Page 147 of Crew
Except get in trouble.
I had to go. I knew it, but I couldn't make myself get up. My legs literally wouldn't work.
Feeling Cross' gaze on me, I rested my hands on my seat. My palms were flat, my fingers spread out. "I'm good. Thanks."
She dropped the note onto her desk. She seemed tired and distracted, her hair frazzled around her, but she looked at me curiously. "Excuse me?"
"I'm aware this looks ridiculous to you, but I haven't done anything wrong. If I go there, I'll just get in trouble. So, I'm not going to the office."
The tension I could feel in my shoulders filled the room. Everyone fell silent and waited.
Here I went again. Starting trouble, but I swear this wasn't intentional. I just couldn't move around the boulder in my stomach. And what I'd said was true--if I went, I'd be walking into trouble. I was never called down there for good things. Always bad. Always trouble.
Hell, maybe I should at least cause a little trouble. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I was walking to my slaughter.
The teacher looked at Cross. "Are you going to back her up if I send her to detention?"
There was no hesitation. His chin rose. "You know I will."
She rolled her eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. "This is ridiculous. This whole crew system is stupid. She!" She pointed right at me, her words directed at Cross. "Is not going to go anywhere in life. You know that, right? She assaulted a member of this administration with a deadly weapon, and she's still here. She should be in prison, or at least expelled from this place." There was a wildness to her words. "Bren Monroe! Get out of my classroom."
At least now I felt like I'd earned it, and I was aware of how stupid that was.
She waved her hand in the air. "I don't care who your brother is or what lawyer he hired. If you lay one hand on me, I'll make sure you go to prison. You hear that?" She stabbed her finger against the desk.
I winced from the force, but she didn't flinch.
The room was so silent. Someone's phone buzzed, but no one moved to get it. I stood, grabbing my books. A second later, Cross' chair scraped as he stood too.
The teacher's hands flew in the air. "Are you kidding me? Cross, you have so much potential."
He didn't reply. He just looked at me.
Everyone watched us leave.
"You can't follow her to the grave or to prison," the teacher called. "You won't be able to share a cell, and I don't think you'll care about a coffin."
Her words struck deep.
It felt like my own knife had plunged into me. I didn't know it was going in until it was there, and the pain took my breath away.
I didn't move for a second, not until I felt Cross behind me. His hand touched the small of my back, and I jerked forward.
I debated where to go--to the office, to find out what trouble I was in, or back out the door with another "cut day" under my belt. It was my second goddamn day back, and I already wanted to run.
Cross stepped close, but his hand fell away. I knew students inside the class could see us, and I knew I looked weak. I couldn't help myself.
I felt beat down.
In that moment, they won.
"You might not even be in trouble."
I rolled my eyes. "When am I not in trouble?"
He grinned, and I felt my toes curl.
"When you haven't done anything wrong."
