Wild Girl (Slateview High 2)

Recognition flashed in his wild, moss-green eyes. Then something like shame, and a deep, soul-crushing pain.

He stared at me, fists still raised, frozen in space. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep, his chest rising and falling.

But he’d stopped. That was all I’d wanted.

We held eye contact, and I stepped toward him tentatively, like someone approaching a feral animal. But at that moment, the other boy used the distraction to land a heavy blow against the side of Kace’s face.

“Fuck you!” the guy grunted, and my stomach clenched with fear as I watched darkness overtake Kace’s expression.

Shit.

Maybe that idiot boy didn’t know it, but he was playing with fire. Signing his own damn death warrant.

Kace’s eyes flashed again, and he rounded on the guy, his entire body seeming to swell with rage. I threw myself toward him, ready to do whatever I could to stop him from fighting, as useless as I knew my efforts would be.

But arms wrapped around me from behind at the same moment Bishop stalked forward, hauling Kace away from the other boy. As soon as Misael was sure I wouldn’t move, he let go of me, stepping up to put his body between Kace

and the boy he’d been fighting.

“E-fucking-nough,” Bishop growled, his voice low, meant only for Kace. “Get your shit together, dude. Now.”

Kace struggled, rage making him wild, and for a second, I thought he might take a swing at Bish. My stomach dropped like a rock, and I stepped forward again, my breath so shallow from fear that it was hard to speak. But I forced the words out anyway, finding the wild boy’s gaze as I spoke

“Kace. Please…”

He looked to me, that same pain and regret flickering in his eyes, before he pulled his arm from Bishop’s hold. He stalked away, and the crowd parted for him like a wave, none of them eager to end up being the new target of Kace’s anger.

Bishop sighed, and the other guy took a step back from Misael.

“Your boy needs to rein himself in,” he huffed, putting a hand to his bloodied face. “He fucking bumped into me and then decided to start swinging for no damn reason at all.”

Bishop just looked at him with a dark, steady gaze. When his complaint got no response, the guy scoffed and left, elbowing his way through the crowd and leaving little droplets of blood on the cracked linoleum of the cafeteria floor.

My heart was still beating too hard and fast, and I bit my lip as I stared in the direction that Kace had gone. Last time he’d gotten hit in the face, I had taken him into the bathroom to clean the blood from his face… and had ended up on my knees in front of him, his cock between my lips.

I had a half-formed impulse to go to him again, to offer him whatever comfort I could, in whatever form he would take it, but before I could move, Misael took me by the shoulders, checking me over to make sure I hadn’t gotten hit by a stray fist.

“I’m okay,” I muttered, still looking distractedly over my shoulder.

“You gotta wait for us next time, Coralee.” Misael shook his head, worry reflecting in his dark eyes. “Don’t go running into a fight like that.”

“I—I won’t,” I said, turning back to him as the crowd around us began to disperse.

It was a lie, and I was sure he knew it. My actions hadn’t even been a conscious choice at the time. They’d been born of nothing but a desperate impulse to keep Kace from letting the rage inside his heart destroy him.

Regular conversation slowly resumed around us, and Bishop and Misael led me to a table. They sat close to me, one on either side, nudging me to take bites of my food every now and then as I pushed it around on my plate.

Kace’s fight was the talk of the school for the rest of the day, though I didn’t see him in the halls after. It worried me—a worry that was only eased when I made my way to Bishop’s car after school. The broad-shouldered blond boy leaned against it, idly digging the toe of his shoe into the gravel of Slateview’s shoddy parking lot. When I approached, he looked up, and his light green eyes were clearer than they had been at lunch.

Misael and Bish were already in the car, and as I stepped up to Kace, I reached out and brushed my fingers down the back of his hand, briefly tangling them with his. I saw his whole body tense, then his hand gave a small squeeze back.

“You okay?” I asked softly.

“Yeah.”

I almost believed him. He was better than he had been at lunch, but “okay”? Definitely not. He was more in control, his emotions more contained again.

But he was stressed. We all were.