Something was off with her. I took her chin, forcing her to look at me. The scabbed-over split on her bottom lip was impossible to ignore. That son of a bitch had smacked her for staying over at my house. Evidently, the quarterback had a death wish. One I’d be happy to grant. My temper spiked, the pressure building like flammable vapors in a tank. The tardy bell rang, followed by the bang of lockers and a flurry of students rushing to class. For once, I didn’t want a scene, so I dragged her into an alcove by the water fountain. “Your little piece of shit boyfriend...” I imagined him hitting
...more
