Page 8 of Shattered

I keep my head down, focusing on my food rather than acknowledging him or the guys with him. Unfortunately, that only seems to fuel the fire, and he steps closer. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, though. Respond or ignore, the harassment continues.

Jacob wasn’t immediately released like we all thought he would be. Instead, there’s going to be a full-on trial, and as predicted, it has made waves through town and our school.

I’m ashamed to admit that there have been a few times when I have questioned his innocence. It’s not that I think one of my closest friends is capable of doing what was done, but it’s hard not to at least consider it when the majority of people are claiming he’s guilty. But then I always feel like shit afterward and quickly rid myself of those thoughts.

“Yo, fucking four-eyes, I’m talking to you.” Dylan, one of Jennifer’s idiot friends, pulls my glasses off my face.

I immediately reach out and snag them from his hand while pushing to my feet. People often mistake my quiet and calm nature for being a pushover, but it’s just that I don’t react to every little thing like Campbell and Jason do.

I’m feeling a little reactive right now, though, having had enough of the comments for the past few days. I return my glasses to my face and stare at the douche in front of me, who’s looking at me with hatred burning in his eyes, as if I personally did something to him. I have an inch or two on him in height, but he’s bulked up from playing football and probably fighting for fun.

He jabs a finger into my chest. “All you guys should pay for what happened.”

I suck in a steady breath through my nose, forcing myself to remain calm and try to convince myself to turn around and walk away. We only have a little over a week of school left. I just need to get through this shit, and then we can all move on.

Not to mention, once Jacob is out, they’ll all be feeling pretty fucking stupid.

I’m just about to take a step back when I hear a familiar “Hey!” from behind me, and then Jason appears, shoving the guy away from me, making him stumble a couple of steps. “Why don’t you fuck off, man.”

I barely have a chance to react when Dylan lunges at Jason, and they go flying into the table behind us, knocking food and trays to the ground to the sounds of screeching and grunting.

Oh, shit.

Everyone closest to us gathers around, hooting and hollering, and enjoying every second of the fists flying and bodies tumbling.

I, on the other hand, step in, trying to reach for Jason to break it up. “Jason. Fuck. He’s not worth it.” I don’t want him to get suspended right before graduation. That would break his mom’s heart.

“Neil!” a female voice calls as a rogue elbow lands directly in my gut, forcing a grunt from my lips.

Dodging more hits, I reach for Jason again and manage to pull him off Dylan. He flails in my grip for a moment before settling down, his chest heaving. With an angry scowl, Dylan pushes up from the ground, spitting blood. “Fucking loser.”

Sienna steps into my line of sight a second before the sounds of teachers arriving cause the crowd to break apart quickly. Her worried gaze catches mine as the students scatter. This isn’t the first fight he’s been in over the past few days—and I’m sure it won’t be the last, especially if people like Dylan keep giving him a reason—but it is the first one to happen during school.

***

“So, now he’s suspended.”

My mom quickly puts away a few dishes from the drying rack, still dressed in the uniform all the housekeepers wear at the hotel she works at, ready to head back there for her split shift.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she answers, obviously not paying attention.

My shoulders drop. “No, it’s not nice; graduation is next week.”

She blinks up at me like she didn’t even realize I was still talking, but then it finally sinks in. “Sorry, honey. I’m just a little busy right now. I need to get some things done before returning to the hotel.” She turns back to the sink, still not acknowledging what I said, and I’m left with that hollow feeling that opens up whenever I try to talk to her or Dad and I’m not given the time of day.

The back door opens a second later, and my annoyance instantly flares at the sight of my sister. I’ve always come second to her and her needs, an afterthought in my parents’ eyes. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are good people, and I don’t think they do it on purpose. It’s just that she’s always demanded more attention and has had issues for as long as I can remember, so I’ve always tried to make myself as little of a problem as possible. I think it worked a little too well, because I often fade into the background.

A couple of bags from name-brand stores are in my sister’s hands, so she’s obviously been shopping, which is funny considering she had to ask for rent money last week.

“Mom, look at these cute pajama pants I got.” There is no greeting or acknowledging that we may have been talking—there never is. She pulls something out of one of the bags and then thrusts it toward our mom. “That’s your pair. Aren’t they adorable?”

“Oh, Deanna, honey. I don’t need any pajamas.” I can hear the exhaustion in her voice as she says it, tired of having the same conversation with her over the years. I’m sure it’s the reason for her full head of gray hair at only forty-five.

As usual, it goes straight in one ear and out the other. “Mom, you always wear the same ones over and over. You need to treat yourself once in a while.”

I scoff. If Deanna didn’t constantly borrow and spend all their money, she probably would treat herself once in a while. And I would have been able to go to college.

The sound I make has Deanna turning her attention to me, a cruel smile pulling at her lips. “And how’s your little friend doing?” There’s no warmth in her voice. She’s not asking to be kind or because she cares. She’s always been the one with problems in this family, so she’s enjoying the fact that my friend turned out to be a predator . . . or so she thinks.

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