Page 50 of Riot Act
Hah! I’d pay good money to see him try and force me out of this classroom. The man’s as thin as a reed and can’t weigh more than a buck forty soaking wet. If he so much as thinks about laying a finger on me, I’ll have his face smashed into his precious whiteboard and his shoulder out of its joint before he can say, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry, I don’t know what the hell came over me!’’
Professor Radley’s face turns an off, grey shade, like he can picture the scene I’m painting in my head with vivid clarity. He looks like he’s already rethinking his threat. Still. I go easy on the guy. This is his first infraction. “I’ll stay,” I growl. Not an agreement that I’ll behave myself. More of a fact. Ahead of me, Chase clears her throat, her attention returning to her textbook like nothing even happened. Four chairs over, sitting by the door, Elodie Stillwater glowers at me with the ferocity of a thousand burning suns. She shakes her head, and I know I’m going to hear about this later. I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t fucking care what she thinks.
The rest of the class drags by; every second feels like a minute, every minute an hour. I refrain from looking at Chase again, though it takes a monumental effort not to jump out of my seat, grab her and drag her out of here so I can find out what the fuck she’s playing at.
As soon as the deep tolling of Wolf Hall’s bell reverberates through the hallway, I grab my shit, sling it all in my bag, and I head calmly from the room. Chase stays. Chase waits. She’s waiting for me to disappear and move on to my next class, but I’m not going anywhere. I slip around the corner and post up against the wall, waiting for her.
Elodie finds me first, and she’s as mad as a cat on a hot tin roof. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? Why do you have to be so vile to everyone you cross paths with? It must be exhausting.”
I stare over the top of her head, watching the door to Econ like a hawk. “You havenoidea.”
“Can’t you just be nice for once? Can’t you just allowone personsome peace, without targeting them in some vicious game?”
I make eye contact with Wren’s girl. I flare my nostrils, eyes blazing. “I’m not the one playing games. I’m not targeting her for shit. She’s the one messing with me. Just…fuck off and mind your business.”
Elodie’s eyes flash. She prods me, hard, in the center of my chest. “You’re acting crazy. Presley isn’t ‘messing with you.’ She’s scared shitless of you—”
“Yeah, that’s whatIthought.”
“And even if she was, have you considered that you might deserve it?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She laughs. “Have you ever thought about all of the people you’ve hurt here, and wondered if you’re a massive piece of shit because of it?”
This girl. I swear to God,this girl.She has a fucking death wish. I push away from the wall, looming over her. “I don’t really give a shit about the people I’ve fucked with in the past,Little E.” I use Wren’s nickname for her in a mocking tone. “I don’t agonize over every single one of my actions because I’m hoping to win any popularity contests. I do whatever I like, and fuck what anyone else thinks. That includes you.I do not care what you think.Now back the fuck off.”
Elodie doesn’t budge an inch, which is kind of commendable, I guess. I go around her, heading to the doorway of the classroom, but the room is empty now. Not a student in sight. Only Professor Radley remains, rubbing a little wool brush over the spot on his tie. He sees me and his lips thin. “Mr. Davis. Something I can help you with?”
“Absolutelynot.”
19
PAX
Wolf Hall’s a drafty, massive old bitch of a place with countless secret alcoves. There’s only so long a person can hide, however, before they need to go to class. Or go take a leak. Or buy food. I find her, tucked away in a corner of the dining hall, eating by herself. I slap my burrito down on the table and sit down on the chair opposite her. She pulls her tray toward her chest…and away fromme. “Sorry. I—uh—” Delicate lines form between her eyebrows. “Are you all right?”
I lunge for her before she can draw back. Grabbing her by the forearm, I rip back the long sleeve of her sweater. There, just as I knew it would be, is a thin hospital-grade gauze dressing, covering her mending wrists. She hisses, ripping her arm free, hurriedly pulling the sweater sleeve down. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“No. What the fuck areyoudoing? You think this is funny or something?”
“I’m just trying to eat my lunch.”
“You transferred into Econ.”
“I didnot!”
“You’re seriously trying to tell me that you’ve been in that class all along, and I was just so oblivious that I never noticed you?”
“YES!”
I shake my head. “Not true.”
Two tiny little red spots bloom on Chase’s cheeks. I can’t stop staring at them. “Why?” she hisses. “Why isn’t it true? Why is it so impossible to believe that we’ve been in the same class for so long? You’ve never noticed me before, Pax. I’m in nearlyallof your classes. We’ve been living in close proximity of one another for almost four years and I can count on one hand how many times you’ve looked at me and acknowledged my existence.”
“That’s so fucking hyperbolic—”
“No! It’s not!” The pitch of her voice climbs higher. “Four years, Pax.Four years!We’ve eaten in this dining hall together. Walked the same hallways. Sat in the same classrooms. We’ve breathed the same air, for fuck’s sake, and you’ve hardly noticed my existence. So no, it’s not a hyperbolic statement. It’s the truth!”
