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He’s infuriating.
I clench my jaw, wishing I could march right over there and smack the smirk off his face.
Colton is a completely different person when we’re at home. It’s as though in the comfort of his own home he has a soul that’s kind, caring, and filled with confusion—it’s not so bad. Here at school, it’s as though I don’t even exist. He treats me like the trash he always claims me to be, and soon enough my patience is going to wear thin and I’m going to snap.
Patience has never been my strong suit. Just ask Mia Bodegraven from third grade who was on the receiving end of my most iconic tantrum yet. She didn’t think I was cool enough to be invited to her stupid pamper birthday party and told the whole school that I had boy germs because I prefer to hang out with them. I showed that bitch. I stole mom’s phone and texted all the parents of the kids she’d invited and told them the party had been canceled and then I had my own party, and guess who wasn’t invited? I like to think I was a conniving kid and it’s only helped me to become the baddest bitch these fuckers have ever dealt with. Oh, not to mention that I might have also punched her in the nose when my mom found out and demanded I apologize to the little cow. That was also my very first suspension. I was so proud of myself.
Colton drops down into his desk chair at the back of the classroom as other students begin to gravitate toward him, all wanting his attention, all wanting to hear what he has to say and then claim it to be gospel.
A quick thirty seconds pass before Mr. Hall finally walks in and breaks up the gag-fest at the back of the room. Milo hushes beside me but refuses to finish his story until every last word is out. Apparently, our wedding will be set in the Hamptons during spring on his father’s holiday property. He already has a caterer and photographer in mind, though the ceremony part has to be in a church otherwise Milo’s grandmother would die of embarrassment, and we couldn’t possibly have that happen, especially on our wedding day.
Mr. Hall gets started on today’s lesson while I try to ignore the growing presence at the back of the room. My whole body screams to turn and look at him, just to see if he’s as aware of me as I am of him. Maybe I could drop a pen and sneak a peek.
Shit. What is wrong with me? I need to get a grip and pretend he’s not even there. Out of sight out of mind. Yeah, that’s a load of bullshit. Whoever came up with that stupid saying clearly never had a spider disappear in their bedroom.
A loud screeching tears through the room and sends chills down my spine. My head whips around as every student in the classroom sits up a little straighter.
It’s an alarm.
Fuck.
Panic sits heavily in my bones as silence falls across the room.
No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening again.
“What are you doing?” I yell at Mr. Hall who stands at the front of the room doing absolutely nothing. In fact, no one is making a fucking move. They should be diving into the corners of the room, away from windows.
This is the real out of sight out of mind. This is the ultimate fucking test.
I look around in horror before it becomes startlingly obvious. These guys have never had to deal with a threat like this before. They probably just assume this is the kind of shit that only happens in movies but for me, it’s all too real.
I fly across the room so fast that I don’t even remember moving. “Get down,” I yell, diving against the classroom door and slamming it shut while simultaneously closing the blinds on the little window at the top of the door.
After turning the latch I look around in a panic to find all the guys watching me in confusion while slowly rising to their feet. “Oceania,” Mr. Hall scolds. “What do you think you’re doing? Get off the floor and move out of the way.”
“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? Why aren’t you doing anything? Can’t you hear that alarm? There’s a fucking shooter in the school and you’re screwing around, wasting time. You’re going to be responsible if one of these fuckwits get shot—”
“Miss Munroe.”
For fuck’s sake. This guy is a joke. He should be doing something to help. All this time I thought this school was so superior and it turns out they don’t even have policies and procedures in place to deal with these kinds of emergencies. Back in Breakers Flats, we were running these drills every two weeks after Shawn Landers brought a gun to school and opened fire at his history teacher. He missed by miles and was tackled to the ground by a senior student then promptly knocked the fuck out, but I’ll never forget the fear that rattled through my bones. Hearing random gunshots around Breakers Flats isn’t exactly a new thing, but having it inside the school that was filled with innocent lives was terrifying.
