Chapter 2 #2
I move as fast as I can down the hall without actually sprinting.
There are only three classes for sophomores that are held this hour.
The science class that Mags and I should be in right now, an AP Chemistry class that I know Billy is way too dumb for, so that leaves English with Mrs. P.
I take the next left, and when I clear the corner, my gaze is locked on the rooms to the right.
Third one down is one-twenty-one. English.
I don’t bother knocking, don’t bother with pleasantries or some fake excuse as to why I need to see Billy in the hall.
I whip open the door, taking two steps into the room and prop my hands on my hips.
I scour the room, looking for the little coward.
“Mr. Hart, can I help you with something?”
I don’t bother looking toward Mrs. P. I can tell by the tone in her voice she’s ticked right off that I barged in here.
And considering she has card games with my mom every Thursday, I already know I’m going to be in deep shit.
My eyes lock on the back row to one particular student who has his hoodie over his head, cowering low on his desk to hide behind the girl in front of him.
Typical bully. Always willing to pick on those he sees as weaker. Let’s see how he measures up to a man his own size.
I make my way down the row, and I’m just about to reach out for him, to rip him out of the chair by his shirt, when he stands abruptly.
The desk is pushed between us, and his eyes are frantic, chest heaving. “It was a joke, Hart. She needs to learn to take a fucking joke.”
Mrs. P shouts at the both of us, telling me to leave, but I push the desk to the side with both hands, letting the metal feet scrape across the worn linoleum. “I think you need to learn a fucking lesson.”
The students shuffle around us, Mrs. P still yelling the closer I get to Billy.
He lunges at me and I raise my hands to block him.
He shoves the desk back in my direction, and I lift a foot to stop it, shoving it back.
“Quit the bullshit, Billy. You’re coming with me to apologize to Mags, and if you’re lucky and she’s accepting, we’ll leave it at that. ”
“I’m not apologizing to that prissy bitch.”
My vision turns red, and I lunge for him. His arms come out to block me, but not before I curl my arm around his neck, bending him down in a forced headlock. He punches at my thighs, and my leg buckles.
I tighten my grip, and I pull, leading him toward the back door.
A crowd of students follow, and it’s a sweaty mess—me, trying to gain control of Billy, and him, trying to punch and pull his way out of my hold.
He delivers a firm punch right to my stomach, knocking the wind right out of me.
It’s enough that my grip around his neck falters, and he spins to face me.
His arm is raised, fist curled and he swings forward, clocking me perfectly in the side of my left eye.
My vision flashes white, a sting slicing through my face, and through blurred vision, I see him coming at me again.
I lower my body, dropping my shoulder as I lunge at him, shoving him into the wall. Some students around us are cheering, some are screaming, and it’s enough that the hall starts to fill as other students peek out of their classrooms to check out the commotion.
Billy manages another hit to my jaw, and I’ve about had enough of this shit.
I get him under me, my hands holding his face still, and I want to punch him, to have him hurt physically as much as Mags is hurting emotionally.
But then I imagine her face, the shocked expression she’d have if she saw me hurt someone.
Knowing how disgusted she’d be with me if I sunk to his level has me loosening my grip on him.
I rise to my feet, grabbing him by the neck of his hoodie and pulling him up.
I have about six inches of height on him thanks to my recent growth spurt, and unlike him, I have some muscle on me.
I drag his panting sweaty ass down the hall, past the lockers, and toward the cafeteria.
The back of his neck is firmly in my grip, and I have him slightly hunched over by the time the bathroom doors come into view.
Magnolia’s mom is here, having just arrived with a tote bag in hand.
She stands with McKenna at the mouth of the bathroom.
Both of their heads turn at the commotion, and Mrs. Banks’s eyes nearly pop out of her head at the sight of me practically dragging Billy by his neck.
“She still in there?” I ask McKenna, and she nods, eyes wide as she steps out of the way.
I shove Billy, and he stumbles, taking a few steps before righting himself. Ushering to the mouth of the bathroom door, I pause with my arm out, waiting for him to man up.
“You’re a psycho, Lukas!” he bites, and I nod.
When it comes to keeping Magnolia happy?
Yeah, I’m a psycho. Because the truth is, I have fallen in love with my best friend.
Maybe I’m a fool, wanting to be her best friend even though it kills me to not be anything more.
But I’ll die a happy fool if it means I have her trust, if I can help her and protect her, just like I am now.
“Still waiting.” I usher again.
Billy rolls his eyes, pursing out an exhausted breath as he takes another step toward the bathroom. He cocks his head, refusing to meet Mrs. Banks’s eye contact as he calls out, “Magnolia, you in there?”
The entire crowd is silent, except for the principal, Mr. Brown, who has emerged from his office with the help of Mrs. P.
They’re working their way through the crowd, forcing students to go back to their classrooms. We have seconds before they reach us, and I shove Billy’s shoulder, urging him to get on with it.
“I’m sorry, Magnolia,” he spits out, raising his arms in my direction. “Satisfied?”
“Say it like you mean it,” I grit. And when I curl my fist around the hood of his sweatshirt to usher him a step closer, I hear the principal call out to me.
“Mr. Hart. Mr. Hart! Enough.”
I’m about to accept defeat when Magnolia emerges from the bathroom.
Her face is washed, skin still slightly pink from all the crying.
Her hair seems brushed, and she’s wearing different clothes than she came in this morning.
She hands her soiled clothes back to her mom, who immediately tucks them into the tote bag, and then they both turn to stare at Billy.
“I said, I was sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she asks, her voice unusually calm. “For what you said? For being a dick?”
He gives a pitiful shrug. “Both.”
“You—” Her gaze flicks to me for the first time, and she gasps, a hand flying over her mouth when she sees the side of my face.
I tighten my grip on his shirt, using the last of my adrenaline to lift my arm up, the movement practically making Billy stand on the tips of his toes.
His arms flail about to keep balance. “Okay, okay, okay. Christ. I’m sorry I made fun of you!
Okay! I’m sorry! It was stupid and I won’t do it again! ”
I take one more glance at Magnolia, and she looks over to me, a silent conversation between the two of us that she accepts his apology.
Her look is enough that I lower my arm, loosening my grip on his sweatshirt, and letting Billy step away from me for the first time since I cornered him in the classroom.
“Mr. Hart,” Mr. Brown booms again, this time coming to stand in front of Billy and me.
“Both of you. My office. Now. Everyone else,” he raises his head to the few students who dared to ignore him the first time, “get back to class immediately. Anyone caught roaming these halls in the next ten seconds will earn themselves a week suspension—just like these two.”