“Thank you,Phee.”
I grip my knee to stop its nervous bounce.
Am I crazy or was that a dig?
“This confession has weighed pretty heavily on me, so I’m grateful for this opportunity.”
My leg begins jiggling again, shoulders pulling inwards.
“To give you some background, I’ve been moved around a lot of high schools because of bullying in the past few years. Four times to be exact.”
Sympathetic noises erupt from the group, but my jaw clenches. He doesn’t sound like a kid my age. Far too self-assured for his own good.
It’s just his voice. Stop being so judgemental.
“And this week, I started at yet another new school, and I…” He clears his throat. “This is hard for me to say, but I’m just so sick of moving all the time when the people responsible never face repercussions. It’s just sounfair, you know?”
“It is,” Philip says, always eager to affirm. “And that’s an indictment of the system. Moving once is bad enough, but four times…? It’s unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. Unbelievable.
“Anyway…”
The new boy’s voice is suddenly thick with tears and my stomach shrinks. Here I am thinking bitchy thoughts, and he’s crying.
“It’s no excuse, but I’d just had enough, and when everyone started picking on this girl, right in front of me…” He exhales in a huff, sniffing in a new breath. “Instead of sticking up for her, I joined in. Laughing while the other pupils called her a freak.”
Shock hits like a bullet in my brain, scrambling thoughts, annihilating my senses.
It’s the word that pumps my insecurities up to ten feet tall, casually dropped in the middle of my safe space like a fucking atom bomb.
Philip shifts in his seat. “It’s hard when we fall short, but—”
“I broke her glasses.”
My breath hitches. The air conditioning kicks into life, making me jump, its hum the loudest noise in the room.
It’s a coincidence. Students break their glasses every day.
“I stood on them, deliberately, just to make another girl happy. Just so I could fit in.”
That’s no coincidence.
Different voice, different scent, but it’s Damien.
I jump to my feet. “Excuse me.” Fleeing the room, tapping chair backs as my guide. Tripping over a curled carpet tile near the door, then I’m outside.
My fingertips trail along the stippled wall until I’m safely around the corner, then I slap the rough surface in frustration. “Coward.”
Except it’s more that I don’t make good decisions when I’m confused, and I don’t have the faintest idea why he’s here, infiltrating my group. Making everyone swoon with his crocodile tears.
My arms shake like I just downed five double-shot espressos, and the tremor grows worse as the hall doors open, and his confident footsteps follow me along the path, stopping at the corner.
“Was that entertaining for you, Damien? Don’t they have support groups for privileged arseholes?”
Nothing but silence. It lasts so long I pluck at my throat. “Damien?”
Finally, he chuckles. “What gave me away?” he asks, voice back to its normal register.
