Clearly, I’ve exhausted his store of patience.
“Your future is in your hands right now. We’re suspending you for two weeks, effective immediately. Unless you want to turn that into an expulsion—”
“I’m sorry, what?” I shove my chair back, jumping to my feet like I’m trying to escape a burning building. “You’re—?”
“What did I just say, Marin?” Mr. DioGuardi’s cheeks redden. “Lucky for you, Mr. Beckett has agreed not to press criminal charges.”
I sit back down, not so much because he’s telling me to as because I think my legs might actually give out underneath me.
“Um,” I say again, wrapping my hands around the armrests in a pathetic attempt to ground myself. I can taste this morning’s orange juice rising dangerously at the back of my throat. “Okay.”
“He and I are both willing to acknowledge the emotional stress you’ve been under,” Mr. DioGuardi continues, “and we understand the possibility that you weren’t entirely yourself.”
Not myself, I think dully, staring down at my hands like they’re somehow completely separate from my body.
“The suspension is effective immediately,” Mr. DioGuardi says again. “I’ll be calling your parents to inform them of the situation, and Ms. Lynch can escort you to your locker to get your things.”
“I don’t need an escort,” I tell him, forcing myself to my feet again. Nothing about this conversation seems real. Suspended. Me. He might as well be telling me he’s sending me off to the moon.
“Marin—”
“I said I don’t need one!” I snap, and it comes out a lot more like a wail than I mean for it to. Right away I hold my hands up in surrender, like a bank teller being held hostage. “I’m going, okay? I’m going.”
Just for a moment Mr. DioGuardi looks at me with something like sympathy. “All right,” he says quietly. “Go get your things, then.”
The bell rings just as I stumble dazedly out of the admin suite, classroom doors slamming open like they’re spring-loaded and the entire student body spilling out into the hallway. I almost crash right into Jacob, his immaculate Top-Siders gleaming white under the fluorescents and an against-dress-code Sox hat cocked on his head, not that anybody’s going to say anything to him about it.
“Hey, Marin,” he says, smiling a twisty, unpleasant smile. Then he nods at the admin office. “You making some alone time with DioGuardi now too?”
It’s like something in me just breaks then, like everything I’ve been holding in with varying degrees of success in the last few months comes exploding out all at once. Before I even know I’m going to do it I’m lunging at him, shoving him as hard as I can in the chest and shoulders, the heels of my hands connecting with a satisfying thud. It’s ridiculous—I’m emphatically not a fighter, Gracie and I never even pulled each other’s hair as little kids—but Jacob’s not expecting it; I shove him again, even harder this time, knocking him loudly into the bank of lockers behind him.
“What the fuck, Marin?” he yells, arms coming up to try and defend himself. “You’re fucking insane!”
“And you’re an asshole!” I can hear assorted gasps and shouts all around us, my vision blurred at the corners of my eyes. “And I’ve had it with letting you all just get away with saying shit like that!”
It’s a spectacle, the exact kind of thing I’ve tried to avoid since I got back to school after break—hell, like I’ve tried to avoid my whole entire life. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am insane, hysterical, attention-hungry, desperate. Maybe I’m everything everyone thinks I am, but I can’t bring myself to care. This whole little rebellion was a stupid idea to begin with.
And all at once I’ve got nothing left to lose.
I’m about to go after him again when Gray swoops in out of nowhere, dropping his crutches to the ground and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Let me go!” I order, trying to pry his arms off me. I don’t want another guy touching me right now. I don’t want anyone holding me back.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Gray says, hauling me away from the crowd with a few choice words for the scrum of onlookers. He’s twice my size, but I’m thrashing; I reach back and catch him on the side of his jaw before he finally deposits me in the hallway that leads to the library and nurse’s office, quiet and dark in comparison to the rest of school.
“Let me go,” I insist, though he’s already done it, hobbling sideways on his walking cast, pain visible in the twist of his handsome features. The bell rings for the start of class, though it sounds strangely far away.
Gray shakes his head. “What was that?” he asks, bewildered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I snap, making to brush past him; he reaches for my arm, and I hiss. “Stop. Can you stop? I am so sick of this.”
God, I have to get out of here. As soon as DioGuardi hears about this, I know I’m going to be facing an expulsion; I want to run as far as I can and never come back.
“Marin,” Gray says, reaching for my hand again; I yank myself away, and he holds his palms out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just—”
“I said stop!” I tell him, my voice echoing down the hallway. “Stop trying to fix everything, or protect me, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. Just leave me alone for once, okay?”
“Okay,” Gray says, hands still up like I’m a wild animal—like maybe I’m dangerous, and need to be contained. “I won’t touch you again, I promise. I’m sorry. But can you please just talk to me for a sec?”
I shake my head. I can’t take his affable good-guy act right now—because let’s be real, that’s probably what it is, right?
“You’re not helping,” I inform him. “Nothing you’ve done this whole time has helped, actually, so—” I break off. I don’t know why I’m saying this. Part of me doesn’t know what I’m saying, but I can’t stop.
“Look,” I try again. “This has been fun. But I just don’t think it’s a good idea to keep—”
“To keep what?” Gray frowns. “What’s not a good idea?”
“You and me.”
“Seriously?” He looks baffled. “I don’t—why? Because Jacob is a dick?”
I gape at him. “That’s what you think this is about?”
“No, no,” he amends quickly. “Of course not, but—”
“No.” I cut him off. I’m just so done. We’re so done. “It’s over.”
“I—”
“No,” I say again—and there’s something that feels satisfying about it, finally, even if there’s a voice in my head that’s already wondering if this is really the bridge I want to burn. His instructions from weeks ago come tumbling back to me then, and before I can stop myself I tell him: “With respect, Gray? Fuck off.”
For a second Gray just stares at me, eyes flickering with recognition, and my heart breaks a little bit. Then his face falls.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is so quiet. “I can do that.”