“I’m going inside,” I say, pulling out my phone and glancing down at the time. I still have ten minutes before the exams start, but I don’t feel like being outside any longer. The weed I just smoked is starting to hit me, and I don’t want to listen to Blake rambling about pussy for the rest of the afternoon.
“You’re going to take the exam?” Blake asks, kicking a rock off the track.
“Yep,” I reply, doing a quick turnaround and walking away.
“Let me know when you’re done,” Blake calls out to me. “We can hit up the skate park.”
I wave a hand at him, but I don’t answer. I’ll probably take him up on his offer after school. There isn’t much to do in this town besides drink 40s in the park and skateboard until the sun goes down. I took up skateboarding to pass the time, but I rather enjoy it now. I need to work on my kick flip anyway.
Chapter Three
Amber
“Good lord, what in heaven’s name happened to you?” Nurse Latisha belts out the second I step into her office.
I shrug. “Someone here doesn’t like me.”
“It looks like you got into a fight, is what it looks like,” she says, tearing a pair of blue gloves from a box on her desk and bouncing up to me as she puts them on.
“I wasn’t the one fighting,” I reply as she pulls the gloves onto her hands.
“So, you’re telling me that someone beat up on you and you didn’t defend yourself?” she asks, lifting a gloved hand to my face to examine the cut on my lip.
“Am I supposed to?” I ask.
“Girl, sit down so I can get a better look at you,” she says, yanking a chair out from the front of her desk.
I sit on the old wooden chair, feeling the hardness beneath the butt from the thin pillow that’s barely attached to it. I wince as Nurse Latisha touches my lip. It stings like a motherfucker.
“Who did this to you?” she asks, turning away to shuffle through clear plastic drawers full of cheap medical supplies.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“You don’t?” she asks, spinning around with a packet of single-use antiseptic.
“Not really. I mean,” I cross my arms below my bosom, “I think it might have been some cheerleaders.”
“They’re always up to no good. Someone ought to tell their parents,” she says, ripping open the packet and smearing the brown liquid onto her index finger.
“Is that going to stain?” I ask, recoiling as she tries to put it on my lips.
“You have better things to worry about than stains, honey,” she replies, shaking her head full of tight black curls. “You need to get yourself some friends and move in groups. That’s what I seen them kids do around here.”
“I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself,” I reply, but I know she’s just trying to help.
“You might be eighteen, honey, but you’re still a sprout to me,” she replies, moving the antiseptic to my cheek.
I chuckle through the pain. “I feel like a loser, honestly.”
“Hey, don’t talk that way about yourself,” she snaps. “I done seen way too many bright young women like you talk trash about themselves. Do you see me doing that crap?”
I shake my head, feeling sheepish.
“That’s because I respect myself. If anyone attacks you in those hallways again, I suggest you put those tiny fists of yours to good use and fight back.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble though,” I say, a bit confused as to why a member of school staff would suggest fighting as a solution.
Nurse Latisha scoffs at me. “Honey, I don’t know where you came from, but we do things a little differently around here. This ain’t a prep school. Students around here come from some pretty broken places. You need to watch your back and don’t take crap from anyone. You got that?”
I straighten up and nod as she leans back to admire her work on my face. “I have to go,” I say, “We have exams in a few minutes.”
“Alright,” she says with a sigh, standing up. “Don’t let them get to you, okay? There’s a lot more to life after high school. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a warm smile. I feel better after talking with her. I guess things here really aren’t how they were at my previous school. The last person who punched someone outside of school got expelled immediately. It seems like here, killing someone in school wouldn’t get a second look from the principal.
I walk out of the nurse’s office into the feebly lit hallway. The pristine blue and white halls of my past have been replaced with faded yellow and gray ones, decorated with trash, gum, and cigarette butts. It’s a depressing sight and an apt reflection of life after my parents’ divorce. I just hope things don’t get any worse.
As I turn down the hallway to the classrooms where my exam is taking place, I feel the heavy impact of a dense body knocking me back. I stumble a few steps back, then fall straight onto my ass again. Am I about to be beaten to a pulp again? I don’t even think I would survive another beating in such quick succession.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” a deep voice says from above me.
I clamber up to my feet, moving backwards defensively until my back is against the locker behind me. I look up at the guy I ran into, a muscular senior with tattoos running down both arms. Why does everyone at this school have tattoos?
“Sorry,” I say, impulsively apologizing when he was the one who knocked me over.
“You’re the new girl, Amber, right?” he asks, stepping forward. He leans toward me, his thick eyebrows moving low across his hazel eyes. “Fuck, what happened to your face?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply, covering my swollen lips with my forearm.
“Damn, well, I’m sorry I knocked you over. It was an accident. My name is Flint, by the way,” he says, extending his hand out to me.
I look down at it. How can a high schooler have such large hands? He could probably wrap the whole thing around my neck and pop my head off without much effort. I wonder if I should even shake hands with him, or if this is some sort of trap.
Flint blinks at me expectantly. I guess I shouldn’t make any more enemies.
I loosen my shoulders and reach my hand out to him, allowing him to shake it. His grip is firm but gentle, and his hand is warm. I smell the faint scent of weed mixed with a spicy cologne coming off him, but I can’t say it’s unpleasant. There’s something intriguing about it, even.
“I gotta go,” he says, pointing a thumb back toward the classrooms. “See you.”
I don’t reply to him, instead waiting for him to leave before I move away from the locker. I watch him swagger away from me, his shoulders swaying with cocky ease as he walks into the same classroom that I’m supposed to be in.
Great.
I don’t know what to make of Flint, but I can say that he’s got the face of a model and body of a boxer. He’s big enough to where I doubt anyone would want to mess with him. Maybe he would be a good friend to have, but I don’t especially want to get involved with a bad boy. I’ve been warned about his kind. They take advantage of women like me, and I’m vulnerable enough already. I need to protect myself.