Bishop’s fist connected with Eli’s mouth, driving him into the wall. Blood spurted, and Eli let out a muffled yell.
He rebounded quickly though, his head snapping back even as a smear of red trailed from the corner of his lips. He shoved Bish away from him, taking a swing of his own, and his fist connected right before Kace and Misael joined in.
For a moment, I thought the two other Lost Boys were going to haul Bishop away from Eli, to stop this before it got any worse. But I should’ve known better. The final thread of their self-control had snapped the second Eli had looked at me like that, and now it wasn’t just Bishop determined to bring the asshole down, but all three of them.
The boys descended on him, shoving and punching at Eli. The blond-haired newcomer was a good fighter in his own right though, and despite the assault from three sides, he managed to stay on his feet. He took their hits, blocked, and delivered some of his own, making fear and adrenaline surge through me with every punch. He was outnumbered though, and this was a fight he couldn’t win, no matter how hard he fought.
It was an unfair, messy thing, and I had a moment of horror as I watched the three boys I was falling in love with lose themselves to the monsters inside them.
But maybe I had a bit of that same monster in me too—because I didn’t make a move to stop them.
I wanted to.
I knew I should.
It’d been dangerous enough to poke around for information like this, hoping Eli would tell us something about my dad without Luke getting wind of it. But if we touched off a gang war on top of it, Nathaniel would be furious.
Blood spattered across the cracked and dirty cement, and for every hit Eli managed to land, he took three or more.
What the hell is wrong with you, Cora? How can you let this go on?
The fight couldn’t have been going on for more than a minute or two, but it felt like hours. It felt like it might never end. My body felt frozen in place, my heart lodged in my throat.
But before I could force myself into action, a voice spoke up from behind me.
Older. Male.
Full of a calm sort of anger that cut through the grunts and curses and cracks of fists against flesh.
“Alright, boys. That’s e-fucking-nough.”
My heart jumped, and I spun around, my eyes going wide.
Mr. Tyson?
Twenty-Two
I blinked at the history teacher, trying to read the expression on his face. He didn’t wear the same beaten down, disinterested look that many of the teachers here wore, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Why was he still here? Would he call the cops? Would he report the boys for fighting?
They’d never been called out by a teacher before. Not even by the principal or any of the school admins. Most of the Slateview staff ceded power to the boys, letting them rule the halls of the school because it spared the adults from having to do it. The Lost Boys kept peace, and no one tried to stop them.
Until now.
With his face set in a grim mask, Mr. Tyson made his way over to where the boys were still fighting, oddly undisturbed by the scene in front of him, as though he’d expected that something like this would happen. He grabbed Misael first by the back of his shirt and pushed him aside, and Misael almost took a swing at him before realizing just who it was. He arrested the movement of his fist, a confused look passing over his face.
Mr. Tyson had to work to separate Kace, Bishop, and Eli, but eventually he did, shoving Eli off toward the wall and keeping Bishop and Kace away from him.
I stayed rooted. I wasn’t sure what I should do even if I could move.
What’s going on? What made Mr. Tyson intervene now?
“Just what the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” Mr. Tyson asked in a low voice, swiveling his gaze around to look at all of the boys. “You know what the ramifications of this kind of shit could be, don’t you?”
“These motherfuck—” Eli started, baring bloodstained teeth as he pushed away from the wall, about to hurl himself toward the Lost Boys again.
But Mr. Tyson shoved him back, taking a step toward him.