Page 417 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

That’s when I realize he’s responsible. I don’t know how, but I knowwhy.

I hurry toward the school, Jude a few steps behind me. I’m hypnotized by the surreal moment, by the muted chatter of kids and the way they stare with glazed eyes toward the school.

The main hallway is empty except for the group of teachers further up the hall by a row of lockers. The smell of burned paper and melted paint hangs thick in the air. The principal is there too, and he’s holding a fire extinguisher. One of the teachers is busy scraping burnt things out of a locker.

Mylocker.

My view of the commotion is blocked off when someone walks in front of me. I recognize them instantly, but by then it’s already too late. I glance over my shoulder, but Jude is nowhere in sight. Even though the principal is only a few yards away, I’m as terrified as if I’d been trapped in a blind alley.

Sean’s easy grin turns my guts to stone.

I’ve been avoiding them like the plague ever since the party, and they haven’t gone out of their way to be close to me either. I guess they realized that I wasn’t going to rat them out for what happened when two weeks passed without them being called to the police station or the principal’s office.

“Got your message,” Sean says, a dimple forming in his cheek as his smile becomes a little lopsided. His casual wave takes in the smoke and the bits of charred paper and the concernedexpressions of the teachers clustered around my burned-out locker. “Hope you get mine,cunt.”

He pushes past me so hard that I stumble and bounce off the wall. My backpack thumps to the ground but I leave it there, too shocked to do anything but stare after Sean and his posse as they leave the way I came in.

My…message?

“Shit, Harper.” I turn my head, watching as Jude ambles up to me wearing a faint grimace. “What will Dad say when he finds out you’ve destroyed school property?”

It’s the first time he’s called Wayne my father.

Honest to God, I hope it’s the last.

Jude shoves a hand into his blazer and pulls out my phone. “Here. It must have fallen out in the truck.”

It’s warm from being in his pocket. I’m tempted to throw it in the nearest trash bin because somehow I already know what I’m going to find when I unlock it.

Sure enough, when I check the last message I sent, my skin goes cold.

To: Sean

You won’t get away with this. I’m going to the principal.

Chapter 33

Harper

My body goes ice-cold when I hear tires crunching over gravel. Wayne and my mom are home. Even with my hands in fists, they still feel like they’re trembling when the front door opens. I’m standing on the landing, too nervous to wait inside my room for the sentence about to be handed down.

Wayne glances up as if he can sense me, and his mouth thins into a grim line. He beckons me with a flick of his fingers, and Mom follows him into the kitchen without looking up at me. I take the stairs, my insides quivering like jelly and as soon as I round the corner, my eyes fill with hot tears. “I didn’t do it!”

She goes to the wine cooler and grabs a random bottle by the neck. I flinch when she puts it down with a loud clack on the marble countertop.

“Sit,” Wayne says.

I creep closer, head down and eyes on the floor as I slide into a barstool opposite my stepfather. “I didn’t do it,” I whisper. “Please, you have to?—”

“They sent me a quote for the repairs,” he cuts in. “I’ll be taking every cent from your allowance until you’ve fully reimbursed me.”

A tear races down my cheek, but not because I’m terrified. I’m pissed off as all hell.

“Why would I do it?” I ask stiffly, trying to sound calm and reasonable, not at all like an arsonist. “All my stuff was in there. Stuff Iliked. Doesn’t it make more sense that someone else?—?”

“You’ve been there barely a month.” My gaze darts up to my mom. She’s nursing a wine glass to her chest, her eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would someone want to burn your stuff?”

And this is what it all comes down to. To defend myself, I’ll have to tell them it was Sean. Then they’d want to know why he’d want to destroy my stuff. So I’d have to tell them about the party. Detention, expulsion, perhaps being grounded for the rest of my life might actually be easier and less humiliating. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be punished for this.

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