“Hey, look at the freaks.”
I blink out of the daze and follow their line of sight. My brother walks with three other boys dressed similarly to him. They’re wearing all black, and chains hang from their big pants that flare at the ankles and drag on the floor. Two of the boys wear a hoodie, while the others wear a band T-shirt.
Kyle barks, and Mickey joins him, forgetting about me. They get louder with each bark, and other students in the hallway join with them until the barking drowns out all other sound.
I step backward, my back brushing against my open locker door. Guilt clings to me like a ball of goo that I can’t shake off. I don’t understand why these bullies bark at my brother and his friends, but I feel awful and responsible for it. Why am I just standing here and not saying anything? Why aren’t I gaining their attention so that they’ll focus on me instead?
Jaxon glares at Mickey and Kyle, then turns his gaze to me, pinning me where I stand. Before I avert my gaze, I spot the simmering anger in his dark eyes, then the flash of betrayal before he locks it away.
“Fuck you!” one of Jaxon’s friends hollers. They flip us off as they walk past us.
I can’t take my eyes off of Jaxon, even after he walks past me and down the hallway, where more students bark at them. He thinks I’ve befriended these two jerks. He must think I’m a part of bullying him and his friends when that is the furthest from the truth.
I spin toward my locker and slam the door shut, then storm away. My first class is on the other end of the school, and the more distance I put between my brother and me, the more gutted and lonelier I become. The two jerks howl in laughter and bark some more. This time, I don’t think they directed it at Jaxon or his friends. This time, it’s toward me.
My first day at this new school was awful. This town is full of preps and rich kids, and I finally understand why Jaxon sneered at me, calling me a prep. They bullied him all day.
I never wanted to be the new target at this school, but a sudden protective feeling over my brother built inside me until it brimmed and threatened to spill over. So I made more ruckus and dragged their attention to me, and I gladly took their pranks and insults.
When I get home, I head straight to my bedroom. I sit at my desk, leg swinging and pencil in my hand as I scowl at my homework. My eyes are heavy with sleep, and my mind is fuzzy like static, but I need to finish this workbook.
School is awful, and if I could drop out, Iwould. Everyone there is a jerk, including the teachers. Like my last school, the teachers always chose me to answer a question I didn’t know the answer to. Then they told me to speak up because no one could hear me. Even after I said something a second time, the stupid teacher held a hand beside her ear, gesturing for me to speak louder. Everyone in class laughed along with her, making me the butt of the joke.
To make matters worse, word spread because of those stupid boys, and now everyone calls me rocks or airhead. At first, I thought they meant Airheads, like the candy, but after they laughed harder at my confusion, I finally understood what they meant.
I glare at my homework and want to toss it in the trash. I’m not good at any of this. Math is too hard to understand, and no matter how much I try to remember what Miss Edwards said in class, I can’t make sense out of it. I would ask Mom to help me, but she and Dad left for a date an hour ago.
Jaxon’s music thumps through the wall separating us. I raise my gaze, staring at the cream wall like I can see through it and watch Jaxon as he listens to his rock songs. I debate if I should go to him for help since I have no one else to ask.
Jaxon is older than me—and likely smarter, too—so he’d know how to do math. Plus, I want to make sure he’s okay, no matter how much he hates my guts and insults me like those kids at school.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and peel off a flaky piece of skin. Jaxon won’t like it if I go into his room, and I don’t want to risk him burning something of mine if I piss him off.
Ialmostput my homework away and call it quits, but the fear of flunking my grade hangs over my head like a dark cloud. With my luck, I won’t drop out of school but will be held back to suffer an extra year of being bullied.
Taking a deep breath, I get out of my seat and leave myroom. Jaxon’s door is shut, and I spot a sign taped to the wood, warning me to Stay Out. I pause and stare at the sign before I gently grab the knob, then hesitate as I think better about barging into his bedroom.
I let go of the knob, and I rap my knuckles against the wood instead, praying he hears it. Music still plays. A guitar riff wails through his boombox’s speakers, louder than it was before I knocked. I steel my spine and knock again, this time louder. I wince as the door rattles on the hinges, then drop my hand to my side.
The door swings open, and I stumble back a few steps as Jaxon takes up the small space. His expression screams,How dare you?
I suddenly forget how to speak and why I’m standing outside his bedroom. My cheeks warm and my ears tingle as heat spreads from my face. I struggle to find my words and not sound stupid when I figure out why I’m out here.
Jaxon huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “What?” he snaps.
I fumble with my trembling hands and avert my gaze. Now that I’m not looking at him, I remember why I’m here. “I need help with my homework.”
“Get your mom for that.” He tries to swing the door shut, but I catch it before it clicks into place. Jaxon’s lip pulls back in a snarl. “You sure you want to do that,sis?”
“She’s not home, and I need help. Please!” Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I hate that I cry when I get nervous and embarrassed.
Jaxon’s dark eyebrows lower into a sharp slash over his mean eyes. His lips thin, and I mentally prepare myself for him to go off on me. “Not my problem. Maybe you shouldn’t be so stupid. Pay attention in your classes instead of fucking around with the preppy douchebags.”
“You can’t curse!”
I recoil as he lunges at me. My eyes snap shut, and I turn my head, giving him my cheek as I mentally prepare for the sharp sting of a strike. When nothing happens, I peek at him and find him standing several feet away from me in his bedroom. My lips part as horror mingles with his softer expression, like he can’t believe I flinched.
I don’t understand his reaction, but I don’t linger on that thought.
