Feeling eyes on me, I turned my head, seeing Will’s gaze focused on my leg.
I looked down, finding my fingers curled around the hem of my skirt, the scratches and part of a bruise visible on my thigh. My pulse quickened, and I yanked my skirt back down to my knee.
“Flip to the last chapter, please,” Townsend called. “And take out the packet.”
But the bruise pounded with pain, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Don’t you know you can have anything you want? I’d hurt anyone you asked me to.
My chin trembled. I had to get out of here.
Abuse can feel like love…
I shook my head, stuffing my materials back into my bag, standing up, and hooking it over my head as I charged down the aisle and toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
I turned my head toward the teacher. “To finish the book and the constructed responses in the library.”
I kept walking, blinking away the tears hanging in my eyes.
“Emory Scott,” the teacher called.
“Or you can explain to my brother why my SAT scores will be shit,” I said, walking backward with my glare on him, “because they’re dominating ninety-eight percent of every conversation in this class.” I gestured to the Horsemen. “Text me any additional assignments, if we have them.”
I pushed the door open, hearing whispers go off in class.
“Emory Scott,” the teacher barked.
I looked over my shoulder at Townsend, seeing him hold out a pink slip.
“You know what to do,” he scolded.
Strolling back in, I snatched the referral from his fingers. “At least I’ll get some work done,” I retorted.
Dean’s office or library, it made no difference.
Walking out of the room, I couldn’t help but glance back at Will Grayson, seeing him slouched in his seat, chin on his hand, and covering a smile with his fingers.
He held my eyes until I left the room.
• • •
Walking down the sidewalk, I didn’t raise my eyes as I turned left and headed up the walkway toward my house. I blinked long and hard for the last few steps, my head floating up into the trees as the afternoon breeze rustled the leaves. I loved that sound.
The wind was foreboding. It made it feel like something was about to happen, but in a way that I liked.
Opening my eyes, I climbed my steps and looked right, not seeing my brother’s cruiser in the driveway yet. The heat in my stomach cooled slightly, the muscles relaxing just a hair.
I had a little time, at least.
What a shit day. I’d skipped lunch and hid in the library, and after classes were done, I struggled through band practice, not wanting to be there, but not wanting to come home, either. Hunger pangs rocked my stomach, but it took the edge off the pain everywhere else.
I looked back at my street, taking in the quiet avenue, decorated with maples, oaks, and chestnuts, bursting with their finale of oranges, yellows, and reds. Leaves danced to the ground as the wind shook them free, and the scent of the sea and a bonfire somewhere drifting through my nose.
Most of the kids like me were bussed to Concord to attend the public high school there, since our population in Thunder Bay was too small to support two high schools, but my brother wanted the best for me, so TBP was where I stayed.
Despite the fact that we weren’t wealthy, he paid a little, I work-studied a lot, and the rest of my tuition was waived as my brother was a public servant. The wealth and privilege my private high school matriculated was supposed to be a better education. I wasn’t seeing it. I still sucked at literature, and the only class I really enjoyed was independent study, because I could be alooooooone.