“Thank you everyone,” Principal Wire says, gesturing for the eager student next to him to move the garish golden arrow on a display board. It marks cash milestones, reaching fifty thousand at its summit. He gestures proudly as the arrow hits the peak. “As you’ll see, we’ve reached our target!”
“Does that mean we can go home?” I whisper to Mia as everyone around us erupts in loud applause.
She snorts behind her hand, while Mom kicks me in the shin. Considering I’ve stayed quiet for two hours, I think I’ve earned the right to be a little snarky.
“Before we end the auction, there is one last item to announce,” Principal Wire says, dashing my hopes of an early finish.
He signals to his right, and a student wheels out a table from behind the curtain. A box covered in a black fabric sits on top of it.
“An anonymous donor has given a very special present to recognize one of Stonybridge’s most talented sporting stars,”Principal Wire announces. “I don’t need to tell anyone here that Nate Holt is a skilled football player, but what you may not know is that he’s an avid baseball glove collector. Sadly, Nate’s fantastic collection was destroyed.”
From what I heard, his gloves were yearly birthday gifts from his father, bought as investments. They’ll have been insured.
“Please come up on the stage, Nate,” Principal Wire requests.
Nate makes his way to the front like a celebrity, waving and posing for photographs as he goes. Watching him makes me question what I ever saw in him. Sure, he’s handsome, but the longer I look, the more I see who he really is. Just another entitled rich guy. He doesn’t understand true pain. How can he?
When he finally reaches the stage, Principal Wire shakes his hand like he’s an award recipient.
Nate takes the microphone. “Before I accept this generous gift,” Nate starts, dripping with confident arrogance. How have I mistaken his smug smirk for a smile before? “I want to say a huge thanks to you all. We wouldn’t have been able to get through this difficult time without the support of Pasturesville.”
Nate’s front-row fan club swoons, like he’s addressing them directly. Clapping ensues, which Nate waves off modestly, but I see through his act. He’s lapping up the attention.
“Now, for the item…” Principal Wire declares.
I wait with bated breath, but not for the same reason as everyone else. Every surprise presents another opportunity for my tormentors to make an impact, and this is no different. A public humiliation would excite their sick minds.
He pulls back the black curtain, and everyone gasps to see a glove signed by a famous player I haven’t heard of.
“We hope this will help you restart your new collection,” Principal Wire says.
“Try it on!” Oliver shouts.
Nate stands next to the box, pausing and turning to the audience. “Should I?” Everyone applauds, including my mother. “Okay, okay!” Nate raises his hands, laughing. “I’ll try it.”
Principal Wire removes the Perspex box for Nate to remove the glove. Grinning, he slips it on. For a second, nothing happens, then his face falls. He turns a stark white, and his mouth curls into pure agony.
“Is everything okay?” Principal Wire asks nervously.
“My hand!” Nate staggers, clutching his wrist. “My hand!”
He screams and tears the glove off. His eyes water in pain as blood drips down his arm, soaking through his shirt.
“My hand, my hand!” he wails.
It’s hard to make out what I’m seeing among the mess of bloody flesh. His fingers resemble chunks of raw meat. The offending glove falls to the floor, making a girl faint, while Nate fights to stay standing.
“Ambulance!” Mrs. Holt screeches, scampering onto the stage to be at his side. “We need an ambulance. Someone call an ambulance!”
Blood continues to spout from Nate’s hand like a fountain. The unfolding scene is straight from a horror movie.
Principal Wire scoops up the glove and peers inside. His jaw clenches, and I read his lips as he utters, “Razor blades.”
Mom covers her mouth in horror, while a doctor in the crowd races to Nate’s aid. He’s lucky to attend an elite private school, which guarantees some of the best surgeons in the country are already on-site.
“Oh my fucking God,” Mia gasps.
No one chastises her for cursing, only sharing her horror as the school nurse sprints past with a dusty first aid kit. She joins the doctor, who tries to stem Nate’s bleeding with his designer jacket. Those stains will be impossible to remove.
