Page 54 of Saving Sparrow
I picked up my pace, and so did they.
“Hey, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. No need to be a dick about it.”
I didn’t know who’d said that. By then my head was swimming, and I was pretty sure I’d bumped into a crowd of students exiting a class.
The halls were filling up quickly now, and I weaved through people, no longer sure where I was headed. I found my locker, fumbling with the combination when Dexter slammed a hand down on it.
“We really need to tell Ballbuster to stop letting the weirdos in, don’t we, Chad?”
“Fucking A,” Chad said.
“Are you even one of us?” Dexter flicked my braid over my shoulder. “You sure as fuck don’t look like one of us. I’m not sure we feel comfortable with you in our locker room. Do we, guys?”
“Hey! Leave him alone.” Miguel’s voice came from somewhere behind me. The next thing I knew, Quentin had Dexter off his feet and slammed against the wall of lockers. He leaned in close to him, the hand around Dexter’s neck tightening.
“You in the mood to get fucked up again, Delaney?” Quentin snarled. Chad and the other guy backed away, and now everyone else began drawing closer to the scene. Miguel caught up, coming to a halt, out of breath. He looked me over. I nodded to let him know I was okay. Physically, anyway.
Dexter couldn’t speak, and his feet dangled in the air while he tried to peel Quentin’s fingers off him. Quentin vibrated with anger, the veins in his neck bulging.
“Let him go, Quentin.” Miguel’s tone was urgent. I followed his gaze to see Mr. Ballbuster striding down the hall, bullhorn in hand. The other students dispersed, along with Dexter’s friends.
Quentin dropped Dexter. He doubled over, holding his neck and coughing.
“See what I mean,” Quentin said as the principal barreled down on us. “Always showing up to fuck up the fun.”
“Are w-we in trouble?” I panicked.
“I’m the star quarterback,” Quentin said. “I run this fucking school.”
“What’s the problem here, boys?” Mr. Ballbuster asked. He had a nasally voice, and his shirt was too tight for his rounded stomach.
“Dickhead-Delaney here was picking on my friend.” Quentin nodded toward me. Miguel pressed into my side, and I exhaled at the comfort.
“Language, Mr. McAllen,” Ballbuster warned. “Is that true, Mr. Delaney?” Dexter hadn’t recovered from being choked yet.
“What’s your name, son?” he asked me.
“Elliott,” I blurted when Miguel subtly nudged me.
“Was Mr. Delaney harassing you, Elliott?”
“Y-yes, Mr. Ballbuster.” My response made Miguel groan.
The principal’s lips thinned, and he looked between Miguel, Quentin, and Dexter with clear annoyance. Turned out his real name was Mr. Hayward.
“Mr. Delaney, get changed and head home. Your parents will be receiving a call from me this evening.” He pointed to us next. “You three, in my office. Now.”
We followed him to his office, taking the seats in front of his desk. He tossed his glasses onto the stack of papers in front of him before closinghis eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel reached over to grab my hand.
“Exactly how much of a headache are you going to be this year, Mr. McAllen?”
Miguel’s mother had both their last names changed to McAllen after marrying Quentin’s father. But we all knew he was talking to Quentin.
“I’m not the one who starts shit—”
“Language, Mr. McAllen!”
Miguel squeezed my hand like he knew this was all too much for me. Mr. Hayward was too angry with Quentin to notice.
