“Lukas!” she whisper-hisses. “You can’t be in here!”
I stand outside the last stall, leaning my head down, forehead resting against the door. “I know,” I say, pausing for a second to straighten my thoughts. “But are you alright?”
She sniffles, and I can hear her roll out some toilet paper before she loudly blows her nose. “Fine, nothing like a little public humiliation before lunch time.”
I raise my hand to the door, wanting her to let me in, but I opt to rest my palm against the cool plastic. “McKenna said your mom is on her way?”
A weak “yeah” is the only response I get.
“Are you going home or is she bringing a change of clothes so you can stay?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you should stay.”
The lock on the door fidgets, and I take a step back as she cracks it open. My heart breaks when her tear-streaked face peeks out. This last weekend we went to the mall, and Magnolia bought some eye makeup kit that supposedly had the best colors for brown eyes. She was all dolled up this morning, shadows on her lids with a dark mascara. So pretty I couldn’t speak.
The shadow has disappeared altogether; the mascara now a mess of gray smudges under her eyes, some even up by her brows. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bloodshot, a clear indication she’s been sobbing for the last half hour.
But God, she’s still pretty.
Pretty is too simple of a word to describe Magnolia Banks. Even like this, in a state she would probably call her worst, she still takes my breath away.
My fingers itch to hold her, and maybe standing in the women’s restroom isn’t the best place to do this, but seeing how badly she’s hurting does something to my insides. I reach a hand up to smooth some of her hair out of her face, pushing it behindher shoulder. She tries to smile, but then her bottom lip wobbles, and I think,Fuck it.
Both of my arms reach out as I take a step closer, and I pull her to me. She immediately wraps her arms around my core and presses her face to my chest as her soft cries are muffled in the fabric of my sweatshirt.
I press my lips to the top of her head, gently enough that she probably doesn’t feel it. “Stay, please. Don’t go home.”
“Why do I have to stay?”
I reluctantly release my hold on her, and when her arms fall from my sides, I take a step back, and another, shoving my hands in my back pockets. “Because Billy needs to apologize to you.”
She furrows her brow at that, crossing her arms over her chest. “We both know that will never happen.”
I dart my tongue out to lick my bottom lip, an idea forming in my mind. “Wait here.”
I’m already at the bathroom door, pushing past McKenna when Magnolia gasps, calling out for me to stop.
I move as fast as I can down the hall without actually sprinting. There are only three classes for sophomores that are held this hour. The science class that Mags and I should be in right now, an AP Chemistry class that I know Billy is way too dumb for, so that leaves English with Mrs. P. I take the next left, and when I clear the corner, my gaze is locked on the rooms to the right. Third one down is one-twenty-one. English. I don’t bother knocking, don’t bother with pleasantries or some fake excuse as to why I need to see Billy in the hall. I whip open the door, taking two steps into the room and prop my hands on my hips. I scour the room, looking for the little coward.
“Mr. Hart, can I help you with something?”
I don’t bother looking toward Mrs. P. I can tell by the tone in her voice she’s ticked right off that I barged in here. Andconsidering she has card games with my mom every Thursday, I already know I’m going to be in deep shit. My eyes lock on the back row to one particular student who has his hoodie over his head, cowering low on his desk to hide behind the girl in front of him.
Typical bully. Always willing to pick on those he sees as weaker. Let’s see how he measures up to a man his own size.
I make my way down the row, and I’m just about to reach out for him, to rip him out of the chair by his shirt, when he stands abruptly.
The desk is pushed between us, and his eyes are frantic, chest heaving. “It was a joke, Hart. She needs to learn to take a fucking joke.”
Mrs. P shouts at the both of us, telling me to leave, but I push the desk to the side with both hands, letting the metal feet scrape across the worn linoleum. “I think you need to learn a fucking lesson.”
The students shuffle around us, Mrs. P still yelling the closer I get to Billy. He lunges at me and I raise my hands to block him. He shoves the desk back in my direction, and I lift a foot to stop it, shoving it back. “Quit the bullshit, Billy. You’re coming with me to apologize to Mags, and if you’re lucky and she’s accepting, we’ll leave it at that.”
“I’m not apologizing to that prissy bitch.”
My vision turns red, and I lunge for him. His arms come out to block me, but not before I curl my arm around his neck, bending him down in a forced headlock. He punches at my thighs, and my leg buckles.
