“Is it hot in here?” Laurel chuckles. “Did someone give the baby-killing skank a match?”
Laughter echoes around the room, and Dylan keeps his back to us. Fucking coward.
This is the worst humiliation I’ve ever experienced. Worse than the auditorium. It’s not Laurel’s taunting that’s the most degrading part, however. She’s only doing what she always does. It’s the fact that Dylan’s letting her get away with it. The adult in the room is making it crystal clear that I’m free game in his class.
He’s not going to lift a finger to defend me.
Tears sting my eyes, but I fight to keep them from falling. If this is what this semester is going to be like—having to let these people harass me because Aldridge will expel me the moment I fight back—I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can make it until the end. Not when I can’t escape this shit.
“Hey, Porter! Why the fuck is my tuition payment going to someone who doesn’t do his goddamn job?”
The class goes completely silent. I turn, mouth ajar, and gawk at Liam, who’s tapping his pen on the edge of his desk and glaring pure venom at Dylan. Laurel’s eyes are wide with shock, and Gabe is shaking his red head with an amused smirk.
Saint’s features are stone cold, and he’s watching Liam through tight eyes.
I peek toward Dylan, who’s gone completely stiff. After a long pause where I can barely breathe, he gradually turns to face us for the first time since class started.
His eyes lock on Liam, and he speaks in a steely voice.
“Excuse me?”
8
Liam leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest.
“I said, why the fuck is my tuition money paying the salary of a teacher who’s not doing his job? You’re just going to let Laurel run your class like this? Are you her bitch?”
Dylan’s face turns beet red with rage. The tension is so thick in the room, you could slice through it with a knife. Everyone is watching this exchange in stunned silence, and I almost don’t realize that no one is looking at me because I’m just as enthralled as the rest of the class.
What is Dylan going to do?
Several seconds float by, then he releases a deep breath.
“Miss Vanderpick, report to the headmaster’s office immediately. There is zero tolerance for bullying in this school.” His voice is strained, and I can hear the anger quivering beneath the surface.
I almost roll my eyes at his blatant hypocrisy. If Liam hadn’t called him out, Dylan would’ve let Laurel continue on her tirade against me.
She appears appalled that she’s about to face any consequences for her actions. “But, Mr. Porter, I…”
“Now, Miss Vanderpick.” His tone is harsh. His patience gone. Laurel nearly jumps from her seat, and stomps toward the door, her navy blazer pulling tight around her hunched shoulders. Her cheeks are a noticeable hot pink, and I feel a savage satisfaction at the sight of her embarrassment.
There are soft murmurs among the class, and I begin to relax, thinking it’s over, but then Dylan suddenly barks, “You too, Mr. Halloway.”
Liam raises an eyebrow, appearing unimpressed by our teacher’s tone.
“What did I do?” he asks in a lazy drawl.
Dylan’s teeth clench. “You disrupted this class and disrespected a teacher.”
“That I’m paying for.” He cocks his head and strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that does make you our bitch when I think about it that way.”
The class laughs. My mouth tumbles open. And Dylan seems like he’s seconds from having a seizure.
“The headmaster’s office. Now!”
Liam doesn’t move for several moments, and I begin to wonder if he’ll just ignore Dylan’s order. Finally, though, he unfolds his tall frame from his chair, tugs at his blazer sleeves and grumbles under his breath, “Small-dicked prick.”
“What was that?” Dylan snaps.
Liam smirks and shakes his head. “Nothing, Mr. Porter. I’ll be on my way now.”
As Liam moves through the tables, he glances my way and winks. My lips part as a shocked little breath escapes me. He did this for me. To defend me. I can see it in his dark gaze before his turns his eyes toward the door.
I watch him go, speechless. Then, for some reason I can’t fully understand, I risk a peek over my shoulder at Saint. He’s looking right at me, his gaze intense and frosty, so I stare back. Because, like always, I simply can’t glance away from him. He’s done nothing to help me, and everything to ruin me, but my eyes won’t move away.
We stay like that for several seconds, just staring at each other, before I finally gather up enough strength to break the connection.
“Miss Ellis? Could you stay behind, please?”
My footsteps faltering, I squint toward Dylan. He’s wearing a brittle smile, and my gut tells me to run far, far away from him. I’m curious as to what he could want, however, and I wonder if he’ll tell me why he came to work here. That’s the only reason I stay as my classmates filter out of the room.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I notice Saint lingering in the doorway, but Gabe and a feminine voice in the hallway—Rosalind, I’m guessing—claim his attention, so he grinds his teeth and storms off.
When everyone else is gone and we’re completely alone, Dylan levels me with an unfiltered glare. I don’t shrivel beneath it since I’m sure that’s what he wants. I raise my chin and square my shoulders.
“Tell me about the night James died,” he asks, without warning. “Who started that fire?”
My lungs spasm.
“You saw the police report,” I answer, hedging. “Meth lab blew up. Happens all the time.”
He shakes his head and stalks closer. “Don’t feed me that bullshit. I know it was intentional. Your mom’s a degenerate crackhead, but she’s a meticulous degenerate crackhead. She knew DEA was coming to raid the place because the bitch had fucked her way through half the Rayfort PD.”
I’m careful not to let my surprise show. How does he know that? Who told him about the raid? Since it never actually happened it’s not a matter of public record.
My heart is speeding so fast, beating furiously against the walls of my chest, that I swear it’s about to pound right through flesh and bone, but I try not to give away how scared I am. If Dylan puts the pieces together, I’m fucked. It won’t matter what Jenn tries to tell the police. It won’t matter if she claims I’m innocent. I’ll go down hard, and there’ll be nothing she can do to protect me a second time.
So, I use all my willpower to keep my cool. He can’t know he’s shaken me because then he’ll know he’s onto something.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, proud by how even I manage to keep my tone.
He jabs a finger at me and mutters in my face, “Don’t lie to me, bitch.”
Man, if only Aldridge could’ve heard that.
I don’t blink. I don’t flinch. I don’t retreat from his rage in any way.
Instead, I look him dead in the eye and calmly ask, “Why’d you come here, Dylan? Why did you take a job at this school of all the places in the country?”