Page 2 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

Maria breaks her stare-off with the witch and her minions and flicks me an annoyed look. I point at the empty hallway. Sometimes, my calmness irritates her, but when you are the quiet type who hates attention, you do everything to get it off you. Besides, the bell will go off soon. We can’t afford to be late because of them. They are not worth our time, and Olivia’s father can always soothe the principal with a donation.

Olivia blocks our path. Her minions flank her on each side, forming a barrier to keep us trapped. I place a hand on my waist and draw a line on the tiles with my foot. It’s too early for this. A sly smile takes over Olivia’s lips. She can tell I’m getting agitated. She wants me to lose it. Witch. Her gaze darts between Maria and me. I release another sigh. Sighing seems to be all I’ve been doing since they walked in.

“Mother Theresa,” Olivia says while batting her fake lashes. “Aren’t you mowing for us today?”

I roll my eyes. Dumbass. I can start by plucking out her lashes. That joke stopped being funny long ago. Yes, my last name is Mower, but her joke is lame. It’s why only her minions laugh.

Seconds pass as we stare at each other, waiting for the first person to break. My jaw ticks, but I keep still. Olivia arcs a perfect blond brow.Drama queen, not today. I have a fight to prepare for this weekend. I can pretend my opponent is Olivia while kicking the shit out of him.

With that in mind, I push past them, yelping when someone drags me back by my hair. My hair isn’t as long or thick as Maria’s or Olivia’s, but I take good care of it, and it hurts like hell when someone pulls it carelessly. I make that point known with a slap across the cheek of the culprit.

Olivia gasps. Maria claps a hand over her mouth.

What? She wanted me to be more social. This is social.

A hush descends in the hallway. This morning was supposed to go smoothly, but Olivia had to be her usual bitchy self. I wince at the glare she levels me. With her platform heels, she towers over almost everyone. Her hand slowly touches her cheek, which is fast turning red. Maria snaps out of her trance and stands beside me in solidarity. We must leave before Olivia takes revenge by kicking her out of the cheerleading team. As the captain, she decides who stays on the team.

An apology hangs on the tip of my lips, but I swallow it. Olivia deserved that slap. Not only her, all five of them, but I will keep my hands to myself for the rest of today and stay out of her way. Her minions are still dazed. Their identical blond hairstyles and outfits make it harder to tell them apart, but they all blink like they cannot believe I slapped their queen. Neither can I.

Charlotte glares as I bend to pick up my bag. I wink. Hopefully, this will teach them not to mess with me anymore. Tugging on the sleeve of a shocked Maria, I start for my first class of the day.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Shock colors Maria’s voice. I snort as we turn to the left and see a row of doors. Her classroom is before mine. “God, you slapped Olivia. You slapped the queen.”

Maria’s hand trembles. I should also be freaking out, but I’m still reveling in my audacity.

“Who made her the queen?” I reply in an accent I must have picked up from a movie. “She’s no queen of mine.”

We stop in front of Maria’s class. The door is locked. She delays going in by hugging me.

“You coming for lunch?” I ask. Her mom packs the most delicious lunch for her, so she doesn’t have to eat cafeteria food like the rest of us. She nods in response, and I pout. “See ya.”

As soon as Maria disappears, I tighten my hold on my backpack and look around. I might have been within my rights to slap the Queen of Broadway Heights, but Maria called Olivia Beckham the Queen for a reason. She will try to get revenge, or someone else will to curry favors from her.

I’m screwed. No, I’m not. I will be prepared. I must. This fighter isn’t going down easy.

But how prepared can I be in a school where everyone listens to her? Ah, fuck. I know things never go according to plan, but it’s falling to pieces right at the beginning. The plan was simple: Be the best friend I’ve always been to Maria, try to make sure she forgets about our dumb bucket list, and live out the rest of the school year without any drama. But look at me now.

The whole place is silent as I resume walking. My heart beats so fast I have to take deep breaths. I make the short journey to my class without any mishaps. The voice of the calculus teacher is audible from outside. I work up a quick lie in case I need one and push the door open.

Mr. Sam is too focused on the algebraic equation on the board to notice me. I tiptoe to my seat at the back. Only now, there’s one problem. Someone is in my seat. And that someone is Benjamin.

Blue-eyed Benjamin Carter. The hottest boy in my school is in my seat.

A lock of black hair falls casually over his forehead and his toned bicep ripples when he sweeps a hand into his scalp. I blush to my roots, newly stunned by his beauty to move. Mr. Sam clears his throat to grab my attention. I force a smile to my lips and slide into the chair beside Ben. He doesn’t acknowledge me. Of course, he won’t. I am not in his league. He only acknowledges girls like Maria, Olivia, and her minions, not a girl so tall and skinny she can pass for a boy.

I shouldn’t be bothered Ben is ignoring me because I don’t need the attention, but I am.

Our classroom is sectioned into rows with a reasonable gap between each desk. I always take the seat closest to the window so I can have a distraction when the class gets boring, as it is bound to sometimes. Mr. Sam is a good teacher, but I’m an easily distracted student. I catch Ben doodling on his notepad. What’s he doing in my class? Since when do jocks take advanced courses?

Mr. Sam drones on and on until boredom sets in. The hot guy on my right continues sketching in his notepad, which annoys me for some unknown reason. My brother, Hayden, was once the hottest boy in school, but he was nice to everyone.

I kick Ben’s chair. He stops drawing. “You are in my seat.”

Ben barely spares me a look. I didn’t expect him to, but it stings a little—maybe more than a little. Curiosity takes over me when he pulls out his phone. I strain my neck to glimpse the video playing on his screen, but he twists his body so I see nothing.

“Benjamin,” I say.

Turning to me, his eyes lower to my foot pressed to his chair. I freeze. He smirks. “Hey.”

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