Page 5 of Uppercut Princess

After the girl who slammed my head into the locker decided it was much more fun to cozy up to Oscar and Brawler than to fuck with me, I walked toward the main office. It’s not my first choice to find myself heading this way on the first day, but I need a lock. Surely, just because this school is filled with gang bangers and miscreants doesn’t mean they don’t have a maintenance department, right? They must have extra locks somewhere.

I shake my head as I walk close to the walls. I can imagine what any of the stuck-up rich assholes I went to school with once upon a time would look like here in Rawley Heights. Comical. Downright hysterical.Yes, please, sir. I don’t seem to be able to utilize my locker. May I get reassigned?The thought is almost enough to make me smile. Almost.

The Rawley Heights High School Office is just a singular, solid door. To the right, a ripped computer paper sign that looks as if it’s been taped a handful of times says, you guessed it: office. It’s not even capitalized. Paint chipping on the side of the door makes me think there used to be a legit sign here once, but who knows how long that’s been gone. I double-check the area to make sure I’m in the right place. It’s unlike any Main Office I’ve ever seen. Usually, they’re encased with windows that look out into the hallway or flanked with school spirit signs. There is none of that here. They’ve basically made it as unwelcoming as possible.

I turn the knob and push the heavy door open. Once inside, I take note of the dirt brown, threadbare carpet and the overall seventies coloring of oranges and green that cover the walls and aesthetics. My gaze traces over a hallway that branches out. It’s dim, as is the entire office itself. Most of the lights are off. The doors are shut. “Hello?”

A musty smell barrages me, like this place doesn’t get used often. I wait for a response, but there isn’t one. I walk farther in. An empty sunburnt-colored desk sits front and center. Piles of paperwork are strewn over it along with several wire baskets filled with more papers.

I sigh. There’s literally no one around. The bell only rang five minutes ago. Shouldn’t administration be staying later than the students? That only seems logical.

A creaking noise interrupts the stillness. I tilt my head, trying to figure out where the sound came from. It’s then I notice there’s an open door just to the right of the empty desk. I walk forward right before a hissing sound pours out of the room followed by a masculine “Oh, fuck yes.”

I stop. Curiosity burns through me. It can’t be what I think it is. I glance up just as the blinds on the window that look out into this room fly upward.

My heart falters in my chest as I stare into the eyes of Johnny Rocket. My skin turns cold then heats when I read the pleasure in his eyes. My gaze drifts lower, and my stomach clenches. I press my lips together to keep from spewing the empty contents of my stomach everywhere.

Johnny’s sitting on the edge of another sunburnt orange desk. His feet propped up on the open bottom drawers on either side of the desk, he’s tilted back slightly, and a head is going to town on his dick. His eyes gleam. “We’re going to need a minute.”

The woman startles when she realizes he’s talking to someone. She tries to pull away, enough so that the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes are clearly visible, which tells me she’s a lot older than Johnny. She’s also wearing a collared blouse with her hair in an updo that Johnny demolishes when he pulls her mouth back to his cock. I swear he pulls her so hard she had to have gagged, but instead, she moans like she loves being manhandled by this spawn of Satan.

My surroundings burn hazy at the edges. All I can see is him. I don’t register that he’s getting head from a secretary or some other administrator. The darkness in his eyes has captured me in place. The rueful play of his lips have stolen my breath. In my head, I imagine an older version of him, and my blood boils.

“You can watch if you want,” he suggests, his hand still on the back of the woman’s neck while he gives me a slight shrug.

His words are like a douse of reality. In a snap, my vision expands, and I remember where I am and what I’m doing. I turn away from the audacious scene and exit out the nondescript wood door. Leaning against it, I bring my hand to my stomach as if to hold its contents in.

Not exactly the way I wanted to handle meeting the son of my parents’ murderer.

I close my eyes, and the rest of the school disappears. In my head, I singsong, “One Kyle-and-An-na. Two Kyle-and-An-na. Three Kyle-and-An-na.” When I get to five, I open my eyes again. The picture is clearer. My focus restored. I shift on my heel to walk out of this ridiculous building they call a school. I’ll head to Walmart tonight to grab a fucking lock and maybe even some bolt cutters to get the old lock off my broken locker myself.

I push the image of Johnny Rocket away and store it for another day. Another time to come back to for analysis. I can’t get ahead of myself. Not yet. Not ever.

The empty halls greet me like a barren cave. I have a suspicion the only ones left are students and teachers who actually give a shit about being here day in and day out. Not counting the fucking bitch who’s in there with Rocket for extracurricular activities.

“Crazy first day?”

I jump. Spinning, I glance up to find a girl walking past me in the hall. She has a pair of holey jeans on, a chain looping from her front belt loop to her back belt loop. A tight black shirt rounds out the outfit. I narrow my gaze, but first impressions tell me she won’t be one of the ones trying to mess with me so she can get on the Heights Crew’s good side. “You could say that.”

She walks past me, only giving a cursory glance, but then she stops suddenly. Sighing, she turns toward me like it’s really the last thing she wants to do yet feels compelled to anyway. “Watch out for Nevaeh. She’ll do anything to get into HC.”

I rack my brain. There were so many wannabe gang bitches today who tried to make my life a living hell. I don’t have the foggiest which one Nevaeh is. I lift my shoulders.

The girl sighs again, mumbling something to herself. When she finally responds to me, she’s more clear. “Neveah’s the one who slammed your head into the locker.”

Ohhhh.I file that name away. My head’s still thumping from that bitch move. “You saw that, huh?” Real embarrassment crawls over my skin. I do have some pride after all. I’m just willing to overlook it for the greater good.

“Stay out of her way. And if you tell her I said something, I’ll…” She trails off, then looks up like she’s trying to figure out the best threat to make. Clearly, she doesn’t have a lot of experience with this.

I like her immediately, which means I need to stay the hell away from her. “Thanks,” I tell her, before stepping toward the main doors again. I need to get home, put some ice on my fucking forehead, and regroup before I do this all again tomorrow.

The big reveal can’t come soon enough.

I walk around her toward the doors. Her stare is like a hot poker burning a hole into my side, but I don’t slow up or try to be nice or try to make a friend. In any other world, I would have. I’d want a friend to get through Rawley Heights with, but I’ve never been all that good at having friends, first of all, and second, it’s just not the time.

I have only one goal here, and it’s not to find something real.

My life in Rawley Heights is fake. It’ll be raw and dirty and bloody. Filled with betrayal, revenge, and fucking satisfaction. I don’t need to add another casualty when I leave this fucking place with murder on my hands.

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