Page 52 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I half-turn to glance at Cassius.

He’s sitting there with his elbows propped on the table, his head in his hands, mouth open with shock like he doesn’t know exactly where this book came from.

“Sit!”

My ass thumps into the chair.

“Hand out. Flat on the desk.”

I turn wide, pleading eyes to Sister Sharon but my hand’s already moving over the wooden desk. She uses the tip of her rule to flip closed the textbook, and then taps the far side of my desk.

“Here.”

My hand slides to the spot she selected. I close my eyes and drop my head, stifling a gasp when she brings her ruler down on the back of my hand.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack!

It’s like she’s trying to beat the sexual deviancy out of me. I keep my head down even when I hear her walking away. Then I glance back at Cassius without lifting it.

There’s no mistaking the satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“Why?” I mouth to him, blinking back tears of pain. I slide my hand back and cradle it in my lap as I wait for his answer.

“Eyes up front!” Sharon slaps her ruler on the edge of her desk, and the whole class sits up, me included.

When she turns her back again, I’m already anticipating the warm breath on the side of my neck, and Cassius’s smooth voice in my ears.

“I don’t like you, New Girl,” Cassius murmurs. “I think you should go back to where you came from.”

“Fuck you.” I sit forward so I don’t have to listen to him anymore.

A hand knots in my curly hair. Cassius wrenches my head back. I’m so shocked, I don’t even gasp.

His lips brush the shell of my ear as he whispers. “I’m just getting started. If I were you, I’d find a new school.”

I spend the rest of the lesson silently seething as I try to ignore my aching knuckles and scalp.

As soon as the bell rings Cassius swaggers past me and out the door.

I scoop up my things and hurry after him.

Words are going to be said. Possibly even yelled. I won’t stand for this and Cassius is going to know it in the next five seconds.

“Not so fast, Trinity.”

I skid to a halt by Sister Sharon’s desk.

“Sister?” I do my best to look humbled and not like I’m on my way to attack someone in the hallway.

She perches on the edge of her chair before taking a piece of paper from her drawer. Bowing her head, she starts writing. “This behavior is unacceptable.”

I open my mouth but she doesn’t allow me to speak.

“You’ve caused enough disruption by joining my class so late in the year—I won’t stand for further theatrics.”

---