A tall, imposing boy stalks through the cafeteria. Dark hair hangs over his forehead and he wears a leather jacket and heavy boots, completely disregarding the school uniform. His face is set in angry lines, mouth turned down as he glares at any student that dares look his way.
“Who is that?” I ask, not recognizing him.
“Wilder,” Maisy says quietly. “Fox Wilder. He’s in my grade, but he’s supposed to be in yours. They held him back when he came back.”
“Came back?”
“He used to live here.” Her expression is distant and sad. “A long time ago, when Holden and I were kids. He was our friend.”
Wilder sweeps his gaze over the room, landing on Maisy. It seems impossible, but his face grows angrier. Maisy lifts her hand, waving. Wilder jerks his head and moves to the corner where her older brother, Holden, sits with guys from the football team.
“I don’t think he remembers you, Maise,” I say carefully.
She remains quiet, sighing and crossing her arms. “Guess not. He’s been cold every time I try to say hi, but he’s been hanging around Holden since he moved back to Ridgeview. I don’t know what I did. It was so long ago, we were only kids when…” She trails off and shakes her head. “Never mind. Oh crap. Drama alert.”
Maisy nods with her chin and I glance toward Connor’s table. My heart falls when I realize how quiet the center tables have gone, and why.
Blair Davis, the dark-haired scholarship student at Silver Lake High that seems like a punching bag for the rich, popular crowd, stands stock still in front of Devlin Murphy. He’s sprawled in his seat before her like an evil king, expression hard and commanding. I watch as Blair lifts the water thermos in her hand and dumps it over herself.
What the hell!
Heinous cackles erupt from Connor and Devlin’s crowd of friends. Water drips from Blair’s hair and her uniform shirt is soaked right through.
“Oh no,” I mumble, already reaching for napkins from a holder on the table. “Not again. Why can’t they leave her alone?”
“Assholes,” Maisy hisses.
The whole cafeteria claps and taunts, cheering the drama on.
It fires me up that no one is willing to act. “I’m going to help.”
“Wet dog alert!” Someone shouts from the other tables surrounding the central popular one. They call more vile things and make kissing sounds at Blair’s back, like they’re calling a dog.
Connor pops up from his perch on top of the table and slides in next to Devlin, muttering in his ear with a matching smirk as his friend.
He’s just as vile and arrogant as Devlin Murphy, cruel and cold beneath the mask of the cocky jokester. All I see is someone who uses people and takes amusement in the torment he puts them through.
My chest burns with anger, both for Blair and at the boys at this school who think they can get away with murder. We aren’t their toys. I navigate through the tables separating me from the middle of the cafeteria, clenching the napkins in my fist. I’ve never been one to resort to violence ever, but right now it’s too much—his threats were bad enough, but seeing him laugh as his friend bullies Blair makes me snap. I could punch Connor and not regret it.
The bravado that drove me over to the scene wavers as I stand under the full brunt of Connor and Devlin together. They haven’t even noticed me, both focused on Blair.
“Um.” I offer the napkins to Blair. “I brought you these.”
Connor goes stiff in his seat, inhaling sharply. I can feel the press of his eyes against the side of my face as I hold out the napkins.
“Thanks,” Blair mutters, accepting my help.
I don’t leave her side as she pats herself awkwardly. This is the second time I’ve stood up for her against them, and I don’t doubt for a second that they’d double down in a more cruel way if I walked away. I shoot the pair of them a hard look, hoping they stop treating her so terribly.
As Connor explodes from his seat, I jump, clutching the napkins against my chest. In a blink, he’s in my face, towering over me and invading my space.
“U-um, Connor.”
“Were you invit
ed over here?” Bishop demands.
I swallow. Is he saying I need to stay away when he doesn’t need me to pretend to be his girl? This is so stupid! He should’ve told me the rules. My knuckles turn white as I grip the napkins tighter.