The headmaster opens the door, and we both erect our spines.
“Hello, Mr. James, Miss Stephens.”
“Hello,” I say, neutral as always, and Mikaela scurries away.
And I feel just a little more alive than I did when I first walked into school.
I see Benton in the hallway leaning against Mikaela’s locker. She’s French kissing him to oblivion and back, but he looks like he’s barely holding back his lunch. When he sees Christian, though, he becomes ravenous. He snakes his hand into her skirt, and it rides up as he touches her sensitive skin where Pierce touched me yesterday, putting on a show. I look back at Christian across the hall, staring at them like they are everything that’s wrong with the world. And to him, they are.
I rush over to him, slinging my backpack on both shoulders. Christian says I’m the only teenager he knows who actually still uses a backpack. I elbow him and pepper the gesture with a wink.
“Looking hot, mister.”
“Yeah? Not hot enough for the guy I want, obviously.”
I let my eyes drift to Benton and Mikaela’s direction. I don’t know what Christian sees in Herring, but whatever it is, I wish he could unsee it, because it makes my best friend seriously upset.
“Leave it alone.” I tug on his uniform shirt, and he wiggles free from my touch and walks over to Benton. I grab his arm and pull him in the other direction, but Christian is a force to be reckoned with when he’s mad. Apparently, anyway. He’s bolting to Herring’s direction, and the crowd slices open for him, like Moses parting the Red Sea, because everything about Christian’s body language screams fight, and everyone is out for blood, especially when it’s not theirs.
“The fuck!” I hear Benton’s voice screaming before the thud of his back slamming against Mikaela’s locker sends my heart somersaulting in my chest. I scurry toward Christian again, trying to pull him away from the scene, muttering, “he’s not worth it” and “please stop” and hating the way this is unfolding before everyone’s eyes, because Christian might be openly gay, but Benton isn’t, and he seems like the type to recklessly do something horrible when things don’t go his way.
“You’re an asshole!” Christian screams in Benton’s face, spit flying out of his mouth in the heat of the moment. People are circling the four of us. Some pull out their phones and take pictures while a lot of them whisper into each other’s ears. Mikaela’s eyes dart to mine, and her eyebrows furrow. She doesn’t make a move to stop them from fighting, and for a flash second, I wonder if she knows her boyfriend is gay. She has to know he isn’t interested in what she’s packing.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Benton laughs, but it’s an unnatural, nervous laugh. Anyone can know that, I’m sure.
“You’re a coward,” Christian pushes his chest, “and a fraud.” He proceeds. “You’re a liar. You’re a pawn. You’re a fucking little pussy.” Christian is on a roll now, and I want to throw myself between them, but selfishly know this would mean that I am going to be labeled “that girl” for the rest of the school year. Though I’m starting not to care.
“Are you high again? You look like a freak with that nose piercing.”
“It’s a septum, you trash, and your tongue was playing with it just a few days ago.”
Holy. Shit.
Benton Herring’s face contorts in anger and betrayal, and before I have the chance to stop him, he tackles Christian to the floor and slams his fists into his face while straddling him. I hook my arm around Herring’s neck and try to pull him away, but he is too big and strong for me. He doesn’t budge.
“Help! Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you people?” I cry out as Herring mercilessly punches Christian like he’s nothing but a ragdoll.
“Please,” I say again, trying to drag Herring from above Christian. I can’t see my friend’s face. It’s so bloodied I can’t even distinguish his facial features anymore. I want to kill Benton. I want to yell my lungs out at Christian. Herring slows down, but I’m not sure why. The adrenaline in my body blinds me. Deafens me. People are shouting around me, and then they aren’t. The commotion stops. I feel a firm, strong hand lifting me up to my feet, and it’s Mr. James. Before I have the chance to react and fall into his arms and bawl my eyes out—wrong thing to do, Remi. Very wrong—he jerks Benton up by the collar of his shirt.
“Someone call an ambulance,” he instructs, and my heart shatters on the floor right next to Christian when I take a good look at his face for the first time since he sort-of outed Benton.
“Jesus.” I cup my mouth with both my hands. “Christ. Oh my God, Christian.” I rush over to him and touch his head very gently. He looks dead. Legit ruined.
Herring must be taken away by someone else, because Pierce is right beside me a second later, peeling my hands off of Christian’s face.
“Go to class, Miss Stringer,” he orders, but his voice is oh-so-soft. Like velvet on my skin. I’m trying not to let it influence me, but there’s no denying it anymore. I’m his, and every single piece of me belongs to this man to do whatever he wants with me. Me, Remington Stringer, who’s been let down by every single man in her life. Every single man…but Mr. James.
“I’m so worried about him,” I say, and as I do, I realize that I’m crying. My salt tears are in my mouth, and I shake my head, like this is somehow my fault.
“I’ll keep you posted when I know more,” he whispers to me, knowing it’s wrong.
I nod. “Thank you.”
I walk to class feeling like a total loser. In the hallway, people are still scattered around, and I hear them gossiping without even dropping their voice down.
“What was that all about?”
“Chambers basically outed Benton in front of the whole school.”