Mrs. Wilkins shouted, her floral dress swishing across the room as the boy started crying. “Going to the nurse! Bunsen burners off!” she demanded, yanking the injured student out the door by his wrist.
It didn’t take long for a paper ball to be tossed across the room, an unfinished homework sheet that barely had a name on it.
“So, let me see if I understand…” Veronica declared, batting her over-mascaraed eyes that resembled spider legs. “You don’t want to go to Sonic with us, and you don’t want to sit at our table?”
“I didn’t say that.” Rafael dropped his pencil, looking over at Veronica.
I couldn’t control my bobbing feet, and I didn’t know how much longer I’d last.
“I’m failing this fucking class, you know?” Jake said in disbelief. “Coach Amada won’t let me play if I don’t get a D or better. You should be helping me, not that freak.”
I assumed he was talking about me, regardless I shouldn’t have answered, because then, I basically acknowledged the title.
“I’m not a freak!” I stood up, ready to leave but froze. Even the smallest step felt like a risk of completely wetting myself, the pain pinching below the button on my jeans.
“You’re so not a team player. Wait till coach hears about this.” Jake wafted away.
The bell for third period began to ring as kids stood up.
“Shut up,” Rafael hissed. “You watch your fucking mouth,” he said defensively, his chocolate eyes searing into Jake’s.
“If I can’t trust you in the classroom, I can’t trust you on the field.” Jake stood from his stool. “You can forget about any pass rush defense tonight, you’re gonna get lit up.”
I had no idea what the hell Jake was talking about, but Rafael’s eyes widened.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. And imagine Coach Amada’s face, once his pretty boy son gets sacked after every snap. We all know you can’t move with the ball, you pocket pussy.”
“He’ll make you run laps.” Rafael called Jake’s bluff, but that didn’t faze him.
Everyone began to zip up their bags, the sharp sound digging into my stomach. I started to back away, knowing my time was up.
“Whatever he makes me do, won’t be half as bad as what you’ll get,” Jake warned. “And boy, I’d love to see that.”
I bit on the corner of my thumb, feeling panicked and restless.
“Leave him alone.” I finally shouted, lifting my bag to my chest. I squeezed it, holding everything in.
“Shut up, freak!” Jake yelled back, and Veronica laughed, but Rafael got in his face.
“You need to walk away,” Rafael barked, but not before Jake pushed him away. Jake reached for my backpack, twisting it in his fist.
“Hey!” I shouted, but Rafael interrupted.
“Relax!” He stepped in front of me, shoving Jake’s hands away. “I’ll go with you guys tonight. Just stop.”
“Not good enough,” Veronica glared down at my bracelet, positively fixated. “How can Jake really trust you?”
Jake’s wheels began to turn, his slow brain unable to catch up before Veronica pulled the duct tape out of the other kid’s hand.
“I’m not going to some stupid movie marathon.” Rafael confessed, scrunching his eyes as if it were all some absurd idea. Did he really just call it stupid? My heart dropped as Veronica yanked on a piece of duct tape, its screech digging into my bladder as I stepped back from her.
“What are you doing?” I asked, fixing my glasses, stopping them from falling down my nose as my back hit the wall.
“Rafael is going to prove to Jake that he can be trusted. Aren’t you, Raf?”
Jake covered his mouth as he began to laugh, but Rafael stared daggers into me, as if I had done something wrong. “Tie her up,” Jake whispered, then repeated. “Tie up the freak.”