Page 25 of Ghosts Don't Cry
His smirk slips, turning sharper. He shoves me again, harder this time. Pain shoots through my shoulder. I bite down on the inside of my cheek and taste copper. I stumble back a step before catching myself, fingers fisting at my side.
I arch one eyebrow. “That all you got?”
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
But I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of being pushed around, of making myself small, and I’m especially tired of people like Dan who think they own the world just because they’ve never had to fight for a place in it.
That’s all it takes.
His expression hardens. The next shove is harder, enough to knock me off balance. My bag slips, and my notebook hits the floor. Pages scatter—all my survival notes, my maps of safe places. All of it exposed. Laughter ripples through the crowd.
Gas station bathrooms. Dumpster schedules. Sleeping location. My whole life spills across dirty linoleum for everyone to see.
The laughter hurts more than any punch could, but instead of scrambling to pick it up and hide it, I straighten to my full height and lift my head, holding his gaze. My hands shake so bad I have to clench them into fists. My vision blurs at the edges.
I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me desperate. If they’re going to see my shame, they’ll see my defiance too.
Mr. Edwards appears, voice ringing out.
“Hartman.” There’s a warning in his tone, but Dan doesn’t take any notice.
His smirk lingers because he knows he’s won. Everyone has already seen what they needed to see. He glances at Edwards, then back to me, and down to the papers scattered at our feet. He’s committed now. Backing down means losing face, and guys like Dan can’t handle that.
He shifts his balance, muscles in his arm tensing, and I brace myself for the incoming punch.
Edwards steps between us. “Enough.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “Principal’s office.Now. Both of you.”
Both. Like I’m equally responsible, because defending myself makes me guilty too.
I crouch and gather my pages slowly. My hands won’t stop shaking. The crowd has already seen enough though, and decided what kind of story this will become.
Someone nudges a sheet toward me with their foot. A small kindness in the midst of humiliation. I look up. It’s the girl from my history class. The one who writes the notes. She won’t meet my eyes, but she’s sent the paper close enough for me to reach it.
Once I have everything secured in my bag, I turn and follow Edwards to the principal’s office. My legs are water. My shoulder throbs with every step. The walk is endless.
Edwards doesn’t say a word, just keeps pace beside me.
The principal speaks to Dan first, a quick conversation that has him leaving her office with a glare in my direction. I take his place, slumping in the seat he vacated. The chair is still warm from his body heat. The principal looks up from the open file on her desk, and I can see it in her expression. She’s already decided what kind of problem I am.
The file is thin. I’ve only been here a month. From across the desk, I can see the red flags highlighted in yellow. No permanent address listed. Absent parents. Uncle works away. Doesn’t take part in any clubs.
All the markers of a kid who doesn’t fit.
“Mr. Edwards saw everything.” She sets down her pen. “Daniel was the aggressor, but you were involved. The school has a zero-tolerance policy for fighting.”
“I didn’t touch him. But I’m not going to let him shove me around.” I wouldn’t have seen the slight shift in her expression if I wasn’t watching for it. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
Her fingers tighten on her pen. Just enough to tell me I’m right.
She sighs. “Even when one person starts it, situations like this escalate quickly. We have to step in to prevent retaliation.”
It’s a veiled warning. Dan is part of the football team. He gets a pass. I’m the outsider. I don’t.
“Preventing retaliation. That’s what we’re calling it?”
Her eyes narrow at my tone. “Ronan. I understand things are difficult at home?—”
“You don’t understand shit.”
