I sank low in my seat as John climbed into the car.
His hair was dark and curly with several gray strands, his large glasses sat halfway down his hooked nose, and he was thin. Everything about him screamed fragile ego. Of course, he thought it was okay to mistreat kids. To him, it was how he got power to compensate for being so pathetically weak-looking.
He began searching his glove compartment for something — cigarettes. A pang of jealousy rushed through me as I watched him place one between his lips.
Just as he went to light it, I cleared my throat.
With a yell, he dropped the cigarette and lighter and whipped around with wide eyes, realizing he wasn’t alone when he spotted me in his back seat.
I smiled, flicking the lollipop stick to the corner of my mouth. “Hi.”
He swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses. “Who—”
“You’re Chloe Howard’s teacher, right? John Wilson?”
“What happened to her is not my problem.” His voice shook as he spoke, no matter how hard he tried to keep it steady.
“Did I mention there was a problem?”
He stammered, but nothing came out.
“Unless you’re talkin’ about her shattered leg. The one you made her sit with instead of calling for help.”
“Here. Is this what you want?” He fumbled with his wallet and tossed it into my lap. “Take it. Please.”
I looked down at where it sat, lifted a brow, and then looked back at him.
“Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered.
“You called her a difficult student. Said she deserved what happened to her. That it should teach her a lesson.” I picked up the wallet and leaned forward, slinging my arms over the backs of the front seats and thumping him on the chest with the wallet in hand as I smiled again. “Now let us teach you a lesson.”
As predicted, Mr. Wilson chose flight over fight. I had never seen a man jump out of a car so fast, but he did and made a run for the stairwell door.
I climbed out of the car as Seb revved his engine. The bike’s headlight shone directly on Mr. Wilson’s back as he sprinted in the opposite direction. But the bike was faster.
The matte black Yamaha flew by me first, and then the teacher before Seb swerved and skidded to a halt in front of John, cutting off his initial escape route. When he turned to run the other way, the other way being me, the panic set in, and he backed himself against the back of a parked van.
Seb got off his bike and marched for the teacher.
“We don’t wanna hurt you…much,” I said as I joined Seb in cornering him. “But we do want somethin’ from you.”
“Please—” He went to drop to his knees, but I grabbed the collar of his suit jacket and pulled him up again. “I’ve already said you can take my money.”
Seb, with his helmet still on so he wasn’t recognized, sniggered. “That’s great, but it’s not for us.”
With his jacket still in my fist, I pinned him against the van. “You’re gonna pay for that little girl’s hospital bills. Every fuckin’ cent. And then you’re gonna tell the school what you did.”
John went to nod, but he hesitated. His wet eyes darted between Seb and me. “A-and if I don’t?”
My brows raised at his audacity before I looked at Seb. “You wanna do it?”
“Nah, go ahead.”
“Alright.”
I let go of John’s jacket and grabbed his wrist instead. Right as he realized what was happening, I took his pinkie finger and jerked it away from the rest of his digits. The sound of it snapping was quickly drowned out by his cry in pain before I pushed a hand over his mouth and stepped into his space.
“It’ll be the rest if you don’t do as you’re fuckin’ told. Got it?” I hissed darkly.
