I squirm. “Um, Mr. Nichols, I don’t—”
Mr. Nichols puts his hand up. “Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Monroe. I was warned about you on my first day. While other teachers may be hesitant to say anything, I’m not. I want to see my students treat each other with respect. Given your circumstances with Ms. Matterson, one would think you’d want to treat her with more respect than anybody here.”
Sinking into my chair, I let my hair shield my face. The headache I was glad to be rid of is coming back, taunting me. It’s the slightest drum of pain, a dull pound of a bass beat where my spine meets my skull. Stress induced, for sure.
Part of me wants to cut in and tell them to forget about it. I don’t need this right now. I don’t think either would listen. Mr. Nichols seems intent on making a point, and Kaiden seems intent on ignoring it.
“Emery doesn’t mean anything to me just because we live under the same roof,” Kaiden states dryly, sparing me no look.
His words sting. I wish they didn’t because it isn’t a surprise to me. He’s shown me indifference ninety percent of the time. It isn’t like he’s put in an effort that proves otherwise.
Mr. Nichols reaches for something. “I suppose you’ll have time to consider how you treat people in detention tomorrow after school. If you miss that, you’ll go to in school suspension on Monday.”
My lips part in shock.
Kaiden’s jaw ticks. “Fine.”
Mr. Nichols jots something down on a pad of paper before ripping a piece off and setting it on the edge of the desk. “You may be excused, Mr. Monroe.”
Kaiden gets up and grabs the paper before heading out of the room. I toy with my notebook before finally meeting Mr. Nichols eyes.
“Like I said, Emery. You and I are similar. However, as I get older, I realize how important it is to stand up for myself. You can’t let people walk over you like that.”
How sad. My only true friend at Exeter High is my English teacher.
The headache starts to worsen, burning my eyes, and I don’t have any Motrin in my backpack.
“I’m not feeling well,” I tell him quietly. Standing up, I slip my belongings in my backpack before sliding the strap over my shoulder. “I think I’m going home.”
“Emery—”
“Thank you, Mr. Nichols.”
Noticing Kaiden’s car missing in the lot, I start the walk home. By the time I make it to the front door, everything hurts.
At least I can turn the knob this time.
Chapter Ten
On Saturday morning, I wake up to see a missed call from Mama. It jumpstarts my heart until I realize there’s no voicemail. She called at three in the morning.
She found Lo at three in the morning.
Today marks the official nine-year anniversary of Logan’s death. When realization hits, my heart plummets into the pit of my stomach like it’s made of cement. Mama reached out to me because of Lo.
And I didn’t pick up.
Why didn’t I hear it ring?
It’s on silent.
Feeling tears build in my eyes, I blink them away and rub the back of my wrists against my closed eyelids. I won’t cry. Mama could have left a message and told me to call her back. She could have texted me saying she loved me or that she missed Logan.
She never once told me she missed her with words.
Throwing the blankets off my overheated body, I head to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and my lips are chapped and bleeding. The girl in the glass looks pathetic, and I’m sick of looking at her.
Sometimes I wish I could break the glass—put my fist right through it without risking cuts and infections. Maybe I’ll tack a sheet over it so I don’t have to see the reminder of who I’m forced to be.