As if he were issuing her a challenge.
To judge him, too.
Hate him the way the rest of the world did.
She found she couldn’t look away from him.
His jaw harsh and sharp, nose defined, his lips almost too full for the narrow oval of his face.
His shoulders were wide while the rest of him was almost gangly, as if he were just waiting to grow into the aggression that wrapped him just as tightly as his tattered, dingy shirt.
A shiver rolled through her, head to toe.
He was beautiful.
Terrifyingly beautiful.
As if looking at him alone should have come with a warning.
No wonder her daddy had given her one.
Mr. Flores jostled him. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Harder than it needs to be?” The boy scoffed, tearing his attention from Faith as if he hadn’t even noticed her gaping from there in the corner. “You don’t know anything about things being hard.”
“I don’t need to hear any excuses for your actions because there’s none for stealing from another student. Now move it.”
Incredulous laughter snorted from his nose. “Whatever. You’re all the same. Every town. Every city. Every asshole.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Footsteps scuffled along the floor, and the principal’s door slammed.
Faith held back, trying not to eavesdrop through the thin walls as she continued to file her papers. But she could hear every word they said as if they were amplified in her ear.
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Mitch says you did.”
“Do I look like I give a shit what Mitch said?”
The squeak of a rocking chair. “You know the consequence for stealing, don’t you, son? We expel kids for that around here.”
“Go ahead. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Mr. Dagon sighed a rough sound. “I’m just trying to help you here. Confess what you did, apologize, and I’ll give you a second chance. I know you’ve had it rough.”
The boy huffed. “You don’t know anything. None of you do. Don’t pretend like you give a crap about us.”
There was so much anger in his words. Faith was sure that kind of anger had to physically hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shield herself from having to listen to it.
From feeling it.
Experiencing it.
Because right then, she was sure she could. She could feel that ragged boy’s pain. It was breaking on every lash of his tongue.
More squeaking of the office chair, and Faith’s nerves gathered right at the base of her throat. She shouldn’t have kept listening, but she felt desperate . . . desperate to know what would happen next.
The principal sighed. “Fine. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. This one time. But the next time you end up in my office, I’m not going to go so easy on you.”
She barely made out the sound of surprise, the boy’s voice so quiet when he said, “Thank you, sir.”
She thought she could physically feel the anger drain from the space.
A breath taken.
A break given.
She was shaking when the boy appeared in the doorway again. His face was contorted in a way that twisted her up on the inside. Agony and regret. Grief and guilt.
So much guilt.
As if he thought he were dirty.
She could feel it—the shame radiating off him.
He lurched to a stop when he saw her, as frozen as she was before he jerked away and his expression morphed into one of pride and indifference.
She was pretty sure it was the fakest demonstration she’d ever seen.
He blew out the door. The heavy glass and metal banged shut behind him.
She didn’t even know what in the world she thought she was doing as she haphazardly shoved the rest of the files into the drawer, feeling frantic as she gathered her things and flew out the door behind him five minutes before she was supposed to leave.
He was already gone when she raced out into the deserted outdoor courtyard, fifth period still in session.
The enclosed area was lined by classrooms, and a bunch of concrete tables took up the grassy space in the middle.
She exhaled heavily, air puffing into her bangs on a sigh of defeat and frustration. It was stupid, anyway, chasing him out there.
She slung her backpack over her shoulder and started for the restroom, figuring she probably should soak up the sweat that had gathered on her brow before the bell rang and she headed to her next class.
She trudged up the narrow walkway and started to turn the corner, only to stumble a step when she heard the quieted voices coming from the backside of the building.
Holding her breath, she inched that way, pressing her back to the brick wall as she was hit with another rush of that fear.
That warning fluttering through her insides as if it were carried on wings, which was kind of funny, considering there was no chance she could turn away.