Page 115 of You're so Bad

Danny’s done some research on this joker over the last few days and shared it with all of us—he’s the teacher of the year at his school, a deacon at his church, poster boy for doing the wrong things and getting patted on the back for it.

My adrenaline skyrockets, and buzzing fills my ears. “I know what you’ve been doing, you piece of shit. You come off as some local hero, but you beat those kids you’re supposed to be helping.” I ease up on his windpipe enough so he can answer for his crimes. He might holler for help, of course, but if he does, I’ll have time to run.

“Reese,” he says, trying to turn back to get a look at me. I’m wearing a mask, but I still hold him steady. I don’t want him looking at me. I don’t want to get a good look at his face right now either, because then I’ll want to punch it. “I’ve been worried, is he—”

“You stay away from him. If you touch one of your foster kids again, I’ll come back here, and we won’t have such a pleasant conversation. You feel me? I’m going to keep an eye on you. I’m gonna know it if you didn’t eat enough fiber and can’t shit right.”

“The boy lied to you,” he says, and it’s obvious from his tone that he’s trying to work this around to his advantage, even here in a headlock with his phone on the ground. “There’s a difference between discipline and—”

“There’s no reason for you to hit a kid, you piece of shit.” My fist itches to make close contact with his face, but I remember what Shauna and Burke told me. I have a lot to lose. “No fucking reason. You want someone smaller and weaker than you to live in terror of you?” I amp up the pressure on his neck. “Remember what it is to feel afraid.”

I loosen my grip, and he gasps for air.

I want to hit him once.

I want to break his nose.

I want to hear him cry out in pain.

My father probably felt that way when he busted into that room, looking for me.

And it’s that thought that makes me push him away instead.

He staggers from me and falls to the ground.

I back up. I’m about to peace out and run when he charges toward me like a bull.

“You don’t tell me how to run my house, you piece of shit,” he shouts.

I sidestep him, and he charges headfirst into a tree, the thump as loud as a drumbeat, then falls to the side in what has every appearance of a dead faint.

Well, shit.

Someone steps out of the trees, and I flinch, ready to take off, but it’s Shauna wearing her mask.

“What’d you do?” she whispers furiously.

“I didn’t do shit!” I swear in an undertone, lifting my hands. “I had him in a headlock, sure, but it was only so I could talk to him. Then he charged at me, and the tree did the dirty work.”

For a second, I’m sure she won’t believe me, then her shoulders start heaving up and down. It takes me a solid second to realize she’s laughing. “You think this is funny?”

“Yes,” she says through silent laughter. I almost laugh too, because it’s a ridiculous fucking story, but I’m too hung up on the fact that she believes me. “We need to get out of here.”

“Should we leave a note?” I whisper back.

“What would it say? Next time, we’ll get you with the maple?”

I bite back laughter, then pick up his phone. The screen is shattered. Good. Whoever was on the other line ended the call, but I type in YOU’VE BEEN WARNED and send it from him, to him. Then I wipe down the phone and set it on his chest. It’s moving up and down regularly.

From the look of him, he got a good knock to the noggin, but not in a place that will give him any permanent damage.

“Or should we take the phone and give it to Danny so he can mine it for info?” I ask, second-guessing myself.

“Let’s keep our crimes to a minimum,” she whispers.

We step off, and before we leave the woods and brush at the edge of the property, we pocket our masks. Then we make our way back to the car, which we parked a few blocks away, and Shauna drives us back toward the house as casual as you please.

Giving me a quick look, she asks, “How do you feel?”

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