Chapter One Edith #2
Jason has his varsity jacket on like it’s a permanent part of him. I wrinkle my nose at the pungent scent of his sweat and way too much cologne. I’ve always been sensitive to smell, but his makes my headache even worse, which I didn’t think was possible.
Keep quiet, I remind myself. Don’t cause trouble. I do my best to extract myself without causing a scene.
The only time a good girl ever shows her teeth is when she smiles.
“Hey, sorry, I’d better get to class.”
Ignoring my obvious discomfort, Jason leans against my locker, using his body to block my escape. “Hold on a minute.” He leans closer, lowering his head toward mine. Personal space isn’t a thing to him either. “Louis bragged you were making out with him. That true?”
I blow out a breath. Other than running, kissing cute boys is one of the few things that make me feel good. Dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin—I need to get those happy hormones somehow. And I can’t seem to resist, even if I’d be better off avoiding boys completely.
“You aren’t my boyfriend.”
His eyes darken. To Jason, I’m playing hard to get, and he hates losing more than anything. He already won over all the popular girls in school, but that isn’t enough for him. He’s the type of person who needs to be loved by everyone, since he’s incapable of loving himself.
“Is Louis?” Jason demands.
“No.” I force another smile, surprised my teeth haven’t cracked yet. “Like I said, I don’t do relationships.”
Least of all with you, I silently add. Why would I ever want to be in a relationship after what happened to my parents? Mom could never leave because she loved Dad. I never want to end up in a situation like that. As long as I don’t care, I can’t be trapped.
I move around Jason, determined not to be late for class.
He grabs my arm. “We’re not done here, Edith.”
“Don’t touch me.” I bite out the words, struggling to remain calm and collected. All I can think of is how many times my dad put his hands on Mom without her permission. “Please,” I add, already trying to smooth things over, so I won’t make him angrier.
Just like Mom used to.
Jason tightens his grip on me. “You had no problem with me touching you before.”
Suddenly it feels like a hundred degrees in here. My blood is boiling.
“It’s called consent,” I tell him, my temples throbbing. “And it can be taken away at any time. Including right now.”
With a sudden burst of strength, I yank free of him.
“Whoa, whoa.” Jason laughs, but he sounds a little nervous. “Calm down. I barely touched—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” My voice is practically a growl.
I hate those words more than anything. You need to calm down, Dad used to tell Mom on the rare occasion she couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. Funny how that never applied to him, though. His anger was never the problem.
Hers was.
“Look, I’m just trying to talk.” Jason moves closer. “Stop being so hysterical.”
I back up slowly. “Get. Away. From. Me.”
Jason doesn’t listen. He closes the distance in a stride, grabbing for me again. My head is pounding so hard I can barely stay standing. His hand is large and strong as he reaches for me, just like when Dad—
My palm connects with Jason’s cheek with a loud smack. As I hit him, my nails look suddenly… wrong. They’re no longer nails but light-colored claws, long and thick and sharp. Claws that leave long slashes across his cheek, bright blood welling against pale skin.
Something inside me snarls with violent satisfaction.
Jason’s hand flies to his face, his eyes wide. “You cut me, you fucking bitch.”
“No.” I freeze in shock. “I slapped you, that’s…”
Doubt seizes me. It’s not possible. I didn’t cut him. Did I? I stare down at my shaking hands. They look normal again. My nails are short and round and pink, the edges ragged from where I’ve chewed on them. “I-I…”
“Holy shit,” a student says, whipping out his phone.
“Did you see that?” another asks.
“No fucking way.”
Students crowd around us, their phones pointing at me in accusation. Suddenly, I feel like an animal backed into a corner, scared and angry with no way out. My face prickles, hot with shame. Where was everyone when Jason was grabbing me?
“What’s going on here?” Our history teacher, Mr. Smith, works his way through the crowded hall. “What happened?”
I turn to him, desperate. “Mr. Smith, Jason grabbed—”
“She cut me,” Jason says, blood trickling down his cheek. “Bitch has a knife.”
I recoil at his words. “What?”
Bright red drops splatter over the tile floor.
Time rewinds around me. The splattered blood becomes a pool, sticky under my slippers as I take a tentative step into my parents’ room ten years ago. Mom lies there, lifeless; Dad stands there, a knife in his hand.
Tears well in my eyes, and the scene blurs.
I’m back in the hall at school again, staring at Jason and Mr. Smith.
I shake my head frantically, trying to rid myself of the memory. “No, I hate knives. I wouldn’t—”
“That’s a very serious allegation,” Mr. Smith says, examining Jason’s bloody cheek. He turns to me, his voice deepening just like my dad’s would whenever he got angry. “Bringing weapons to school is illegal.”
“But I didn’t!”
My gaze darts between the faces of my classmates. Maddy. Jason. All these onlookers. Someone must have seen what happened. But Maddy looks terrified. They all do.
It takes me a moment to realize what they’re so scared of.
Me.
“Where is it?” Mr. Smith demands. “The weapon?”
“I-I don’t have one,” I say.
But as I stare at my hands, I’m no longer sure that’s true. I may not have held a knife, but hands can be weapons too. So can claws. All my anger evaporates, leaving me cold with terror. Am I finally losing it?
Mr. Smith glares at me. “Go to the principal’s office right now, young lady.”
A weight presses down on my chest until I can barely breathe. This cannot be happening. I’ve always been a good daughter, a good student, a good girl. I kept quiet and smiled and laughed. I made myself small, so small, until it felt like there was nothing left of me.
I did everything right.
So why are things falling apart again?
“This isn’t like you, Edith.” Principal Matthews is just as large and intimidating as the mahogany desk he sits behind.
He’s right. I’ve always been “a pleasure to have in class.” Until now.
I lower my gaze, unable to meet his eyes as he continues, “I don’t know what you were thinking, assaulting another student with a weapon. ”
When I look up from the desk, I see my dad sitting there.
His eyes hold a threat—the threat that I’m just like him.
I flinch, and Principal Matthews is himself again. “Where is the weapon?”
Tears well up, but I blink them back quickly, not wanting to let him see me cry. “I don’t have one.”
“Wherever you hid it, it doesn’t matter,” Principal Matthews says sternly. “It’s only a matter of time before we uncover it, and even if we don’t, Jason’s wound is evidence enough. Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”
“I am!” I choke on a sob. “Why would I do that? I have a meet on Saturday. Please, the cross-country team needs me. I’m one of our best runners.”
“I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation.” Principal Matthews shakes his head. “You’re not only facing expulsion. You could go to jail for this. You’ll be tried as an adult. Do you understand that? What you did is assault. Assault with a deadly weapon.”
Jail? My chest grows unbearably tight.
What about all the terrible people who actually deserve jail?
People like my dad.
What am I going to do? Jim and Patricia will never adopt me now.
The principal’s eyes meet mine over the thin rims of his glasses like he’s enjoying this. Having power over me. Frightening me. My hands ball into fists. Sitting before him, I feel like a child again, small and powerless.
“Jason assaulted me first,” I quietly plead.
Principal Matthews sighs heavily, leaning back in his plush office chair. “You kids in the foster system just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
My nails bite into my palms.
Fuck you, I want to shout, but I swallow the words. It’s not the first time I’ve heard something like that. He wouldn’t understand why I’m so angry. If I let myself start, I would scream until my throat was raw, until I had no voice left at all.
Principal Matthews changes tactics. “I’ve already called the police and your guardian. They should be arriving any moment now, so before they do, just tell me where—”
The door bangs open behind me, and I whirl around.
No. Not Jim and Patricia.
My social worker’s generous frame fills the doorway instead.
Of course. Since I haven’t been adopted, Jim and Patricia aren’t my legal guardians. Helga is. Shoulder-length gray hair frames her soft, wrinkled face and gentle eyes. She bustles into the principal’s office, wearing a bright dress and big smile, completely at odds with the grim mood.
“I came as soon as I could,” Helga says, plopping her briefcase on the desk like it belongs to her.
It’s been three weeks since I saw her. Whenever she visits, it’s exhausting. I have to save my best performances for her. I’m doing well, thank you for asking! Couldn’t be happier, actually. Now I’m glad she showed up, not Jim and Patricia. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to them.
Helga clears her throat. “I’d like to speak with Edith. Alone.”
Principal Matthews nods reluctantly. “Very well. I should see if the police have arrived yet.”
We’re both silent until the door slams shut.
Helga lowers herself into the seat beside mine. She studies me with keen interest, no trace of fear or judgment. “I want to hear what happened from you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” I jump up from my chair and pace back and forth, unable to sit still any longer. “Jason was an asshole—he kept trying to grab me—and I just… I got so angry… I slapped him, that’s all.”
Helga raises her brows. “That’s all?”