I didn’t make him up.
Oh God.
“I’m sorry. What’d you just say?” I burst out, loudly and effectively bringing all the eyes in the room to me.
Mrs. S stares at me. Hard.
I know she doesn’t like to be interrupted, especially when she’s giving out instructions left and right. But fuck it.
“How long have you worked here, Cleopatra?” she asks, instead.
I take a deep breath. It doesn’t help. I’m still as shaken up as I was the moment I heard his name.
“Listen, I know I’m being rude and everything and you hate being interrupted but you don’t understand.” I clear my throat and slide to the edge of my seat. “Did you just say that Zach is coming back because I think you did. And that’s just impossible, right? Because last I checked, he left. Abruptly. And I thought that he wasn’t coming back. I thought that maybe his parents finally cut all ties with him. You know, because he was just so… out of control. I mean…” I wave my hand in the air and I have a feeling that I’m waving them a little too fast. “I never bought the whole going to Oxford scenario.”
I air-quote going to Oxford. “I never believed that he went to Oxford. But that’s okay. I don’t care about that. What I care about is…” I thread my fingers together on the table, digging my elbows into the wood and leaning forward. “What did you just say?”
My legs are jiggling and I hate that just the thought of him returning has reduced me to this.
This jittery, shaky, mess of a girl.
Angry and violent.
A girl who couldn’t decide if she wanted to hide to avoid confrontation and getting sent into detention yet again or punch him in the face like she did when she was ten and he was twelve.
“Cleopatra, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. But I’m going to overlook it because you’ve been dealing with a lot. Although I will say this – if you don’t get your erratic behavior under control and see someone…”
There it is.
“I’ll have no hesitation in letting you go. Is that clear?”
Beside me, I feel Tina’s grimace. I can even feel Maggie shaking her head.
I press my hands together and force my legs to stay still. It’s a good thing my heart is an organ, firmly caged within the ribs. Because if it weren’t, it would be exploding out of my chest and lying a pulpy mess on the floor.
“Crystal,” I say with difficulty.
“And Cleopatra?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Mr. Prince to you. Don’t forget your place.”
I grit my teeth, grind them, smash them.
“I won’t.”
***
Zachariah Prince.
I met him when I was ten and he was twelve.
In fact, I met him my very first day at St. Patrick’s. It’s a posh school for posh kids on the north side of town.
At the time, I was probably the only one from the south side to go there. My parents were very proud. They wanted the best for me and so, they worked very hard to get me into that school.
I never had any high hopes of St. Patrick’s, to be honest. I would’ve been happy to just go to my regular school on the south side with Tina and all my other friends.
Anyway, whatever I was expecting to happen on my first day, it wasn’t even remotely close to what actually did.
I got caught stealing, or rather borrowing, carrot sticks, from a girl at lunch. It wasn’t my fault. I was hungry and they had this long list of prescribed snacks that kids could bring. All of it was some bullshit, healthy stuff that didn’t do anything to curb my hunger.
So I improvised.
And got caught and sent to detention.
Where I met him.
The guy who’d become my bully for the next however many years I was to go to that stupid school – St. Patrick’s has both middle and high school wings.
When girls my age were falling in love with cute boys, I was falling in hate with Zach. When boys were asking them out on dates, carrying their backpacks, opening their doors, Zach and his minions were pushing me through them.
They were tripping me in the hallways, spilling drinks on my uniform and my homework. They were hiding my blue car and sending me hints on my phone as to where it could be.
Not to mention, they were Photoshopping my face on every cheese commercial that they could find on the internet, and calling me Thunder Thighs, Jiggly Lump, Lard Ass. You know, because I love eating and I’m not exactly a delicate flower when it comes to my body.
And while his minions were doing his dirty work, Zach would simply stand there and stare at me. Sometimes he’d smirk. Especially when I fought back.
Oh yeah, I fought back.
I wasn’t helpless. I was far from it.