Page 36 of Quiet Rage
How could he?
My heart is in pieces at my feet by the time I remember I was trying to leave. I need to—people can see me; they’re laughing, pointing, chanting words likewhoreandslut. Forget trying to have a little dignity. Forget keeping my head held high. What matters now is survival, which means running blindly past them, sprinting for the double doors leading out to the quad.
And straight into another girl on her way out. She stumbles back, letting go of the door and almost falling on her ass. I would ignore her if it wasn’t for the hand she wraps around my wrist before I can get away. “Oh, my God,” she gasps, looking me up and down. “What happened to you?”
“What does it look like?” I snap, pulling my wrist free and taking off.
“Wait. Wait!” She jogs up next to me. “Let me help you. Seriously, let me help you get cleaned up.”
“It’s marker! Permanent marker!”
“We can still get it off you. Please, let me.” She grabs my backpack this time, tugging gently. “I have alcohol wipes in my car. That will help. We can at least clean your face up.”
I know this girl. I’ve seen her before. “You’re one of his friends,” I mutter, covering my forehead with one hand, keeping my headdown and my shoulders up high like that will do anything to protect me.
“Whose? Don’t worry about that now. Come on, let’s clean you up.” She’s gentle, kind, and I guess it’s been long enough since I’ve experienced any kindness that I don’t offer any more arguments. It’s easier to follow her to the parking lot, where we head for her car instead of mine. Before letting me in, she opens the trunk and pulls out a first aid kit.
She then opens the passenger door using her key fob, and I duck in quickly, releasing the breath I was holding once I’m safe inside. Now I can cover my face with both hands, weeping behind them, shaking.
How could they? How could he?
“Here. Let me.” The girl’s touch is gentle, first stroking my hair and brushing sweaty strands away from my skin before tearing open a packet and pulling out a wipe. “You just stay still, okay?”
I can’t even look at her once my hands drop to my lap. I’m too humiliated. Tears roll down my cheeks from behind closed lids while she cleans my forehead. “It’s coming off,” she murmurs, making me shudder in relief while another sob bursts out of me. “I’m sorry this happened. I know how it feels to be bullied.”
“Why? Why does she have to do these things? Why hasn’t somebody done something about her?”
“I’m guessing you mean Tiana,” she mutters. My head bobs once, and she sighs, louder than ever. “That girl is a disease.”
Thank God. Finally, for the first time, somebody gets it. There’s somebody at this school who wants more than to break me.
“My name is Emma, by the way,” she murmurs. “Kellen is good friends with the twins, Preston and Easton. I’m with both of them.”
It’s not easy to hide my surprise, but I try. She’s so casual about it.
“He wants me to drop out,” I whisper. She scowls, eyes narrow, but says nothing. What is there to say?
“Here. Look, see? It really helped.” She flips down the passenger visor. There’s a mirror attached to the back, and while my forehead is a little red now from all the rubbing, the marker is gone.
“Thank you so much,” I choke out before a fresh wave of emotion sweeps me up.
She doesn’t say anything. She only gets to work on one cheek, then the other. By the time she’s finished, I’ve pulled myself together enough to tackle my chest and arms. Slowly, but surely, the evidence of the attack is wiped away. The car smells like alcohol by the time we’re finished, but at least I’m not ashamed to be seen by anybody walking past. I’m not some obscene billboard advertising the sickness and rot in this school.
“Thank you.” Closing my eyes, I settle back in the seat, completely exhausted and still aching. They weren’t exactly gentle with me back there.
“Like I said. I understand. But I would hope any half-decent person would help you if they could.” She lets a few silent moments pass before asking, “Can I drive you home? It doesn’t seem like you’re in any shape to drive yourself.”
She’s not wrong. Still… “You don’t have to do that,” I murmur, opening my eyes, turning my head to offer a weak smile. “You’ve already gone out of your way.”
“It’s nothing. And honestly, you look like you’re ready to pass out. Can you Uber back later and pick up your car if you need to?” I nod, knowing she’s going to drive me whether I want her to or not. I think I do want her to, even if I don’t love the idea of leaving my car here. They’ll probably slash my tires or paint it a different color or something while I’m gone. Right now, I don’t have it in me to care. I just need to get home, far away from this vile place.
Along the way, she tells me a little bit about herself. Her leukemia, her grandmom, her boyfriends. She’s gentle and sweet, and I’ve been missing that. By the time we pull up to the house, I’m feeling calmer, even if I’m still bruised and battered inside.
“Please, let me give you my number.” She is persistent, that’s for sure, almost worried about me. I give her my number, and she calls my phone so I can have hers. “Call me anytime,” she urges.
All I can do is thank her, almost choked with gratitude, before hurrying up to the house.
Mom must be taking a nap, since the living room is empty, though she could be at the store with Dad. Thank God, I don’t have to explain anything to them. I can rush upstairs, fling myself on the bed, and sob until there are no tears left.
