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“Whoops,” Presley comments, walking backwards away from me. His frosty eyes are smiling with no amount of humor. “Oh never mind, it’s just trash.”
His friend from the desk beside him laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
I give him the finger and figure I could probably take him in a fight if I have to.
“Bye, Justin Timberfake,” I call after him and Kenan snorts. “What did you need from me, Kenan?”
“I want to know about the climbing and the arrest. What happened? Why did it happen? Who did you kill?”
I brush past him. “I was running from the cops, I climbed the building, I got caught, it was all a misunderstanding. End of story.”
“That’s it? A misunderstanding?”
“They took the cuffs off me a minute after putting them on. Clearly not a murderer or a thief.”
He follows me, still clutching my schedule which I snatch back and try to follow, but it’s so hard. “You’re going the wrong way.”
I mutter a curse and turn on my heel. He directs me to my next class but I can see he’s upset that there isn’t more to the story. This is why he quickly loses interest and waves at a friend.
I’m not here to be the weekly entertainment.
Next class flies and I don’t make any connections there, though I also don’t try, so it’s to be expected. Misha avoids me in the hall during the short break before third period. I do the work, keep my head down, and try not to look at Presley who seems to have the same seat in every class.
He glares at me every chance he gets and I feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull for almost the entire class.
I don’t know what his problem is. Or maybe I do, but still, this all feels a bit dramatic.
At lunch I was hoping he’d go to Wendy’s so I can at least get something to eat, but my luck ran out the day I was born. I don’t know why I thought I could ever be so fortunate now.
Sitting alone at a table by the door, just in case I need a quick escape, I’m surprised when Presley takes space on the tabletop and has a small sip of his drink. I look at his profile, wondering what he wants. He’s quite handsome, likely the most handsome guy I’ve seen his age. I bet he’s a model, he looks familiar. He’s probably some teenage Instagram sensation. It’s not that I don’t do the whole social networking thing, it’s just that I’m more of a poster than a viewer.
I love posting parkour videos and dance videos. Though I rarely show my face, it gives me some sense of self-worth when people compliment my skills.
“My dad got suspended,” he tells me, sipping his drink through the straw again. I watch his thick, padded, perfectly curved lips as they wrap around the straw. “Because of you.”
I don’t speak but I do gasp when his drink somehow finds its way down the front of my school shirt, drenching me from neck to navel. Fuck. That’s so cold.
I remain seated, seething, humiliated, cold, wet in the bad way, and gritting my teeth. He shakes the empty paper cup, ridding it of the last few drops.
His other buddy, a guy who is just as attractive to look at, because God forbid any of them be ugly, sits on the table too and smiles down at me. His hand pushes back his styled brown hair and his chocolate-brown eyes twinkle with excitement. I’m flanked, both of their feet rest in the chairs either side of me. “Carter Denzell. It’s nice to meet you, Mallory Newman.”
“How do you know my—?”
“Ah ah ah,” Carter cuts me off and pinches the end of my nose with his finger and thumb. I slap his hand away, still seething. “You don’t ask the questions here, little psycho. We do.”
I glance at the approaching people. I am so outnumbered.
“Let this be a warning. We know about you. We know all you’ve done and where you’ve been and we don’t want you here.” His tone is mocking and warning, like a movie narrator, or a villain at the end when they spill their angle to the good guy. Not that I’m the good guy, he just has that tone.
Presley nods his agreement, a smug smile on his face.
“You fuck with one of us,” he tells me and their crew form a line at the end of the table. A bunch of mismatched teens in matching uniforms thinking they’re big and hard because they are many and I’m only one.
“You fuck with all of us,” they all finish in synch and the entire cafeteria goes silent. A pin drop could be heard. Nobody moves and the cult continue to stare me down.
