Corbin looks almost unrecognizable as he weakly attempts to fight back and protect himself. Several teens try to pull Dimitri away, but it’s of no use. Dimitri is hellbent on beating the shit out of my boyfriend.
“S-s-s-stop it!” I yell, running to them. “Dimitri, d-don’t!”
He continues hitting Corbin, his fists making sickening sounds against flesh and bone. And even though I know it’s dangerous to get between them, I know I have to do something. So, I reach out, seizingone of Dimitri’s fists and yanking it towards me in an attempt to stop all of this. But then everything flips as he suddenly hauls me forward and down to my knees with almost inhuman strength. I quickly grasp Dimitri’s angry face, which is streaked in Corbin’s blood, forcing him to look at me. His cloudy, blue eyes finally settle onto mine, and I can almost see the fog lift from them as he realizes I’m actually here with him.
“Don’t d-do this. P-p-please,” I whisper to him, my breaths panicked.
Dimitri’s muscular chest heaves and sweat dots his brow. He slowly stands and wraps his hands around my arms, gripping them gently but firmly as he pulls me up with him. His gaze blazes into mine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the principal suddenly grabs him from behind and hauls him away from me before pushing him up against a row of lockers.
“My office. Now!” Mr. Larson spits out angrily at Dimitri. And then he turns to me and says, “And you too, Miss Cipriano. I have a feeling this had something to do with you.”
Dimitri stalks off as the principal goes to check on Corbin. “There’s an ambulance on the way. Everyone, get to class!” he shouts. “A month’s suspension for anyone who lingers in the hallway!”
I’m torn between staying behind to see if Corbin is okay and listening to the principal’s order. But I don’t even have a moment to decide before Mr. Larson turns with a raised finger pointing at me and asks, “Are you having trouble hearing today, Miss Cipriano?” Then he adds with a stern voice, “Move! Now!”
Feeling defeated, I reluctantly turn and make my way to his office. Dimitri is already seated in the small waiting room, which is comprised of three metal chairs and a lamp. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his bloody fists curl and uncurl in his lap. And when I enter the room, he looks up, his dark hair falling in front of his blue eyes, which lock on to mine.
I take the seat farthest away from him, not wanting to be next tohim right now…and maybe not ever. This was so much worse than seeing him in the underground fights. He looked like he wanted to kill Corbin, not just hurt him like previous opponents I’ve seen him pinned against.
The silence is almost deafening in the small room. The only sounds are Dimitri’s heavy, rapid breaths until they begin to slow as he eventually starts to calm down.
His knuckles are bleeding, and every now and then a drop of blood falls to the pristine, beige-colored carpet below his chair. I already know Mr. Larson is going to have a conniption when he sees that. He’s very particular about this school and especially about the office area.
“I owe you an apology,privighetoare mica,” Dimitri mutters, breaking through my thoughts.
“Just one?” I scoff. “S-s-so, you’re s-sorry for almost killing my b-boyfriend?” I ask.
“No, I’m not sorry for that at all. I’m sorry for whatever outcome happens here.”
I grumble under my breath. Of course he’s not sorry for hurting Corbin. He’s has had it out for him ever since we started dating. I don’t know why it even matters to Dimitri. It’s not like he’s been a total angel. I mean, I can’t even go one day in school without hearing rumors about him and numerous girls. If he can’t keep it in his pants, why should I?
“Well, I don’t accept your apology,” I tell him honestly.
“That’s fair,” he says before slinking back in his chair like we’re just having a normal chat on a totally ordinary day.
I glare at him but am thankful when he doesn’t look in my direction. Sighing, I sit back in my chair and pull my legs up to my chest, curling my hands around my knees and resting my forehead on them, desperately trying to make myself as small as possible until I hopefully just disappear.
“So, you and Corbin,” Dimitri starts, and I groan inwardly. “You two fucked last night afteryour date?” he asks.
“Is that why you h-h-hit him?” I question.
“Maybe,” he drawls out like he has a million other reasons besides that. “So…did you?”
I hesitate. I consider my options carefully. I don’t know why Dimitri would be concerned about whether we did or didn’t do it considering he’s dated and probably screwed every girl that goes to our school. The only thing I can think of is he’s wanting me to be undamaged goods when the time comes for our wedding. It’s always about the stupid contract, and I’m tired of it.
I slowly raise my head. His blue eyes look worried, mournful even, and it makes what I say next feel even worse. “Yes, we d-did,” I lie.
I can see a myriad of emotions on Dimitri’s face. He looks surprised, angry and then hurt. Just as I’m about to open my mouth and confess the actual truth and take back the lie, the principal enters the room, throwing open the door and startling me. His eyes immediately zero in on the red stain in the carpet under Dimitri’s bleeding knuckles, and his frown deepens. “Your parents are here,” he tells me. And then he turns to Dimitri, pointing at him as he says, “And the police are here for you.”
I stare at Dimitri, but he doesn’t even show any signs of being worried. In fact, he looks…smug. He slowly stands and walks out of the room, giving me one last long, hardened look before disappearing through the doorway.
“Let’s go, Miss Cipriano,” Mr. Larson says, gesturing for me to leave as well.
I stand and follow him outside. My eyes search the parking lot where I catch a glimpse of a handcuffed Dimitri being pushed into the back of a police car. On the other side of the lot near the school’s side entrance is an ambulance with two EMTs loading Corbin on a stretcher into the back of it.
Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I really want to go see if Corbin is okay. But before I can take one step in that direction, I hear someone clearing their throat. One of the drivers my dad hason call most days opens the back door of a familiar sedan, patiently waiting for me.
Sighing, I walk forward and climb inside. I’m shocked to see that both my father and stepmother are seated inside on the opposite bench seat.
