Page 20 of Bad Boy
“I said. . . Fuck. Off.” I step into his face, letting him know to stay away from me and my friend.
He sputters, clearly not knowing how to respond to my unexpected defense of Lincoln and probably not used to it. I roll my eyes. Pathetic. A bully with no backbone.
I turn away from the sheep, effectively dismissing them, and smile at Lincoln. “Chocolate milk?” I ask, nodding to the plastic bottle on his tray and slipping into the seat in front of him.
Brandon and his posse practically tuck tail and run to the other side of the cafeteria, where it looks like most of the popular kids are sitting at a cluster of tables. I make eye contact with a few of the girls sitting there and wink. They wave, then giggle and whisper to each other.
Sorry, ladies. I’m going after a boy this time.
“It’s good for your bones. I don’t want osteoporosis.”
My lip quirks at said boy’s answer. “Good point, Preppy.” I glance back at the lunch line I just got out of. It’s dwindled down now. “I’ll be right back. Guard my lunch.” He nods, taking another sip of his milk. . . with a straw.
I march to the large, glass-door refrigerators full of assorted bottled drinks. I reach in and grab myself a strawberry milk, quickly going through the checkout line again.
What?I don’t want osteoporosis, either.
I slide back into my seat across from Lincoln and break the seal on my bright pink beverage, taking a big gulp and nearly choking. “Okay, that is sweet as fuck. I think I’ll go with plain next time.”
Lincoln peeks at me from under his lashes and smiles softly, taking a small bite of his fancy-ass sandwich. I saw off a big chunk of meatloaf and shove it in my mouth to offset the sweetness of the strawberry milk.
“Excuse me. Hi, Lincoln. Um. . .”
A tall, lanky kid with light brown skin and curly black hair that’s faded on the sides stands awkwardly at the end of our table. I take a loud slurp of my disgustingly sweet beverage and spread my legs as much as these stupid fucking plaid slacks will allow. I lean back in my chair and wait to see what this new guy has to say. He better be nice. I’ve dealt with enough dicks for the day.
He licks his lips, regroups, and tries again. I continue to stare at him, amused. “Um, could I sit with you guys today?”
Before I can answer, Lincoln speaks up, putting the kid out of his misery. “Of course, Grady.”
He moves his messenger bag off the seat next to him. This Grady kid walks around, gracefully folding himself into the chair next to Lincoln, and sits there with perfect fucking posture to eat his lunch. I watch intently from the opposite side of the table, slouched in my seat. I have to remind myself we’re just friends. And this must be one of hisotherfriends.
“Hey, Grady. I’m Remi. Lincoln’s new best friend.”
Fuck, I just can’t help myself. Impulse control is not my strong suit.
“You a senior?” I add casually.
He looks at Lincoln nervously, then darts his gaze back to me. “It’s nice to meet you. And no, I’m a junior.”
I nod in acknowledgment. I’m too hungry to carry much of a conversation, so I eat the decently flavored chunk of meat instead.
“Were Brandon and his friends givin’ you crap, too?” Lincoln asks, and Grady shifts in his seat, looking agitated. He pushes his curls off his forehead, but they flop right back. His golden brown eyes meet Linc’s, then flash to mine for a brief second.
“Um, yeah. They tried to grab my violin case again. Same juvenile games as usual.”
“Where is it now?” He doesn’t have anything with him except a backpack, so if those fuckers took it, I’m ready to start some shit. If he’s Linc’s friend, he’s mine now, too.
“Locked up in the orchestra room.” He gives me a small fleeting smile. I think he realizes I was ready to hunt down whichever asshole took it. I don’t fuck around with bullies who think they’re bigger or stronger or better than others.
“Okay, good. Tell me if that prick tries to take it again.” I scoop a giant heap of garlic-mashed potatoes into my mouth. This shit is good. Much better than the half-burnt frozen pizza and greasy fries at my old public school.
“Where’s Sierra?”
Before Grady can respond, a pretty girl with a sleek dark ponytail walks over, and they must be related. A very skilled swoop of black eyeliner highlights her amber eyes, enhancing their cat-like appearance. Her full lips are painted a pale pink, and a soft shimmer highlights her sharp cheekbones. She wears her school uniform with a dignified grace, the skirt sitting just above her knees.
“Here,” she says softly, glancing over and smiling before sitting next to me.
“Twins?” I nod my head to both of them.
