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Blaise shrugged it off like it was nothing. “And my mom didn’t have to do what she did to you this morning. You don’t fucking deserve shit like that,” he said. “Nobody does. I get that now. So, I left.”
“What do you mean, you left?”
“Fuck my parents,” Blaise growled. “I’m not staying there any longer.”
“Where are you going to go?” Piper asked.
Again, Blaise shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”
ChapterSixty-Three
BLAISE
Halfway through lunch, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I rolled my eyes and pulled it out, expecting it to be Mom or Dad demanding that I come home tonight because they wanted me to chat with their lawyer about the Skylar situation.
Instead, it was my uncle.
Callan: Meet me in my class.
I stared at the text message and sighed through my nose, wanting this drama to be over already. It was bad enough that I’d had to deal with Mom’s bullshit this morning. But Callan knew who was trying to pin this on me. I couldn’t miss talking to him.
While Vera might’ve let me sit next to her during lunch, I highly doubted that she wanted me to kiss her goodbye before I met up with Callan. So, I gently patted her knee under the table and leaned forward.
“My car. After school, Sunshine.”
She curled her lips into a small smile and tucked some strands of hair behind her ear, nodding at me. “I’ll be there.”
“You’d better.”
Once I dumped my half-eaten lunch in the trash, I ignored the whispers around me and walked out of the room. Principal Vaughn stood right outside the cafeteria in the hallway, chatting with another teacher with his arms crossed.
“Mr. Harleen,” he muttered. “What are you doing?”
“Shut the fuck up, Vaughn,” I growled, walking past him and down the hallway toward Callan’s class.
I expected Vaughn to say something back, but he was smart and decided to keep his mouth closed.
I was so sick of people talking shit about me. If he had said something, I would’ve probably socked him in the mouth. And I wouldn’t have regretted it either. Principal Vaughn had more than that coming to him.
After walking up a flight of stairs, I found Callan’s classroom and knocked twice on the door. He opened it after the second knock and tugged me into the room by the collar, locking the door behind me.
“What information do you have?” I asked him, not wanting to waste time.
Callan sighed through his nose and walked back to his desk. “You’re in deep shit.”
“I didn’t fucking do anything.”
“I know that.”
“Well, who the fuck did it then?”
“It was a job,” he said.
“You? You fucking killed her?!” I asked, eyes bugging out of my head. “You?!”
“No, not me,” he said, clenching his jaw. “The mob. I don’t take jobs involving students.”
“Why is the Redwood mob in on it? What’d they want with her?”
