It’s so fucking fake, though.
And Brett knows it.
His nostrils flare. “I’m not a boy.”
I lean down, grabbing my backpack strap. “Real men aren’t assholes for the sake of being an asshole.”
It takes everything in me to not kick his ankle to force him to give up my backpack, but I release the handle and head to the bathroom without it. The water I splash onto my face is freezing cold, and I grip the sides of the sink, my head bowed.
Fuck. He’s getting under my skin. I can’t let that happen. I have to, at all times, rise above the shit he’s dishing out. Ignore. That’s my best defense. Ignore. He doesn’t exist. His words should go in one ear and out the other.
After all, I’ve dealt with other assholes and bullies before. I’ve dealt with tyrants and oppressors. I will not let him get to me.
It’s just so damn crippling that I ran away from all of that to end up in a high school that has the same shitty ass people here.
Every town has assholes. I know that. Every school too.
“I just need to keep my head down,” I murmur even as I lift my head to stare at my reflection. My hair is almost black. My eyes look that dark. My face might be sans makeup, but my cheekbones are fairly prominent even without contouring. Must be from the weight I’ve lost.
I shouldn’t think about weight or food or any of that. I’m hungry. Yes, I bought some, but I don’t want to eat it up too quickly. With how hungry I am right now, I’m afraid I’ll binge it.
Maybe I can work at a place that sells food. Maybe there will be employee discounts or even free meals. Not that a fast food joint has the healthiest food options, but even McDonald’s offers a salad, right?
I’ll check that option out later.
I head back to calculus to grab my backpack. Class isn’t over yet, and I do my best not to look at Brett at all. It’s only a few minutes until the bell rings, and I just sit there, waiting for Brett to move his foot.
“Good. You know your place,” he says, leaning forward. He goes to lift his foot, and I suck in a breath, expecting him to kick my chair, my desk, my backpack, something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his foot back down, and I can’t help turning to face him, ready to reclaim my backpack whenever he’s ready to relinquish it. “I heard a rumor that you were cracking jokes with Tyler. That true?”
I suck in a breath. “Just a few puns.”
“Puns, huh?”
I nod.
"Here's a pun for you. Not a pun, really. A promise."
I hold up a hand and smile. “Here’s a promise to you. I promise to learn my place. How does that sound?”
He leans back in his seat. The other classmates have all arrived, and we’re going to be late for our next classes, but he’s in no hurry to move.
“You will,” he says, sounding smug. Is it my imagination? No. His smile does seem genuine, and it’s definitely a smile, not a smirk.
For whatever it’s worth.
He moves his foot, and I go to grab my backpack. His foot comes back down in time to trap it again. I hadn’t been fast enough.
“If you think I’m stupid enough to believe—”
“Oh, no, Brett,” I say sweetly. “You’re just such a wonderful teacher.”
His eyes narrow, but then he smiles brightly. Not at me. Over my shoulder.
I look behind me to see Mrs. Ice standing there.
"Just giving the new student a few pointers," Brett says smoothly. He stands up, nudging my backpack away. Intentionally? Probably, but it honestly looked unintentional.
I hurry to my next class. Mr. August isn’t happy with me at all and proceeds to list a few lines from famous poems, wanting me to state the title or the author. None of them are easy ones, and finally, he just motions for me to take a seat.