“Leave me be,” I snap.
I weave around people even though it’s rude. A few of the kids shoot me dirty looks and mutter under their breath, but I don’t slow down.
Doesn’t matter. I can hear the murmurs of appreciation. The crowd behind me must be parting for Brett once more.
“Back off,” a girl snaps at me. Her terrible scowl turns into a smile as she looks over my shoulder. “Brett, Corey,” she coos, her tone now complete honey.
Bitch, everyone sees through you.
Why can’t Andrea have lunch now? Maybe I need to rethink the whole friendless bit.
A little late for that now, though.
Hands grip my arm, and I’m yanked around to face them. Brett has that stupid smirk I remember. The other guy looks like he should model a surfboard—blond hair, blue eyes, tanned skin. They both have incredibly good looks going for them, but that’s about it. They got the short end of the stick when it comes to personality.
How is it that Tyler fits in with these assholes?
“Definitely shaking,” Corey repeats with a laugh.
Corey yanks on my hair, and Brett’s hand grips my throat again.
Still, I say nothing. I try to avoid looking at them. There are so many students milling about that I have more than enough to choose to focus on instead of them. A girl whose one ear is entirely pierced up and down claims the last seat at the table closest to us. I’m boring, just double piercings in my ears, nowhere else. I’ve been debating getting a belly button ring, but I never jumped the gun. Given my current circumstances, I doubt I’ll ever get one, and that may be a blessing. If these guys saw I had a belly button ring, I don’t doubt they’ll rip it out.
“Little cat’s lost her tongue,” Corey says.
“Should I let go? Or should I make her squirm and squeal?” Brett asks.
I really hate the pressure of his hand on my throat. It’s dark and twisted, and I’m debating if it’ll be worth it to knee him in the balls. He’s close enough. I can bring my knee up in seconds.
But the repercussions make me hesitate. He’ll make me pay for that, and I have no doubt that he can. He’ll torture me, maybe even try to choke me out for real.
He really is just like my father.
“Do you think she’s a screamer?” Corey asks Brett.
“Considering no guy would fuck her, I’ll guess the world will never know.”
I roll my eyes and then shut them, cursing myself for reacting at all to their childish insults.
“If she lets loose, I bet she would like having her hair yanked, her throat crushed. Probably likes to almost pass out to make her orgasms stronger,” Corey says.
What the hell is wrong with him that he would judge a girl he’s never met before? Talk about grade-A shithead.
“I wouldn’t want to turn her on,” Brett says. He squeezes my throat hard enough that I can barely suppress a cough before releasing me. His hand doesn’t completely leave my body for long. No, he moves his hand from my throat to my chest. “I don’t feel a heart beating. I think she’s a zombie.”
That’s it. I’ve had enough of this. Ignoring them hasn’t gotten them to stop, but I still don’t want to stoop to their level. I try to squeeze by them, but they form a solid wall of muscle, and there’s no space for me to walk around them. Considering they cornered me against a table without my realizing it, I’m screwed.
“Would explain why she isn’t eating anything,” Corey says. “Are they real?”
Brett squeezes my boob. “Can’t tell,” he says.
Inwardly, I’m screaming. I’m being groped in public. Some of the other kids have to be watching. Are they just horny guys getting turned on watching big, bad Brett feel up a girl? Why aren’t I fighting back? Why do I feel so weak, so helpless, so vulnerable?
But there’s one thing I don’t feel. I’m not afraid of them. Not after what’s already happened to me. I can handle this without a word, without complaint.
At least for now.
But one day, I'll get back at them, and I'll have my revenge. They will not get the better of me. I'm too good for them.