Page 15 of Loathing Ryan
Ryan’s expression grew thunderous, and his eyes narrowed venomously. His friends looked back and forth between me and him, as if trying to piece together what I was referencing.
I was on a roll, though, and I continued, “So what is this, retaliation because I said no? I bet you’re really not used to people refusing you for anything. What, did I hurt your feelings?”
Ryan glowered at me and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really? ’Cause I specifically remember you trying to find common ground.”
His eyebrows raised, and my stomach dropped as I saw that vindictive mask slide right back onto his face. “You sure you’re not getting me confused with someone else? Maybe your new buddy, Mark? He’s been trying to get into your pants since we got here.” He spared a glance at Todd and a wry grin formed on his face. “Don’t know why, though. He must be pretty desperate to go after you.”
That did it. Before I could even stop myself, my arm drew back and thrust forward. I clobbered him square in the face with my fist, and an audible sound echoed out as my punch landed. The crowd that had gathered gave anoooooh. A shock of pain shot up my hand and into my shoulder, and I bit my tongue to keep myself from crying out.
“Jesus Christ!” Ryan yelled as he hit the ground, his hand clutching his nose. When he drew back his hand, there was blood on it. Despite my throbbing wrist, a sense of accomplishment bloomed in my chest.
I stood over him triumphantly. “Screw you.”
“You’re gonna pay for that!” Ryan growled as he lunged up and tackled me down to the ground. I yelped as his shoulder made contact with my stomach, rolling us around until he pinned me to the dirt, his hands clasping my wrists.
“Get off me, you son of a bitch!” I screamed as he held me in place. He was too strong for me, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. “You’re bleeding on me!”
“Well, you shouldn’t have punched me, you psychopath!” he shouted back.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” I chanted as I thrashed. It was true. I had resorted to childish antics, but I would have done it all over again. My emotions were all over the place, but anger and rage still shone through. I was embarrassed that all of the senior class had seen my unmentionables, yet I was ecstatic that I had punched Ryan and made him bleed. Rage coursed through my body, though, at the realization that he could pin me down and neutralize my threat so easily.
Tears pricked my eyes as everything came down on me at once. Ryan watched me with wary eyes as I stopped flailing, blood dripping down his chin. I couldn’t help the sob that escaped. I pinched my eyes together tightly to try to keep the tears in. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. That would give him too much ammunition in the future. But without much prompting, Ryan released me and crawled off of me. I pushed him the rest of the way off and stood up, dusting my clothes off. Trying not to make a scene of myself wiping my eyes.
“Bells,” he said softly. If my head had been clearer, I might have mulled over the way his voice had taken on a delicate tone. But I was seething.
Ryan reached his hand out to me, palm facing up in a non-threatening gesture. I still swatted his hand away and gave him a sharp look. “Don’t. You’re dead to me. And for the last fucking time, it’s Izabel!”
The crowd around us had gone silent, waiting for the next round. Slowly, they started to part, and an angry-looking counselor walked into the makeshift ring they all had formed around us.
The counselor looked back and forth between Ryan and me for only a brief second before pointing at the two of us. “You two. Follow me. Now.”
I shot Ryan a glare, but I did as instructed. I could hear him grumbling under his breath as we followed the counselor in silence. Only the sound of our feet crunching in the gravel filled the void. My arms were crossed over my chest, my fists clenched into tight balls. I didn’t even grace Ryan with a glance as we did our walk of shame. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw him swipe at his nose, which must have still been bleeding. He had pulled the hem of his gray t-shirt up and held it to his face, applying pressure to his wound. The action caused a hint of his abs to peek through, and I quickly looked away, not wanting to be accused of ogling his body.
What a mess. This was all Ryan’s fault. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for him and his stupid pranks.
“This is your fault, you know,” I finally grumbled as we walked down the road to the counselor’s cabin.
Ryan looked at me. Something indescribable flashed across his face, and the softness that might have been there before was instantly shadowed by the usual mischievous glint. “How is this my fault? You damn near broke my nose.”
I shook my head. “Are you kidding? Did you forget the part where you hung up all my underwear for everyone to see?”
“It was a joke, Bells. You’re the one who punched me.”
“Don’t even try to put this on me, you stupid son of a?—”
“Enough!” the counselor interrupted me. “I don’t want to hear another word from you two until we’re there.”
I scowled at Ryan, who scowled right back at me. But we walked without another word until we stood in the counselor’s office. Inside was the head counselor of the camp and both headmasters of the schools, sporting looks of disappointment.
The part of me that liked to please slowly died inside as we took our places and suffered the wrath of the utter disapproval radiating from the adults present. My throat felt tight as I looked around the room, trying to hold back the tears threatening to make an appearance. To distract myself, I observed every corner of the office, focusing on the little things and not the grimace of my headmistress.
The room was small, with memorabilia hanging on every paneled oak wall. At the far end of the room sat the counselor and the headmasters. Their hands folded on top of the table, they watched us offenders come to stand in front of them, waiting for the story to unfold.
I took a deep breath as I finally leveled my gaze on the headmistress of Hawthorne Academy. With eyebrows were drawn in, the wrinkles near her eyes more pronounced. She was an older woman in her seventies. Her hair, which had once been a warm brown, was now gray. She was frail and thin, except for her gray eyes. They held the strength of forged metal as she glared down at Ryan and me. Those eyes had seen it all. It was clear she wasn’t amused by the situation before her.
“Miss Sanders,” the headmistress began with her stern voice. I solemnly looked at her, preparing to receive the tongue-lashing I knew was coming. “I never expected this kind of behavior from you.” She looked between the two of us. “Would you two like to explain yourselves?”
