignoring the trembling of my hands, I thunked the scissors down on the desk. Little pieces of his hair stuck to the streak of blood on the blade
. “I told you. Whatever you do to me, I’ll do to you. And since you four run this place, that means whatever anyone does to me, I’ll do to one of you.”
Mr. Baldree walked in, hesitating in the doorway as he noticed the unnaturally quiet room. His gaze scanned the rows of desks, trying to figure out the source of the tension. “What’s going on in here?”
No one spoke. Then Cole’s desk scraped loudly against the floor as he stood. The intensity of the glare he was leveling at me didn’t fade, and having him loom so tall above me only made my impulse to run even stronger.
But instead, I shook my head and murmured quietly, “It’s only hair, Cole. That’s nothing.”
He didn’t say a word, just turned and stalked toward the door. Mr. Baldree gave him an annoyed look that turned to confusion as he noticed the near-bald patch on top of Cole’s head. None of the kids in the classroom laughed as the dark-haired boy passed by, but it looked like a few wanted to, and a savage smile pulled at my lips. Cole’s blue-black hair looked like a reverse mohawk—for a guy who’d built his entire reputation on being intimidating and stoic, he did look fucking ridiculous.
I’d meant what I said to him. It was just fucking hair. If the girls in the locker room had managed to take off my ponytail, it wouldn’t even have made the top ten worst things that’d happened to me in my life. He’d grow his hair back in a few weeks, and it’d be like the cut had never happened.
But on some level, it was more than that.
It was a crack in his facade.
