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Chapter Twenty-two
Elena
“Slut.”
“Fish cunt.”
“Whorebag.”
“Cheep prostatoot.”
I was really worried by the spelling errors in that last one. The standards for admission at Savage U were obviously slipping. Then again, only a child would deface a chair to express their dislike of a classmate. I could forgive a small child for misspelling “prostitute.”
From the snickering originating from Kayleigh and Dickweed, it hadn’t been a child who’d taken Sharpie to my regular chair in New Ventures. They’d scrawled all manner of insults over the seat and back. I could only guess Abby had been tasked to distract Professor Seavers while they got their graffiti on.
It had been a week since the gum incident. They’d laid relatively low, only resorting to name-calling and frowny faces. When I told Kayleigh she was going to have terrible wrinkles from all that scowling, she immediately halted her facial intimidation campaign. Abby wasn’t so easily thwarted, but I suspected she was already on a bi-yearly regimen of Botox anyway.
I took a picture of theircleverinsults and calmly switched chairs for the one beside it. I didn’t trust that whatever they’d used to write with was actually Sharpie and wouldn’t rub off on my clothes.
As soon as I sat down in my replacement chair, their true plan became apparent. I’d fallen for a red herring, immediately followed by falling on my ass. My chair gave way, and I splatted on the ground, but not before hitting my chin on the table in front of me.
That smarted.
Sal was right there, crouching down and taking my hand. I was seeing stars, so I needed a minute for my head to clear.
“Elena? Are you okay? You smacked your chin really hard.”
My laugh was dry and weak to my ears. “I know. I was there.”
Soon, most of the class was gathering around me, including Professor Seavers. I wasn’t embarrassed at falling, but being fussed over like I was a victim wasn’t my jam. They probably would have stopped if I’d gotten up, but each time I tried, my head went foggy.
“Shit.” I clutched my jaw and crown. “I’m fine. I just need a minute. Please.”
Sal took my arm. “Let me help you into my chair. I tested it for you. It’s safe.”
Seavers took my other arm, and I hated every second of her kindness. This wasn’t her job. She should have been enriching our minds, not scraping a girl off her classroom floor.
Once I was securely seated in Sal’s chair, he tipped my water bottle into my mouth. God, this kid was the real deal. He never hit on me, and once he’d gotten comfortable with me, he talked to me like a fellow human and not a walking vagina. Sitting beside him was one of the wisest decisions I’d made in a long time.
My jaw still hurt, but after a minute or two, the fog started clearing out of my brain.
One of my classmates pointed to my chin and hissed. “There’s some blood there. You should probably clean that up.”
I swiped at the underside of my face. My hand came away streaked with red. If I scarred from this, I was going to riot. I’d gotten through competitive cheerleading without so much as a sprained ankle, but in one college course, I’d gotten my face smashed twice and my shoulder practically dislocated. This was for the ugly, raggedy, feather-bare birds.
Fortunately our TA had a fully equipped first aid kit with everything my injured heart could desire. I bandaged my little chinny-chin up and held an ice pack there, giving everyone a big smile.
“I’m fine now, I promise,” I told them. “I’m sorry for interrupting class.”
Seavers’s flinty gaze swept over the Pi Sig boys, who’d been suspiciously quiet during my ordeal, stopping on Kayleigh and Abby, who’d been suspiciously solicitous.
“Surely all of you are aware this classroom comes equipped with security cameras.” That was all she said, and it was more than enough. If these buffoons thought they’d get away with blatant sabotage of my chair, they were even dumber than they looked.
Class went on, a thick tension hanging in the air, especially from the boys behind me. I wondered which of them had been the one to hold the screwdriver. I had a feeling Dickweed might’ve been the mastermind, but one of his minions had most likely done the dirty work. I just wasn’t lucky enough for it to have been him.
At the end of class, Sal and I stayed in our seats after everyone else filed out, checking our calendars for times we could meet to work on our midterm project. We’d been assigned a startup that would provide a luxury summer camp experience for adults and use their profits to send underprivileged children to summer camp. We had set up a meeting with the founder for the end of the week.
“Are you okay?” he asked for the hundredth time as we packed up our stuff.
