“You’re the one fooling yourself,” he cried, wriggling free from my grip. I pushed him against the locker. Blaze looked down. He knew I didn’t need to touch him to loom over him and make him feel the same loss that he made me feel.
“Why don’t you look me in the eyes?” I prodded.
“I don’t want to look at you.” He turned to the side, avoiding my gaze. “Much less at that damn piercing.”
“Look at me,” I insisted.
After our encounter at Poppy’s house, I felt like something was broken. Blaze had never walked away from me.
“What do you want from me? Grow a pair and say it,” he whispered, not looking up.
“I want you to shut the fuck up and listen to me,” I snarled against his cheek.
But rhythmic steps stopped me.
“Blaze?” Oh shit.
I heard the sound of his dad’s voice.
“Principal Manor,” I said, distancing myself from Blaze. I noticed my voice become submissive and my cheeks flush.
“What’s going on here?”
“Nothing. But why are you at school? Shouldn’t you still be on sick leave?” Blaze stuttered.
The principal looked down at his son. “They called me to sign a couple of things. Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Yeah, right.”
Blaze turned around and disappeared.
“Jackson, stay here. I have to talk to you.”
A chill went down my spine, and I began to shake.
The principal gave me a fast once-over, his eyes lingering on my shoes. He stared at them.
“Shoes, Jackson,” he added menacingly.
He could yell all he wanted. He didn’t scare me. But he kept staring at my feet. I looked where he was looking and saw my Jordans.
They were lime-green limited edition from 2018.
They were so rare and flashy that . . . oh no. He recognized them.
“I won’t press charges under one condition. I want to know why you did it.”
“I—”
“It was Hunter’s idea, wasn’t it?”
It was official: I was knee-deep in shit.
But instead of getting mad, he talked to me paternally. He put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “You’re better than this, Jackson. You know that a mistake like this would prevent you from getting into college?”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mr. Manor didn’t care what I had to say. He knew exactly what he was talking about.
