Chapter 3
I grab the girl pinned beneath me by her ponytail and pull. She lets out a shriek and swings her leg, trying to roll out from under me, but misses.
“Say it again,” I warn.
She throws her elbow back, connecting with my stomach, and I slump forward as the air leaves my lungs. Rolling on top of me, she switches our positions. “You’re a slut.”
“I’m gonna—”
My words are cut off when a sharp pain slices down my face.
“Break it up,” someone yells just before she’s hauled off of me by a teacher.
I run my hand over my face and find my fingers red.
The bitch scratched me.
Jumping to my feet, I lunge for her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” someone bellows as I feel a pair of hands grab my wrists and pull them behind my back.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I shout, trying to break out of their hold.
“Principal’s office—now,” the person behind me cracks, and I look over my shoulder, finding another teacher.
“I have to catch my bus,” I say, my gaze falling to the line of buses in front of the school and the waiting kids who are all watching us.
He tightens his grip on my wrists. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
The other teacher is already leading the girl inside, and I realize I’m not getting out of this.
“Fine,” I relent, yanking my arms forward. “But get your hands off me.”
I’m surprised when he lets go, not having expected him to actually listen. I turn toward him, and he winces when he sees my face.
“I’ll take you to the nurses office first.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, watching the buses pull away.
Shit.
He shakes his head. “I’d really feel better if you got that looked at.”
Reluctantly, I follow him to the nurses office. She cleans out the scratch, bandages it, and sends us on our way.
I trail after him in silence to the principal’s office, and he pulls open the door, ushering me inside. Dropping into the open chair, I look from the girl to Principal Hansley.
“Miss Barlowe,” he greets me. “How nice to see you again.”
I scoff, and his eyes narrow.
Principal Hansley is ancient. He was all of my siblings’ principal, too, and he’s judged me based on them since the first time he met me.
He shifts his attention to the girl next to me, and his face softens. “Sophia told me you attacked her while you were waiting for your buses.”
I turn toward her. “She looks fine to me.”
“She pulled my hair and threw me onto the ground,” the girl whines.
I bring my hand up to my face. “She got me back, so seems like we’re even.”
Principal Hansley leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Self-defense is not the same thing as initiating a fight.”
“It’s not like I did it for no reason. I don’t even know who she is.”
He levels me with a hard stare. “So, why did you do it then? What happened that made you think it was okay to assault someone?”
I wave my hand in her direction. “Come on; you’re calling that assault?”
He raises a brow. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
He lets out a long breath and turns to the girl, “Did you do something to get a reaction from Samantha?”
“I told her—”
“Sam,” I snap, cutting her off.
Principal Hansley tilts his head. “Excuse me?”
“Sam. My name is Sam. You know that. I tell you every time.”
He brings his focus back to the girl like I didn’t even say anything. “Continue,” he tells her.
She shifts in her seat and mutters, “I called her a slut.”
I watch for his reaction, but there’s nothing. No disgust. No shock. He just stares back at her like he isn’t surprised at all by what she just confessed.
He opens a drawer in his desk and says, “I see.” After writing something across the sheet, he hands it to me. “Two weeks of detention.”
“Two weeks? That’s basically the rest of the year.”
He pulls out another sheet of paper. “You’re lucky it’s not a suspension. End up here another time before the summer, and your luck will run out.” He slides the other piece of paper to the girl but doesn’t say anything.
“How long does she get?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“That’s bullshit. I bet you let her off with nothing.”
He snatches back my sheet and crosses something out. “You just earned yourself another week with that language.”
“Seriously?”
Jerking his head up, he points at the girl but keeps his eyes on me. “You might want to take a page from her book and learn to be quiet. You’re not doing yourself any favors.” He doesn’t give me any time to respond before he asks her, “Who am I calling to give you a ride home?”
After he calls her mother, Principal Hansley dials my home number. I wish he wouldn’t. I don’t want my father to pick up, but he pulls it from the system without asking.
We all sit awkwardly as it rings with no answer.
“Do you have anyone else I can call?” Principal Hansley asks with a smug look on his face. “What about Carson? He must have only just left.”
My brother Carson is a grade above me and the school’s star quarterback. He’s also a complete asshole, so I give him my oldest brother Johnny’s number instead.
It picks up on the second ring, and I sit back as he tells my brother what happened. After setting the phone down, Principal Hansley says, “Well, he didn’t sound very happy.”
I don’t respond, and silence stretches between us before he finally waves his hand toward the door, signaling that we can go. “Make better choices, Miss Barlowe. I don’t want to see you in here again.”
After waiting in the library for thirty minutes, I figure my brother is probably here by now, so I pack up my bag and head for the front of the school.
Pushing open the door, I squint against the sun and wince as the fresh cut on my face pulls with the movement.
My brother takes a step forward from his place leaning against the car door, a cigarette perched between his fingers. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I answer.
He looks from my bandage, to the school, then back to my face again.
“Really, Johnny, I’m fine.” My attention catches on his hand. “Can I get one of those?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Why not?” I groan.
“Because you’re in trouble. What did I tell you about fighting?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I huff.
“It never is,” he says, stomping the cigarette out with his boot and rounding the car. “Come on, or I’m gonna be late.”
“Late for what?”
He throws the door open. “A job thing.”
“What kind of job thing?” I ask, sliding into my seat.
“The kind that pays money.”
I roll my eyes.
“So what happened with this fight?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He eyes me wearily. “You can tell me anything.”
“I know.”
He arches a brow, and I realize he’s not going to let this go.
“She said something to me.”
“Something you couldn’t have just walked away from?”
I snort. “Would you actually have wanted me to?”
“What’d she say?”
My shoulders drop. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
We pull up to a light, and he turns toward me, scanning my face like he’s looking for a clue. “All right, but if you change your mind, I’m here.”
I dip my chin. “Thanks.”
He leans over and messes with my hair. “You’re a good kid. Okay?”
I swat his hand away. “Okay, Dad.”
“Fuck you.” He laughs. “I’m trying to be nice.” He throws the pack of cigarettes at me. “Here, I’ll balance it out with some corruption.”
A laugh slips from my lips as I flip up the center console to look for a lighter. Finding one, I glance up just as we pull through an open gate.
My stomach sinks and my head whips toward him. “The job is here?”