With no thought behind it, my pencil trails along the blank lined paper. Lines weaving and connecting as I glance back and forth from Zack to my drawing.
Hot air hits my cheek. "Do you know what it is?" Zack asks, looking at my drawing.
Looking up at him, our eyes connect. I shake my head, no. His tired blue eyes burn so deeply into mine that I feel the heat in the pit of my stomach. Warming every part of my body.
"It's called a Dara Knot."
"What does it mean?" I ask him, still totally lost in his eyes.
His fingers wrap around my hand, bringing it closer to him. He flips his arm over so his tattoo is showing. Trailing the tip of my index finger along the black ink etched in his arm, he explains quietly as I watch. "Dara comes from the word doire, which means oak tree in Irish. Oak trees were sacred to the Celtics. The roots have many meanings," he traces my finger over the knots that are apparently meant to mimic roots, "but to me, they mean survival. Because what are we without it? Ya know?" He lifts his head and looks at me again. This time, something different festers inside of me. I find myself struggling to breathe, as if he's sucking all the oxygen out of the room. His touch suddenly feels so hot that I can barely stand it.
Unable to speak, I just nod my head, agreeing with him.
His voice drops a few octaves, taking care not to disrupt the other students. But, as far as I'm concerned, it's just us in this room. "Whatever it takes, we just have to survive. Even if it means being selfish."
His words couldn't be truer. Not to mention, exactly what I needed to hear today. Sometimes we do have to be selfish. Last night, part of me wanted to protect whoever broke into my house. Mostly because I thought I’d be protecting myself in the process. But now, I realize that they deserve to be punished. That person invaded my space, scared me, and if I’d had a real gun, I would have shot them. That’s something I’d have to live with for the rest of my life. These people are tormenting me and it’s time that it stops. Once we find out who it was from the bloody glass, I’m making sure justice is served. They need to face the consequences in the same way that I have to face mine.
9
Zack
I tried like hell not to look at her. An internal battle took place inside of me. Repeating continuously, don’t look, don’t fucking look. I saw her looking at my tattoo. Watched her drawing it out of the corner of my eye as I bit down on a smile. This girl gets under my skin. So deep that I can feel her ruffling shit up inside of me. Each second that I’m near her, I second guess everything I’m doing, everything I have planned. She comes off as this sweet girl with a hard shell, and oftentimes, I have to remind myself that she cracked my shell. She tore the top right off and left me with nothing.
I make excuses, search for a reason to hate her a little less. But, it all comes down to the cold hard truth that she is the reason my life is falling apart. My home, my family, my sanity. She’s breaking me while she’s putting herself back together. It’s not fair.
“Dude, are you gonna eat that or just poke your fork into it until lunch ends?” Brock asks while I continue to swirl the spaghetti on my fork—if that's what they call it. Some soggy noodles with a tomato sauce dribble on top.
Letting my fork drop onto the tray, I slouch back in my chair. “Nah, not hungry.” Looking from Brock to TJ, I ask the question weighing heavy on my mind. “Where’s Jonas?” He sits with us every day at lunch, and even though we had a little quarrel yesterday, it’s never kept him away before. He’s like this fucking fly who never goes away, no matter how many times you swat him. We’ve both learned to co-exist because we have the same circle, but his absence has me puzzled.
“No clue,” TJ responds with a mouthful of food.
My eyes skim the cafeteria. Only, I’m no longer looking for him. I spot Bree, the girl that Nadia has cozied up to, but there’s no sign of Nadia herself.
Pushing my chair back, I jump up. “I’ll catch you guys later,” I tell them before scooping up my tray and dropping it on the top of the trash can without even emptying it. Where the hell is she?
Just as I'm walking through the open doors to exit the cafeteria, something forces me to look over my shoulder.
There they are. At a table—alone. She's sitting with her legs under the table while he straddles a chair facing her. He leans forward, invading her space and he needs to back the hell up.
Stepping back in the room, I sandwich myself between the trash can and the door frame. My arms cross over my chest, prominent veins of anger threatening to break through the skin of my forearm.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
Rage courses through me as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she blushes. Why is she letting him touch her? Better yet, why is she enjoying it?
Just as I go to give them a warm greeting, he drops a hand on her leg. She glances down at it, puzzled and unsure if she wants it there. If she doesn't move it, I sure as fuck will.
When he doesn't budge and begins whispering something in her ear that woos her, I'm unstoppable. Heavy footsteps lead me through the small crowd that has now gathered around the trash can. Shoving someone out of the way, I make a beeline for the lusting duo.
An army couldn't stop me as I grab Jonas by the collar of his pretty boy polo button-up. My fingers clench the fabric as I lift him out of his seat. Pulling him close, I grit through my clenched teeth, "What game do you think you're playing?"
He lets out a sarcastic and airy laugh that fuels my fire. "Not yours." He smirks.
Something, or someone rather, grabs me from behind. A few people, as they try to pull me away, but I'm not ready to end this just yet. "You fuck things up for me and I will fucking shred you."
Heavy breaths roll out of his mouth carrying the scent of the Doritos he was just eating. "Not if I shred you first."
"Zack, stop it!" I hear Nadia holler as she also tries to pull me back. "What are you doing?"
Cocking my neck in her direction, my eyes zero in her. "What the hell are you doing?"
Her eyebrows dip in confusion. "Having lunch. What does it look like?"
She has no idea. She doesn't know me from Adam. Doesn't know this douchebag, Jonas, either. To her, I look like the fucking fool. Maybe I am.
Backing away slowly as I'm pulled backwards by Brock, I keep my eyes on her. Each step has my stomach twisting in tighter knots. I don't know why. I have no fucking idea why this girl is getting under my skin. She is, though. And it has to stop.
I have to stay away from her. If I don’t, my entire plan will go up in flames.
10
Nadia
My pencil taps the round table continuously as I wait impatiently for a late Zack.
I haven’t seen him since lunch yesterday. He stormed out of the cafeteria in a fit, and today, he was MIA while I ate with Bree and Jonas.
I'm not really sure what to think of the way he behaved yesterday. It's apparent that him and Jonas have some sort of vendetta against one another, because I can't imagine it had anything to do with me. I didn’t bring it up to Jonas. Didn’t really feel it was any of my business, but curiosity does have the best of me.