Page 1 of Pitcher

I’m not sorry.

Not even a little bit.

The asshole deserved it.

“Anniston, do you have something to say to Preston?”

I smile sweetly at the round man, known as the principal of Hawkins Middle School, home of the suck-tastic tigers. I’ve been trapped in this mauve-colored room that smells like bad decisions and mold for over an hour now. I’m bored and I have yet to see the point of Principal Taffert’s stern scolding. Can’t he see Preston is a lying, fourteen-year-old, sack of dog shit?

Why is it only me who sees his true colors? Me, who sees the rotting of his evil soul as he sits all surly, holding a bag of ice to his face.

“I…” I chance a look at my grandpa, his hands clasped over his dirt-stained overalls. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve the granddaughter he was left in charge of. He deserves a good girl, one who acts like a lady. Unfortunately, he isn’t so lucky.

With a devilish smirk, I meet the glare of Preston and his haughty mother next to him and smile as sweetly as I can. “I wish Coach Carey would have taken longer smoking his cigarette in the supply closet so I could have broken more than your nose, assface.”

“Anniston,” my grandfather says on a sigh.

“Hines,” Principal Taffert says over Preston’s mother’s gasp of horror. “As much as I hate to do this, I must suspend Anniston for the rest of the school year. We can’t encourage this kind of behavior.” He looks at me and frowns. “Even from a girl.”

That’s right, Preston! A girl beat your ass. How’s that taste? I bet it tastes bitter, much like big, salty tears of defeat. Little bitch.

“I understand, John. Grace and I will handle this at home.”

I don’t even spare my grandfather a look. All I’m looking at is the bump on Preston’s nose that I hope will haunt him the rest of his life. Maybe he’ll remember it the next time he decides to be a bully.

“I’m sure you will,” Principal Taffert responds before clearing his throat and addressing me. “Anniston, I hope to see a changed young lady next year. Use this time to reflect on your actions and decide on the type of woman you want to be.”

I want to be an ass-kicker, John. A Katniss freaking Everdeen.

“I will, sir.”

I will hone my right hook and make sure I go for Preston’s balls the next time he dares breathe in my direction.

Standing, my grandfather motions for me to follow.

“We’re so sorry,” he says to Preston’s mother who is still sitting like she has on the tightest pair of underwear imaginable. She manages a “humph,” and I almost want to take a swing at her for birthing such a horrible human, but I don’t.

Hines McCallister is a patient, God-fearing man, but if you get on his bad side, he will act first and ask for forgiveness later.

Before I can get us into any more trouble, I slam the office door behind me and follow like the dutiful granddaughter I am.

“Did he tease you about your mother or father?” he asks when we leave the building to walk to his truck, which is parked in a visitor space in the front of the building.

I shrug at his back. My grandfather has worked hard to build a life for me. He’s sacrificed so much to make sure I have everything I need. I want to protect him from the ugly truth, like he’s always protected me.

“Anniston…,” he prompts softly and oh so patiently.

I’d rather go back inside and deal with Taffert than to break my grandfather’s heart.

“Last week,” I swallow, “in computer lab…”

“Last week, what?” he urges.

I sigh. “I had a hard time typing, and he saw.”

Gently. You must be gentle with Hines McCallister.

The lines in his forehead crease before he frowns, looking much older than a few minutes ago. “Was it a flare up?”

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