Page 37 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

We take the stairs two at a time. But my attention is partially on her and the people rushing past us to the cafeteria. My eyes linger on some of the males’ faces, trying to figure out who owns the letter I carry around with me like a prized souvenir.

Who is Lett?

“Very strange, Theresa.” Maria drags me toward the cafeteria, and I smother a laugh. She asked earlier if I would eat there, but I ignored her. “Clingy kind of strange. Are you on your period?”

My cheeks pink at her direct question, and I use my hair to cover my face. She can be too blunt for poor old me. “No. . .” She lifts a brow. “Well, yes. But it has nothing to do with my mood.”

It ends today, and my mood is fine. I am among the lucky few who only bleed for three days. The cafeteria door swings open, and we jump to the side as a student barrels out. I shake my head.

Teenagers.

“Tell that to yourself all you want, baby girl,” she says. “But I know strange when I see one.”

We ignore the murmurs around us once we are inside. The setup is the same. Cheerleaders and jocks are in their spot—the center of attention, but their table looks out of place without Ben. I don’t comment on that, and neither does Maria. We haven’t discussed revenge. I wonder what it must feel like to sit at that table with the boy the whole school admires, no spiteful remarks, only genuine friendship. It must be nice to be Olivia. I grab a tray from the counter. Maria does the same, and we move behind the line to gossip. She didn’t bring lunch today. It’s a rare occurrence but not strange.

“Tessa. Look,” Maria whispers, a malicious note in her voice. I groan without looking at the student she subtly points at, making sure to keep my gaze on the tiled floor. “Smash or pass?”

“None.”

“Killjoy,” she replies.

The line eases without any more remarks from her, and soon, it’s our turn. I place an order of fries with ketchup on the side. Maria eyes my plate and purses her lips without saying a word.

We are on our way to find a table when I notice a male student by a dark corner. It’s easy to miss him because he’s slumped over his bench like he wants to be anywhere but here. I drag Maria in his direction and plop on the spot beside him. What if he’s Lett? I promised to be nicer to everyone.

“See?” Maria whispers, taking her seat opposite us. I ignore her and smile at him. “Strange.”

The boy barely spares us a look. Instead, he shrinks into himself and stabs his fries. Maria gives me a look that screams:what is your plan?I also have no idea the plan.

This guy doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy that was molested by his stepsister. But what do molested kids look like? His appearance screams evil and gothic. Dark eyeliner. Black lipstick. Jet black hair. Spiky hair and boots. With these boots, he should be able to fight off his stepsister.

“Hey,” I say. Small talks shouldn’t be this hard. I point to his tray. “Tastes nice, huh?”

He lifts his gaze, and I wither when cold eyes meet mine. I will pick Ben’s glare over his. He stands, I attempt to apologize, but he walks out on us with both hands clenching his tray. Maria giggles when he stops in front of the trash can and empties his meal into it. He turns once to send me his middle finger. Her laughter irritates me to the point I pinch her, and she pouts. My eyes trail the lanky figure of the idiot speeding to the door. Well, fuck him too. I was only trying to be nice.

“What was all that about?”

I shrug. I wish I knew.

He is a bigger ass than Ben. At least Ben had a mini reason to hate me. I stop my thoughts from wandering in that direction. There I go again, thinking about him. I don’t like Ben. I’ll never like him. Where is he, anyway? He hasn’t been in class for a week and two days. His clear blue eyes pop into my mind, followed by that naughty, arrogant smirk. He is an ass with a cute little brother, that’s all.

“Where’s Ben?” I ask out loud.

Maria drops her tray beside mine. “I heard he was suspended. What are you thinking?”

“Not thinking anything.”

She stares pointedly at me. I shrug. “Anyway, I think we should damage his tires.”

“What?” It’s her turn to shrug. I don’t like the idea of causing him any discomfort because it will also affect Asher. Bad tires mean he will be late to pick up Asher. I push my tray from her reach before she finishes my ketchup. “Don’t you think the suspension is enough punishment already?”

Maria wastes no time in saying, “No. We will slash his tires when he resumes.”

I open my mouth to refuse, but she cuts me this look only a Spanish mother can pull off. “Okay.”

The rest of lunch goes by without any conversation, and a strange quietness descends over our table. I don’t even stop her from stealing my fries or soda. Maria walks me to the front of my empty class. We stand at the door for some minutes, unaccustomed to the awkward silence.

“Hug?” she says, her voice a little too hopeful as she stretches out her arms. I hug her, and her arms wrap around me. We stay that way for about six seconds before she pulls away to kiss my cheek. “I hope it’s just your period because you are acting weird-ish. Be fine, okay? Love you.”

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