Before I can even roll my eyes at his little game, Christian steps in front of me and shoves Benton. Hard. His back hits the lockers, and he looks almost as confused as I am.
Well, that escalated quickly.
“Quit being a dick and give her the fucking books,” Christian demands through clenched teeth. Benton throws my books down and pushes Christian back.
“What the fuck’s your problem? If I didn’t know you were gayer than a bag of dicks, I might think you’re jealous.” Benton looks smug, but it doesn’t last long because Mr. James is now walking toward us looking his
tall, imposing, sexy as fuck self.
“Break it up, ladies,” Mr. James says, sounding bored as he looks between Dumb and Dumber. Neither one says a word.
I don’t even know what the fuck just happened. Up until now, Benton was a harmless douche. A cocky little fucker who’s annoying but never malicious. But even more shocking is Christian’s behavior. I don’t even know what triggered that reaction.
When Mr. James is tired of their silent act, he orders everyone to get moving.
I bend over to grab my scattered books and head to lunch.
“Hey, Remi, right?” I turn toward the voice, and a little raven-haired Hispanic girl is hurrying in my direction.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I ask as I adjust my knee sock in the hall. School is out, but I still have detention. Awesome.
“I’m Samantha LaFirst. Or just Sam. We have second period together?” she states it as a question.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I think we have English together, too.”
“Yep.” She nods. “You need a poncho for the first row in that class.” She laughs.
“So I’ve noticed,” I grumble.
“Anyway, I’m an office aide for my third period, and Christian told me to tell you not to wait up. He went home.”
“I figured as much.” Something’s up with him today. “Thanks for letting me know, though.”
“For sure. See you tomorrow.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I see a text from my dad.
Hey, Hurricane. Just stopping for lunch and thought I’d check in. Staying out of trouble?
Dad calls me Hurricane Remi. Says I’m a force to be reckoned with, like my mom, and always causing trouble. If he only knew the kind of trouble I was looking for. I decide to respond later because I need to get to detention. Just as I turn the corner by Mr. James’ class, Mikaela comes into view.
“What are you looking at?” she snaps.
“I’m not really into snap judgments, but if I had to guess, I’d say I’m looking at an entitled, narcissistic little girl who is threatened by anyone other than herself getting attention and wears her mean girl mask to hide her insecurities. But, like I said, I’m not into snap judgments.”
Mikaela’s mouth drops open, but I don’t give her a chance to respond. I walk directly to my seat in Mr. James’ class. Mikaela steps in behind me, all but pouting.
“Ladies,” Mr. James greets from behind his desk. “Read. Do your homework. Contemplate the meaning of life. I don’t care. No phones and no talking.”
I give him a mock salute and pull out a notebook. His mouth twitches. Mikaela sighs dramatically and studies her nails. It’s going to be a long week.
I don’t know what I was expecting to accomplish or achieve with detention, but whatever it was—it didn’t happen. Maybe it was Mikaela’s presence in the room—it had to be, I convince myself—because Pierce James has never been so cold and disinterested in me in our entire short relationship.
It’s been five torturous days of detention. Five days of being in the same room as Mr. James and having to act unaffected. Five days of ignoring death stares from Mikaela. Five days of watching her shamelessly attempt to flirt her way out of detention and resisting the urge to strangle her. It’s been five days of hell, so why don’t I feel happy that it’s over?
“All right, Miss Stringer, Miss Stephens. Detention is officially over. Let’s try not to waste any more of each other’s time in the future.” Mikaela is out the door before he even finishes his sentence. I take a slower approach, contemplating my next move.
“Everything okay, Miss Stringer?” Mr. James asks as I study the doodles in my notebook.