Page 6 of Betraying Bexley

Bex nodded.

“Great. I’m so lost. I thought for sure I’d miss class.” The girl dumped herself and her stuff into Iliana’s seat, and Bex wanted to protest the action. Instead, she didn’t say shit. “My name is Bronx. What’s yours?”

“B-B-Bex,” Bex said with a grimace.

“Don’t get too close to her, if you know what’s good for you.” Sasha cackled. “She’s the gutter trash of the school.”

Bex bowed her head and faced forward. It was better, like Sasha said, not to get involved with her. No one at the school might know what her father did, but she highly doubted it would matter anyway. They’d probably treat her worse. What got under her skin the most though, was the fact her father contributed more money than some of the families in the school made in ten years, but she received zero protections and zero respect.

“You know, my dad always said, it takes trash to know trash, so for you to say anything must make you trash too,” Bronx said, surprising Bex.

Sasha squealed in indignation. “How dare you speak to me like that! I’ll have you kn—”

“No one cares what you know, Spray Tan Barbie.” Bronx poked Bex in the shoulder. “Hey, will you help me get to my next class when this is over so I’m not late?”

“Look at the two budding lesbo-lovers,” Valerie sneered joining Sasha. “Isn’t it cute? Bexley’s letting some hood rat fight her battles for her now.”

"How about I beat you hood rat style?" Bronx stood up, surprising Bex. It didn't make sense. No one stood up against those bitches for her. Iliana had told Bex to ignore them, like she hadn't been trying to the whole four years she'd been in school with them. Bronx though, she went at Sasha head-on and it kind of made Bex tingly—for not the right reasons.

“All right class, settle down, please.” Mrs. Bradford closed the door behind her as she entered the room. “I was informed we have a new student today.”

Bronx smirked at Sasha before she strode toward the front of the classroom. “Bronx Lewis. Good to meet ya.” She handed the slip of paper she’d been holding to the teacher. “Principal said I need your John Hancock on the line next to your class.”

Mrs. Bradford stared up at the girl for a moment then took Bronx's schedule and signed it. "We're in the middle of Macbeth. I suggest you talk with your classmates to get caught up."

“Oh, Shakespeare. Tingly.” Bronx retrieved her paper and sauntered back to her seat. “Hey, Mrs. Bradford, so you know, I’m partial to the Sonnets.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Bradford’s lips twitched, and her eyes narrowed. She’d always been a bit condescending when it came to the students. She had a superiority complex or maybe a Napoleonic complex because she was short? Bex didn’t know, but the woman could be downright mean when she wanted to be. “Let me guess, your favorite is, Sonnet number 208?”

Bronx nudged Bex and scrunched up her face before pointing at the teacher. “Is she for—Excuse me? Are you for real? There are one hundred and fifty-one Sonnets. I happen to like number 88 myself.”

Mrs. Bradford blanched then cleared her throat. “Well then, recite it for us. Since it’s your favorite.”

“Sure thing.” Bronx stood. “Now, I’m no Sir Patrick Stewart, or anything but I’ve got this.” She winked at Bex then exhaled slowly. She clenched her hands at her chest and released a mournful sound. It was all very dramatic. “When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, and place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I'll fight—”

“Very well, Miss Lewis, you’ve proved your point.” Mrs. Bradford stepped forward with her book in hand. “Now, let’s return to our lesson, shall we?”

“Awe,” Bronx frowned, “I was getting to the good part.”

"Well, at least she's a learned hood rat." Sasha snickered.

The class erupted in laughter and Mrs. Bradford sighed. “Miss Torres.”

"Well, at least we all know money doesn't cure being a frigid bitch." Bronx blew her a kiss. "Better catch it, so it doesn't go to waste. It's going to have to last until your remove the stick from your ass and finally get laid."

“Miss Torres and Miss Lewis, outside please.”

Bronx grabbed her things then glanced at Bex. “Don’t worry, I’ve read Macbeth three times. I know what’s going to happen. If you need any help, you know where to find me.”

Bex blinked. “Uh... O-Okay.”

For the rest of the class, Bex kept her eyes pinned on the words blurring on the page, not daring to even lift them for a second. She feared, if she did, the rest of the bitch squad would be staring daggers through her. She didn't know Bronx, but, somehow, her actions would mean retaliation against Bex. If she took the time to think about it, she'd have to ask some inane questions, like how could any of what she'd experienced in the last couple of weeks be coincidence? Between the incident with those men who tried to grab her on the sidewalk outside of school, to Iliana, the Yakuza kid in her history class with Mr. Aquino, to Bronx now. Not even a paranoid person would be questioning their sanity with those glaring factoids.

When the bell rang, she blew out a breath and gathered her things. One more class down. At least she'd have a break to eat some lunch. She waited for the majority of the class to leave before she stood and exited the room. School for her was always a chore. Not that she didn't like it, she did. Math was her favorite subject, but Language Arts and English, she could nope the heck out of those classes. It meant reading out loud and giving presentations with words she couldn't half-spit out.

The one time Mrs. Pickens forced her to give a little speech, it made her the laughingstalk of the class for the rest of the year. And, when her teacher told her father she needed speech therapy, he beat Bex bloody then he got the teacher fired and caused the teacher such grief she couldn’t find a job—or at least it’d been what her father told her. If there was one thing about her father, he didn’t lie about stuff. So, the school system kind of passed her through. She didn’t get bad grades by far, she had some of the best, but when it came to social or group projects, she received an automatic A and free time away from the classroom.

Her father's heavy-handed ways complicated school life for Bex, so she kept to herself. To have three people in a week and a half trying to be friendly to her, freaked her out. What could they possibly want with her? She was a nobody. She was an incomplete person. She had the scars and the metal attachment to prove it.

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