Madison’s face has always been coiled tight, but now it contorts further. Suddenly more interested in me than she had been moments ago.
A shadow flicks, crossing over her eyes.
“I want you to take it down.”
“No can do,Princess,” she speaks, eyes moving from my blazer. Flipping her hair over her shoulder keeping her face poised; she doesn’t share my deference.
I have no idea if she knows Cole’s nickname for me or if it’s pure coincidence, either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is the fuckedupness that’s currently locked behind a glass case.
My molars grind together. I want to snap each of the hellhound’s necks for letting her get away with doing things like this for so long. This farce has no purpose other than to be spiteful and mean.
“Going to fill one out?” Her mouth turns up, slanting her chin down at my hand. “See you found one.”
“Too bad you still haven’t found a brain.”
The creases around her eyes smooth out in oversight. “If I were you, I’d go with Amelia Martinez. Heard she got an STD over break.”
“Take it down!” I snap, done with her games. “All of it, I want it gone.”
She laughs then, and it’s a deep, heinous sound. One that lacks humility for anyone else.
The noise carries the same weighted pressure of a bomb right before it’s detonated to explode. Me, I’m the bomb and she’s just set me off.
My fingers grip, locking on to the base of her scalp, tugging her down by her ponytail. We are about to go on a little field trip.
“Rory, let go!” She whines but I hold solid.
She whimpers when I tug tighter at her roots. Her head snaps farther back but she can’t do anything but trudge along.
Madison may be taller, but I have more of a vendetta.
Her heels click. Each new step carrying the weight of a single pin drop in an overawed building.
My smile turns sinister. Blood racing.
She’s about to regret any power she thinks she’s ever had over this school. I’ll show her who the biggest bitch in the building is.
Coming to a halt, I kick at the back of Madison’s knees. Her shins catch, skidding the floor before her hands have a chance to catch herself.
The sound of bone hitting tile is brutal. If I cared more, I would feel bad, but she lost any chance of sympathy from me after this little stunt.
Her knees scrape the floor, panting, she draws out air. My hold stays locked in her hair.
I yank and her head snaps up. The angle is almost unnatural, but she needs to see. See the faces of the people she’s destroying for her own agenda.
She opens her mouth to say something. I lean around and shove the wadded piece of paper I still have deep down her throat instead.
“I gave you your chance to fix this,” I seethe. “Now it’s their turn.”
Her eyes gloss over, rimming with murder.
She attempts to snatch at my legs from behind, but I grab at her too-thin wrists. Holding her head back with one hand and her arms in the other.
“It’s your turn to listen,” I say only loud enough for her to hear.
Her body starts to shake the longer she’s forced to look out at our peers’ gazes. The embarrassment, sadness, anger, everything. She has nowhere to hide. Facing the mass that is the school head-on.
Her eyes flick over to me, pleading, begging me to let go, but I refuse.