Chapter Thirty-Six
Cade
T he problem with Mrs. Fawn’s class is that it’s full. Rykes’ social studies was the overflow slot and while I’m perfectly content to stand for an hour to avoid the prick, I’m not okay with Sky standing.
I was hoping we would get here early and avoid a confrontation, but I didn’t know how much Sky liked bagels. Mrs. Bennett always sets aside four for me at breakfast, putting them in a brown paper bag for me to collect if I’m caught up in the shack, and while I gave Sky two of them, I didn’t anticipate her to scarf them down like a feral dog. I ended up going back twice to get more. I make a mental note to tell Mrs. Bennett to start setting aside eight, and then begrudgingly let go of Sky’s hand to secure her a seat.
She glances around the room awkwardly, no doubt wondering where we are supposed to sit. Every one of the old oak desks is taken, and all eyes are on us. Pulling my hood lower, I cut past the kiss asses in front, and come to a halt in front of Caleb in the last row.
“Move,” I say, giving him the opportunity to comply.
But the sandy eyebrows of my assigned dorm mate raise in defiance.
“Yeah, right,” he scoffs.
I try to take a calming breath, as the stupidity of people never ceases to piss me off. I would think that getting his jaw rearranged would have taught him something about picking his battles, but it seems he’s too arrogant for life lessons.
My hand instinctively goes to my pocket, twitching to grip my blade. Am I going to have a repeat of last night? No. That was too close to ruining everything I’ve been working towards, and besides that, I’m also feeling much more level today. I’m aware this has everything to do with Sky, who is safely within my peripheral. All the madness that threatened to seal my coffin is dormant for the moment, satisfied by her proximity.
A prickle of sanity tells me I can’t keep an eye on her twenty-four-seven, but that’s a problem for whoever gets in my way next time. Nonetheless, something about holding the knife makes me feel better, especially when people piss me off.
Only… my pocket is empty.
I grit my teeth, remembering that in my moment of despair I gave away the only things that give me solace. I would have ripped my own heart out of my chest if she wanted it, if that would have kept her from hating me. Something about the idea of losing the way she looked at me had felt, in that moment, like losing actual solace. The knives were a paltry sacrifice to keep that from happening.
But then I was alone… and weaponless.
After Sky demanded I leave, I waited for the police to show up, resigned to my fate at the foot of her building. I waited for the red and blue lights to illuminate the campus, for uniforms to haul me away in cuffs. But the night stayed still and dark. I eventually realized Sky must have somehow talked her friend out of reporting me.
She protected me.
Not so different from when she had thought I was stealing ice cream. It’s an odd feeling to have someone on my side.
I could have gone back to the shack and grabbed another switchblade. I wanted another switchblade. But that would have meant leaving my watch at Lamb Hall, leaving her unprotected .
So, despite how crippling it feels to not have my knives, I roll my shoulders and suck it up.
“You don’t want to make this a thing,” I say, glaring down at Caleb.
“You think I’m afraid of you because you got off a sucker punch on me?” He stands, drawing more attention.
I can feel Mrs. Fawn’s eyes on my back, watching me, looking for any reason to nail my ass to the wall, just like the rest of the teachers. The headmistress told me as much. Their little staff meetings have become heated as of late, with my unacceptable behavior and lack of consequences starting a modern day lynch mob. They all want me out, regardless of my excellent grade point average. An assault on a faculty member is grounds for expulsion—an expulsion that did not happen because the headmistress has the final say. But I’m not stupid. I know that her power can only go so far.
I have to watch my step, have to tap into some of the restraint I’ve taught myself. I have to be smarter. Or else I’m fucked.
I let the glare slip off my face and replace it with faux confusion, an idea coming to mind.
“Sucker punch?” I raise my voice just enough for most of the class to hear, hoping Ms. Lane’s hearing aid is turned down.
If I play dumb, he will spell it out for everyone to hear, and then I can go for the throat, for the one place no guy can resist fighting over, especially with an audience.
“Oh, that’s right.” He nods in that cocky way that makes me want to smash his face in. “You probably don’t remember because of all the crazy pills they give you, being a mental patient and all.”
Red seeps into my vision, and I pierce my tongue with my teeth. Restraint. I have to have restraint. But this is exactly why I keep to myself. Who can have control against someone like this? Someone so vile and ignorant? It’s a fucking miracle I’ve had as much patience as I’ve had. I would love nothing more than to end us all right now.
But I can’t.
I have a plan that doesn’t end with a meager twenty deaths.
And I have Sky behind me, who needs a seat.
So, I don’t say anything— can’t say anything without losing my fucking shit anyway, and keep the mask of confusion on.
Luckily, he doesn’t need me to egg him on.
“Wow!” He laughs. “You are a fucking nutcase.”
Everyone spins in their seats, snickering at his insult, snickering at me. The nutcase. The fucking mental patient. I take slow breaths. Slow, steady breaths while digging my nails into the palm of my hand, and remind myself that it’s fine, remind myself about the crate under the workbench, remind myself what they all have in store.
They won’t be laughing for much longer.
“What exactly do you think I did?” I ask, barely holding back the rage, lacing the words with pure dubiety.
“You dislocated my jaw, you psychopathic fuck!”
There it is. That’s all I needed. I let the charade fall, and smirk, surprised how easily he fell into my trap.
“Oh shit, I did, didn’t I?” I lean in and put a palm on his shoulder. “Tell me, did it make it easier?”
He sneers down at my hand, and I take the opportunity to loosen my jaw. I don’t want to be tense for what comes next.
“Make what easier?” He eyes me with apprehension, as he should, but it’s too late now.
“Having a dislocated jaw…” I say. “It must have made it easier for you to suck all that dick.”
The few students closest to us laugh, and I watch as Caleb’s face turns an ugly shade of red.
Got him.
“Get the fuck off me, man!” He shoves me back, and I put my hands up in defense, hoping that Mrs. Fawn is watching this.
If there’s one button all insecure guys have, it’s the one that threatens their masculinity. Press it, and they feel like they have no choice but to defend themselves. The homophobia is honestly disgusting. But just another example of why I have to make it to graduation.
“Okay. Okay.” I pretend to be shaken. “I didn’t know you were still in the closet. My bad, buddy.”
“I’m not your fucking—”
I assume he says buddy as his fist connects with my jaw, but I don’t hear it. I’m too disappointed at the impact. My head doesn’t even swivel. Is that all he’s got?
“Caleb Longhorn!” Mrs. Fawn shouts.
But he’s still focused on me, seething with a tantrum that’s almost comical. He’s not even aware that I wanted him to hit me, that it’s just a ploy to get him out of class while keeping my own hands clean. Though, I was hoping for a little more, maybe something that could garner me some sympathy from Mrs. Fawn, something she could take back to the faculty meetings in my favor.
“Come on…” I taunt him under my breath, going for two for the price of one. “You can do better than that.”
“You’re fucked up in the head,” he huffs, eyes darting over my shoulder at our approaching teacher.
I can hear her walking cane clicking rapidly, and I realize I’m running out of time.
“Awh, is that anyway to talk to your lover?” I bait him.
That does it. He swings his elbow back with poor form and then lets his fist loose at my face. There’s a sickening crunch as his knuckles strike my jaw, and my lip splits. Blood floods my mouth, and I swear I hear Sky gasp. But she doesn’t need to worry. That wasn’t me taking an injury, that was all him.
Caleb cries out a plethora of profanities and cradles his hand to his chest, just as Ms. Lane huddles up behind me.
“You broke my fucking hand!” he yells.
“Serves you right,” Mrs. Fawn grumbles and waddles next to me.
“Let me see, Cade.” She braces her weight on the cane and reaches up to grasp my jaw.
“I’m fine.” I rear back, licking my lip and concealing the blood.
My intention is not to be sent to the infirmary, but to just get Caleb out of here without getting into trouble.
“Mhm.” She purses her lips and turns. “Well, Caleb, you know where the headmistress’s office is.”
She shoo’s a hand at him as he balks.
“I need to go to the infirmary. He broke my hand. ”
“Well, whose fault is that?” she asks, and clips her cane at his ankles. “Off you go.”