I folded my arms, half to cover my thumping heart. “So, how do you defend unrepentant murderers who’d kill and kill and kill again in the name of their children’s freedom? It’s an interesting question and I can’t wait to tackle the paper. Love to see what you come up with too, Stone.”
“Who said you could use my name?” The question wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even contemptuous. “I don’t believe we’ve met, so I don’t believe I gave you permission to have my name in your mouth.”
A hot pit boiled my stomach. “I don’t need permission.”
“Or common sense, awareness, or basic survival instincts.” Jacques faced me, blessing—cursing—me with all six feet, shadow dusted, and shiny-eyed bit of him granting his full attention. “If you spent less time thinking of that simplistic comeback, and more time reading the room, you’d have noticed everyone is looking at you in surprise, some horror, a lot of disbelief, and more than a little disdain. Not the faces of people about to give you a standing ovation.”
I glanced around. Jacques was right. There was a mix of emotions on people’s faces, none were congratulatory.
“This is my school, in my town, in my classroom,” Jacques said. He tipped my chin up—a touch that could only be described as gentle. “No one talks back to me. And if they’re going to conjure up the courage, they at the very least have the courtesy to not be laughably wrong.”
I swallowed against his fingers. “How am I wrong?”
“For one very simple reason,” he replied. “If the militias and armed forces succeeded in retaking the town, the revolters would’ve been executed where they stood. None would’ve seen the inside of a courtroom, because they couldn’t be seen as equals, but would be recognized as enemies. That’s always the case... in war.”
My lips parted. “I think—”
“Your first mistake,” he sliced in. “Don’t make it again. You were meant to get by on your looks.”
My face flared hot. “Wow. You are a douchebag.”
Jacques faced forward—my audience with him coming to an end. “Falling back on insults because you don’t have anything intelligent to say. You and I are done. Be quiet.”
“I would, but I can’t let it pass without mentioning how pathetic it is that you need to look so tough and cool, that you’re sitting there with wet pants and pretending it doesn’t bother you.”
A muscle in his brow ticced. “Excuse me? My pants aren’t wet.”
“Aren’t they?” I snatched his water bottle, twisted off the top, and dumped the contents in his lap.
Jacques leaped out of his seat bellowing.
“Rainey!” Valdez barked. “Unacceptable. Leave my class this instant.”
“Me? But he’s the one—”
“Enough.” He smashed his fist on the desk. “I will not have another argument. I won’t hear another word uttered for the next hour and a half. Leave!”
More words said to the entire room, but directed at one person, and I suspected that person wasn’t me.
Even so, it was me who packed her backpack and walked out under Jacques’s gaze. Those burning eyes followed me out the door and on the other side of it.
Jacques was wrong about me failing to read the room. I picked up on every face I passed as I walked out the door. They said one thing in complete agreement.
I made a huge mistake.
Chapter Three
“Rainey?”
My eyes peeled open, blinking through the cloud of cherry blossoms. My next class was around noon. Afterward, I’d have to turn my decision into action. Some peace and quiet in the arboretum wasn’t too much to ask for.
“Rainey? It is her,” said Zara.
The girls crowded in around me, squeezing on the bench. Paris slung her arm around me.
“Is this where you hide out?” she asked. “Not a bad spot.”
Putting it mildly. This was the most beautiful spot on campus. Beds of roses, daisies, and petunias split into differing shapes by the twisting walkways. The arboretum, tucked away on the edge of campus, was the only spot that hadn’t yet been taken over by the Ruckus partiers. It was a little slice of peace.
Some odd miles straight ahead and I’d be on the farm again.
“I’d rather not use the word hiding,” I said. “Makes it sound like I’m afraid of Cairo and Jacques.”
“Jacques? What does he have to do with anything?”
“Didn’t you hear what happened in their ethics class?” Amy hissed.
I sat up straight. “Apparently you have. How? I was kicked out an hour ago.”
“The video of you giving Jacques Stone a cock wash was uploaded fifty-nine minutes ago. He’s going to kill you.”
Couldn’t be certain if I was more disturbed by her lack of irony saying he’d kill me, or that she called my dumping water on him a cock wash.
“I don’t think you should come to Ruckus Royale tonight, Rainey,” Zara said. “They’re bad enough sober. Throw in the booze, drugs, and power-tripping as the Kings of Ruckus, and they’ll make an example of you.”