“Who the fuck are you?” Dad demands.
“Professor Bastian Rooke.” His voice is calm, controlled. He offers a leather-gloved hand, which my father ignores. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, Mr. Lee.”
“Gee, ya think?”
“To reiterate, Miss Lee received a scholarship. That means you don’t owe us anything,” Bastian explains with the charm of a snake oil salesman. “And you never will. Your daughter scored a full ride.”
Dad’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Her? She can’t even fucking cook.”
Kai turns on Bastian, his face flushed with anger. “I’ve got this.”
Bastian ignores him, addressing the people surrounding us, mostly students, but some parents and faculty members too. “None of this concerns you.”
When only a handful of the crowd moves away, he claps his hands. “Fuck around and find out, folks.”
The threat in his voice is unmistakable. Students scatter like he pointed a rifle at them. The older people in the crowd should have taken offense, and probably some did, but they’re right behind the rest.
In seconds, we’re suddenly at the edge of the crowd.
When Bastian looks back at Bobby, my dad actually flinches a little.
“Tell you what, Mr. Lee. You seem like a reasonable man.”
And he says it with a straight fucking face and everything.
My disgust for Bastian and what he did to me is still there, still filling me with rage and shame, but I’d do anything to get out of this situation…even if that means allowing him to take charge.
“Why don’t I address your concerns over lunch?” Bastian suggests, as if they’re just two men hashing out some paperwork. “Unless you’ve already eaten?”
Dad grimaces. “Don’t want your fucking handouts, cocksucker. I came here for her.” He lunges forward, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. His too-long nails dig into my skin, breaking the surface. “We gotta talk, princess.”
“Okay, okay,” I whisper, rummaging in my tote bag to find my phone. “Let me give you my new number, then you can call me?—”
As soon as my phone is out of the bag, my dad swipes it out of my hand and hurls it onto the ground. Between Dad’s fury and the hard paving, the phone doesn’t stand a chance. It shatters, glass and fragments of plastic scattering.
RIP, you cheap piece of shit.
I’m still staring down at the carnage when my dad gives my wrist a violent twist.
“Look at me when I’m talkin’ t’you!”
The pain yanks a cry from my throat, and then everything happens at once.
Kai grabs my father’s arm, wrenching his fingers off me. Bastian seizes his other arm. Together, they drag him toward one of the paths leading to the parking lot.
Away from the crowds.
Away from me.
“Let go of me, you fuckers!” Dad yells, his voice echoing across the quad as he thrashes with them.
I stand frozen as they haul my screaming father away.
People are staring again, some with phones out, no doubt recording. My cheeks burn with shame as I crouch to scoop up what’s left of my phone, but the rest of me feels numb, disconnected.
“Think you’re safe here, you fucking cunt?” Dad calls out, his voice carrying clearly over the distance. Not directed at Kai, or Bastian, butme.
“I know what you did! I know what you fucking did!”
