Page 20 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

I guess this is it. He will send me to detention. I’ve never been in detention.

“Sir, I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough, Theresa. I’m quite disappointed in you.”Good work, sir. Reprimand me in front of the whole class and give Ben a bigger reason to laugh at me because that’s how I’ll know not to repeat this. “If you have issues with Mr. Carter, keep it out of my class. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal.”

“Mr. Carter, on your feet,” my teacher says. Ben scowls at me. Fuck him too. “Miss Mower, apologize to him.”

A low whistle leaves someone’s lip. Mr. Sam turns to the skinny guy with an afro sitting in the front row. “Another of that from you, Tyler, and you will be sitting nicely in the principal’s office.”

Most of the class laughs, but their laughter dies down at the glare Mr. Sam fixes them. A smile appears on Ben’s lips. He angles his head and lifts his brow when my mouth opens and closes without a word to him. I don’t want to apologize to him or anyone else in this class. They owe me an apology, starting with him. Abigail sneers at me. I will die if I have to apologize to her.

“Theresa Mower.” At the sound of Mr. Sam’s voice, my body turns in his direction. Ben folds his arms on his chest, and I want nothing more than to strangle him with his own hands. “Apologize to him right now, or you will have to explain to the principal why you think it okay to use words like dumb and bitch on your fellow student because he asked for an explanation. Unbelievable from you, Miss Mower.”

Mr. Sam bursts into a rant about how he never talks down on students, no matter how many times we fail to understand his lecture. He won’t take that from us, including this young lady, AKA me.

Excuse me, sir. It is your job to explain to us, not mine.I am a student, and he is an ass. Ben isn’t the innocent guy Mr. Sam or the clueless lot in this class think he is. His middle name is Trouble.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

Ben curves a hand around his ear. “I didn’t get that,” he says.

My pendant peeks from his shirt sleeve, and a blinding wave of anger threatens to drown me. I swallow my apology. He’s using my necklace as a bracelet. My brother gifted that to me. God. This is the idiot who deserves an apology. He notices me staring at his hand, his eyes fleet to the pendant, and he smirks.

“What did you say to me, Miss Mower?” Ben says.

Mr. Sam clears his throat, and I say, “Sorry, Mr. Carter. I will never use such words with you.”

I rush to my seat before Mr. Sam permits me and bury my face in my textbook. I don’t care anymore. He can send me to the principal’s office, and I will gladly go there. Maybe not. I hate the principal. Everyone does. He and Ms. Eva will make a great couple since they are both bitter and unmarried. I wait for Mr. Sam to call me out. He doesn’t, and I release an audible sigh of relief.

The class resumes. Ben looks me over a few times, and I glare daggers at him. He is so stupid.

“Benjamin, what was your confusion?”

I take deep, measured breaths like Coach would have instructed to keep the tears trying to escape at bay. Sadly, I am a part of the small population who sometimes tear up in anger.

Why can’t I punch things and people instead?

The sound beside me pulls me back to my sad reality. I shut my textbook. I have had enough Calculus for today. In fact, I have had enough Broadway Heights for today.

“Benjamin?” Mr. Sam calls.

I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up. “It’s fine,” he replies. “I get it now, sir.”

Of course, he does. I shove my textbook into my bag. Once the bell rings, I am the first to leave.

Fourteen

“You should have called me,”Maria says for the fifth or one-hundredth time. I stopped counting the second time she said that. She rubs her hands together, angry eyes boring into my forehead.

“What would you have done?” I ask.

Whenever Olivia is involved, I try to handle it on my own. Maria is my best friend. She always has my back, but I want her to remain on the cheerleading team. I drag my sleeve over my knuckles, shivering slightly in response to the gust of cold air that sweeps into the field. Most of the chairs are still wet from yesterday’s rain, but the atmosphere is cooler than it will be in the cafeteria.

I am never going in there again.

“I don’t know,” Maria replies with a shrug, and her top rides up to reveal her pierced belly button. “Just call me the next time you are in trouble. Olivia needs to have a taste of her own medicine. It’s long overdue.”

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