The next morning, I pack up and head out as soon as I wake up. Luck is on my side again, and I slip through the unlocked door to the teachers’ entrance. This time, though, I’m going to be smarter. Instead of using the girls’ locker room, I head into the boys’.
I’m in the clear—clean and refreshed—and walking out of the boys’ locker room when Mr. Gibson steps into my view.
“I thought we had an understanding, Miss Mitchell?”
I practically throw myself back into the door at his voice. “Jesus, are you—what are you, stalking me?”
His shoulders tense, but he hides the displeasure of my accusation by crossing his arms over his chest. “I told you, no students in the locker rooms before school hours. I’m going to have to give you another week’s worth of detention.”
My jaw drops, and I click my tongue to the roof of my mouth in dismay. “You can’t do that.”
He takes a menacing step toward me. “Watch me. We can work together, or we can be on opposite sides. I do suggest you give in to me, Cat. I’m only here to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“But you will. You just need to let me in.” His irritation dissipates. A faint smile flickers across his face, and he takes a slow step toward me. “We would make a great team, you and I. You just have to stop fighting me.”
His words disturb me, but it’s what’s unspoken that sends a wave of shivers down my back. My eyes drop from his, and I stare at his shoes as I respond. “Whatever you say, Mr. Gibson. Detention. Got it. Are we done now?”
I can’t stop focusing on his intense breathing. It takes him a bit before he removes himself from my personal space. “For now. And I expect you to be on time to class.” He turns on his heel and storms off down the hall.
The next day…
I hate a lot of things.
But nothing beats how much I hate this class. The tension in the air is so thick, I’m choking on it. Or maybe it’s just my anxious mind creating these scenarios in my head.
One thing is for certain, the hostility with Mr. Gibson has gone too far. I’ve spent the past few days convincing myself his actions are in my head. But it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore his unwarranted advances. The way he looks at me as if he wants to eat me alive. It’s unnerving, but I don’t know how to stop it.
I also need to scratch the asshole from my mind. I’m clearly desperate for attention. Anyone would have to be insane to be attracted to him. But my body likes to remind me every time he’s near just how insane I am when it begins to buzz with excitement. Those deep-set eyes that haunt my dreams. His voice that seeps into my skin and takes hold of me. Just the way he breathes creates a flutter inside me. It’s official. I am certifiable. I need to scratch the asshole off my list. Go away. Bad idea.
I humph and slouch in my chair. A piece of paper lands on my desk. I look around to see who put it there, but no one seems to be paying attention. I pull the paper under my desk and open it.
Does your red bra match your panties? Or are you not wearing any?
Crimson spreads across my cheeks. I slam the piece of paper ink-side down and look around again. No one seems to notice or care. Then I feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck. “Are you going to answer me?”
Why am I not shocked it came from him? I want to turn around and slap him, but I fight the urge. The last thing I need right now is another lecture from Mr. Gibson.
I lean back and slightly turn my head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, asshole?”
A dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Maybe I would. Maybe I’d like to oh so slowly peel the material off your little body and help you release some of that pent-up bitch you’ve got going on.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “I will never let you touch me.”
“More lies, Stray?”
I hate him. I hate the way he makes me feel. I cross my legs to lessen the tingling that has started between them and fight the urge to turn and slap him.
He knows as well as I do that he’s gotten to me—and I despise him for it. Finally, I give in and face him. “What, can't stand the fact that when I finger fuck myself, you're the last person that would get me off? How every other guy in this school can make me come, and what a shame it is it’ll never be you.”
His smile disappears, a deep frown taking over as anger bleeds from his crinkled eyes. “You’re a fucking bitch, Stray.”
“And you’re a fucking asshole who will never know what color my panties are.” I twist around to the front and spend the remainder of class trying to get my breathing under control.
“Hey, Cat! Wait up!”
I squeeze my eyes closed at the sound of Melissa’s high-pitched voice.
“Hey, I didn’t see you in lunch today.”
“Yeah, I skipped. I had something to do at the library.” A lie. I spent my lunch hour hiding in the bathroom because that was the only way I wouldn’t have to pass Physics.
“No problem. I wanted to invite you to a party Friday night. I know it’s your birthday and thought it’d be fun.”
I stall in my step. “How did you know it was my birthday?”
“We did use to be friends, you know. It is your birthday, right?”
It’s strange to have somebody remember something about me. “Yeah, it is.”
“Perfect! Don’t say no, okay? It’ll be a great time. There’s an abandoned barn down route forty-seven. We build fires, and someone always gets their older brother or sister to buy alcohol. A ton of people always show up. It’ll be fun. Promise.”
The last thing I need to do is drink. It was always my go-to to get my parents’ attention—or a boy’s attention. Acting out was one thing. Adding booze to the mix never ended up good for me.
“I don’t know. That’s not really my thing anymore.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t have to drink. It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”
I’ve been alone my whole life.
The argument I had with my mom this morning pop into my mind.
“I’m sick of this shit you keep pulling for attention. I want you home right after school, and you will be here for dinner.”
“Why does it even matter?”
“To me, it doesn’t, but it does to William. You’ve avoided meeting his son, and it’s rude. I expect this out of you, but he shouldn’t. Neither of them should.”
“They aren’t my family—”
“You’re headed in the direction of being no one’s family if you keep this up. Straight home.”
The words to tell her I can’t are almost out of my mouth. You’re headed in the direction of being no one’s family if you keep this up. “Yeah, I’m in.”
Melissa’s face lights up, and she jumps up and down. “Awesome! Great! I’ll pick you up.”
“Yeah, actually, I have detention, so can you just pick me up here after that?”
“Totes! See you then.”
It’s almost off my tongue to ask her if I can crash at her place for a few days, knowing I’ll probably be out of a house once I blow off this dinner tonight. But fuck her. Fuck her husband. Fuck her stupid dweeby stepson.