“I will.”
He looks over at me. “Doing what?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Just skip college and take over the family business. Mow lawns for a living.” He says it in a condescending tone with a smirk on his face as his eyes return to his phone.
“I’d rather mow lawns than cheat people out of their money like you’ll be doing. At least it’ll be easy for you since you’re used to cheating to get what you want.”
He grabs my arm and whispers, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Everything okay back here?” Ms. Higgins asks, stopping at our table.
Briggs smiles at her as he lets me go. “Everything’s fine. We were just discussing the lab.”
She nods and continues to the next table.
Briggs goes up to get our supplies.
“I thought you weren’t helping,” I say when he gets back.
He sets the chemicals in front of me and sits down. “Have fun.”
“I’ll do it better without you anyway.”
He hides his phone under the table and texts someone. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“For a job. It’s not—” He shakes his head. “Just forget it.”
I turn to him. “You’re not working for your dad? Is that what you mean?”
“I said forget it,” he snaps. He sets his phone down and rubs his face. “Fuck.” He jerks his hand from his face, and I notice it’s where he has the bruise. It looks even worse today, more swollen and a dark blue-gray.
“How’d you fall to get a bruise under your eye?” I ask.
He glares at me. “Do you ever stop talking?”
I turn back to the assignment, deciding to just ignore him. He’s being an ass, something that’ll never change. I don’t know why I thought it would.
As we’re finishing up the lab, Drew, the guy at the table next to us who plays rugby with Briggs, goes up to him. “You think I could get out of practice today?”
“For what?”
“My knee’s bothering me and I don’t want to make it worse.”
Briggs looks at him like he’s crazy for even asking. “You want to skip practice because your knee hurts? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He shrugs. “I could ask Coach.”
Briggs stands up, towering over the guy. “Coach listens tome, the team captain, and I don’t let people miss practice for some fucking lame excuse. You play through the pain.”
Drew nods. “Yeah, okay. Just thought I’d ask.” He points to Briggs’ face. “Someone punch you?”
“The ball hit me at practice last week.”
“Looks pretty bad.”
