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She stared at me for a minute. “All right. Wait here.”
I turned and found Roman sitting on the bench outside the principal’s office. Staring at me.
“What are you doing, Juliet?” he asked in a low voice when I approached.
“Someone needs to tell the truth about what happened.”
He stared at me as if no one had ever offered to stand up for him before. “Don’t get in trouble over me. I’m not worth it.”
My fingers nudged his chin, trying to angle his head back so I could see his eyes. Roman was stubborn though. “You’re wrong.”
Behind us, the door opened and the secretary spoke to Mr. W.
“Juliet, come on inside.”
I felt the weight of Roman’s stare with every step I took toward the open door.
Chapter Four
Roman
Juliet stunned me. Not only was she beautiful on the outside, she was pure beauty on the inside.
I glanced down at my bruised knuckles, already covered in a life’s worth of scars.
No one had ever stood up for me before. Not my parents before they died, not my grandmother when the state took me away from her, not my teachers who saw the bruises on me from my first set of foster parents, not my “good” foster parents that I prayed would adopt me, not the social workers or the lawyers appointed to me by the system. No one.
Juliet barely knew me, yet she’d done more for me in one day than anyone else in my entire life.
The door opened, and Juliet stepped out, a whole lot more confident than when she went inside.
The principal spoke quietly to his secretary for a second then motioned me over.
“Miss Hayworth explained that you were defending yourself and that the other student almost hurt her as well.” His eyes scanned my face to see if I was surprised. If Juliet lied.
“Yes, sir.”
“No more trouble from you, Roman. It’s only your first day.”
“I’ll do my best.”
That didn’t seem to reassure him, but he dismissed me anyway.
Juliet waited in the hallway for me. Smiled when she saw me.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked, falling into step beside her. “Where’s your next class?”
“AP English.”
I pulled out my schedule. “That’s where I’m headed too.”
She raised an eyebrow as if it surprised her that I had been placed in an advanced class.
“What’s wrong? I don’t look like someone who’d take advanced anything, do I?”
She shrugged. “That’s not what I was going to say, but since you said it, yes.”
Feeling fired up after the fight and narrowly escaping trouble, I gave her a cocky wink. “I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.”
Her lips curled into a playful smile. “I’m sure you are.”
Trading jokes back and forth on our way to class soothed me somehow. I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t even want to punch one of Doug’s smug buddies when we passed him in the hallway. That’s the effect Juliet had on me.
The class was about to discuss Death of a Salesman. I’d already read it at my last school which seemed to make the cute little English teacher happy.
A kid everyone, even the teacher, called Stubby raised his hand first. I recognized him as one of Doug’s sycophantic friends.
“It’s about the fakeness of the American dream. Like that Biff dude should’ve been more successful, but he’s not because it’s all a lie.” He sat back looking like a proud puppy who’d just taken his first piss outside.
I’d taken the seat directly behind Juliet—of course—and was pleasantly surprised when she raised her hand.
“Biff’s an unemployed loser who peaked in high school. He thought his looks would open doors to opportunities he didn’t deserve. He wasn’t willing to put in the work.”
I was hanging on every word out of her mouth and couldn’t help jumping in. “But by the end, I think it’s clear the American dream isn’t dead. You just have to work for it.”
“Very good, Roman, but next time raise your hand.” The teacher scowled at me.
Typical.
Juliet turned slightly and gave me a smile.
After class, she packed up her things slowly. I held out my hand for her bag and she tilted her head at me. “Where you headed next?”
“Gym.”
Shit, I wouldn’t mind watching her running around in the tiny gym shorts I’d seen other girls wearing in my class.
“I’ll walk you.”
“Don’t you have a class?”
“Technology. It’s right by the gym, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Let’s go.”
She handed me her backpack and I slung it over my shoulder, marveling that she managed to lug it around all day. “You smuggling a body in this thing? It must weigh as much as you,” I teased.
“Usually I don’t like stopping at my locker during the day.” She blushed and looked away. “Never had a good reason to before,” she said in a softer voice.
It says a lot about how gone I was over this girl that it took me a minute to realize she was talking about me.
