Page 109 of Driftwood Daffodil

A voice in the back of my head whispered, ‘Don’t do it.’ But it was too late.

“Okay,” I snort/scoffed back at her. “But I’m gonna need more than a few minutes if you want me to handle myself.”

I was not prepared for the stick that hit the top of my hand.

“God damnit!” I called out while attempting to shake the burn away.

My outburst was rewarded with another sharp slap on my other hand.

“Son of a bitch.” That one was my sore punching arm.

“Nova!”

“What?” I growled at Memphis. “That shit hurts.”

Oh crap.

I quickly raised my hands, palms out towards Sister Mary of the Hallway, and said, “I mean it was a well-deserved punishment for my blasphemous words.”

Please don’t hit me again.

She narrowed her eyes and pointed the stick at me before thankfully walking out. God help this school if she ever got her hands on a whip.

The second she was gone Atlee burst out laughing, “That was fucking great.”

Gio had a small smirk on his face, and Memphis let out a snicker while Atlee laughed. And not just normal laughing. It was full on hunched over, clutching his gut laughing. It wasn’t that funny but whatever.

“You know what, I hope she comes back in here and hits all of you with her ninja stick.” I paused to eye Memphis. “Maybe not you.” It would take less time to point out the unmarked parts of his face. “You’ve taken enough. But Gio should definitely get a few strikes.”

A snort came from across the room.

“Sister Anne stopped trying to punish me like that freshman year.” Gio’s cool gaze slid my way. “That shit doesn’t hurt.”

I knew he was dead inside. “Yeah… well… I hope you step on a Lego barefoot in the dark.”

“Damn girl,” Atlee’s smile morphed into a grimace. “That’s just cold.”

“He deserves it. This is all his fault.”

“Actually,” Memphis interjected. “This is all your fault.”

“How is this my fault? I didn’t tell you to get in a fight with Atlee.”

“No, but you started it by hitting Gio.”

Gio pointed at Memphis and tsked in agreement.

“Don’t agree with him,” I snarled. “He’s my friend not yours.”

“He should find better friends.”

If looks could kill then the one Memphis shot Gio would’ve struck him dead right then and there. “Warn me next time so I can bring a bat.”

“I have a bat,” Atlee smirked. “I call her Pam.”

That wasn’t creepy at all.

I was a little concerned about Memphis’s wellbeing. Atlee looked way too happy.

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