Page 11 of The Venom We Bleed

My jaw clenches tight. “What is?”

She doesn’t answer for a long moment as we examine one another. Then she props her elbows onto the edge of her desk and steeples her fingers together, resting her chin there. “Why so hesitant to tell me your side of things, Juliet?” she asks.

“I’m not.” Even as the words come out, I know they’re a lie. I don’t want to tell her the truth and listen to her pick apart every piece of my story. It’s what people have done for the last threemonths—all of them wondering if I truly had no clue about my father’s crimes and schemes.

Long hums in the back of her throat for a moment before rolling her chair back and standing up. My eyes go up and up some more. I hadn’t realized how tall she was.

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine,” she says, shocking me, but then her next words set me on edge. “How about I take a stab at it and you stop me if I get something wrong?” She rounds the desk with her long legs and leans back against the wood, crossing her arms over an ample chest.

“I’m guessing you were approached by the student you attacked, and she said something about the fact that Mr. Donovan is in jail and Mrs. Donovan has seemingly fled town.”

The mention of my parents makes my whole body go rigid in the chair. She eyes me up and down, but despite her incorrect assumption, I don’t say a word. I’m curious to see how far she’ll take things.

“Before I saw you walk into my office here, I knew there would be some trouble considering the last few months. Now, that I’ve seen you?—”

“I’m more trouble than I’m worth?” I guess, cutting her off.

She smirks and shakes her head. There’s a note of sorrow and almost … sympathy in her eyes when she looks at me again. I hate that. I don’t want sympathy. I want to be left the fuck alone.

Instead of answering my question, however, she nods to the blue strands of hair that trail down either side of my face. “Dyed your hair to change your look, huh?”

I shrug. “Just felt like a change.” It’s not a total lie.

Long grins at me. “Sure you did, kiddo.”

I scowl. “Don’t call me that,” I snap. “I’m eighteen. If I’m old enough to take care of myself, pay taxes, get a job, and skip the system then I’m not a kid.”

“You’re also old enough to get arrested for battery.” Long’s statement is delivered with little more than a quirk of her brow and I have no response for it. After a beat, she sighs and turns her head. One long, unpainted nail presses a button on the landline sitting on her desk. “Mrs. Rogers, can you please cancel my morning meeting?”

Above our heads, the speaker crackles as the bell signaling the start of first period sounds. Long returns to her earlier posture as the bell stops and Mrs. Rogers’ reply comes through. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll make a note and send out an email.”

“Come on.” Principal Long straightens away from her desk and uses two fingers to gesture for me to stand. I ball up the tissue still in my hand and get to my feet. She strides for the door, leaving me to follow behind her. On the way out, I toss the bloodied tissue into the waste paper basket and ignore Mrs. Rogers’ curious gaze as I’m led out of the office and into the now deserted front hall.

“Where are we going?”

Without looking back, Long replies. “You’ll see.”

I don’t like that answer, but short of beating a real response out of her, I don’t think I’ll get anything more. I’ve already punched one person today and made myself more than known to the school. Attacking the principal won’t help. So, I keep following her instead of turning the fuck around and walking right past the added metal detectors at the front of the building and the doors waiting for me.

5

JULIET

Ieye the girl standing before me in a pair of jean cut-offs so short I’m shocked they still manage to cover most of her ass. Principal Long doesn’t even blink at the bare midriff the chick is sporting beneath the ripped black t-shirt that reads ‘suck on this’—as if she’s long since overcome the idea of enforcing a dress code amongst the crowd at Silverwood Public.

“Juliet Donovan, meet Roquel Lee.”

The girl—Roquel—blows the gum she’s chewing into a bubble that pops across her lips. Her tongue swipes out, gathering the sticky pink substance, and brings it back into her mouth before she finally takes a step forward and holds out her hand to me. “Nice to meet you.”

I grimace but take her hand regardless and drop it quickly after the greeting is finished.

“Your punishment regarding this morning’s fight will be an in-school suspension Tuesday through Friday,” Long states. “I’d rather not start out today since, well, we don’t have anyone to watch you and no one else will be there. I’ll speak with Megan about what happened this morning. I’d put her in ISS too … if I thought the two of you could be trusted to be alone in a roomtogether. As it stands, I don’t. So, her punishment will either be the following week or something else.”

I don’t comment.

“Roquel here,” Long continues, “is going to be your guard dog for the rest of today.”

“Guard dog?” I blurt. Are principals allowed to say that?

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