Untouched (Bay Falls High, #1)(51)

All in all it wasn’t that bad.

Even when I got to BFH and opened my locker, I just grinned and shook my head.

There was a white towel waiting for me.

A fresh, clean smelling white towel, perfectly folded.

It wasn’t even worth my time or effort to ask them how they managed to do this to my locker again and again. Because I didn’t mind it. I sort of liked it.

I shut the door and Beth was standing there.

“Whoa,” I said. “Hey.”

“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

“Of course. Are you okay? Were you at the ditch?”

She shook her head. “Never made it. Heard it was crazy.”

“I don’t understand who showed up but it was… crazy.”

“Hey, why don’t you ditch and come hang with me.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Fuck this place, right? I’m good with that. Let me text Pres so he knows I’m leaving.”

“Why?” Beth asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Just so they aren’t looking for me. They followed me home last night. To make sure I was okay.”

“Ti… I know you just got here and all…”

“Here, this is for you, trashcan whore,” a voice said next to me.

I was pushed into my locker and turned to see Blair in my face.

Holding a piece of paper to my chest.

I pushed her out of the way and Vicky was right there, a little screwdriver in her hand.

“Brought you something too,” Vicky said, the pointed end facing me.

“What do you two want?” I asked.

“That’s the damage on my fucking car,” Blair said.

I looked at the piece of paper and laughed.

“Write a check, bitch,” Vicky said.

“It wasn’t your car,” I said to Vicky. “Or are you secretly dirt poor like me? So you suck on Blair’s tits, hoping for a little milk…”

Vicky thrust the screwdriver at me.

I side stepped and heard the sound of it scratching the locker.

My eyes went wide.

“Jesus Christ,” Beth said. “You crazy fucking bitch.”

Vicky turned with the screwdriver in her hand, pointing it at Beth now.

“Go,” I said to Beth. “Get out of here.”

“Come with me,” Beth said.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I can handle this myself.”

“You know what?” Beth asked. “Whatever.”

She stormed away and I got Vicky’s attention back to me.

This wasn’t Beth’s fight. I didn’t want her to get hurt because of me. Bad enough I knew she had feelings for Denny and that situation exploded because of me.

“I’m not paying a thing,” I said. “I didn’t do a thing.”

“You want to play that game?” Blair asked. “That’s a deadly game, Tinsley.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked. “I’m poor, right?”

“There’s ways,” Vicky said.

She looked to the screwdriver.

I made a quick move.

I grabbed her wrist and twisted.

She screamed for help.

I swiped the screwdriver out of her hand.

When I moved toward Blair, she hurried back and screamed even louder for help.

I put the stupid pink invoice for her stupid fucking car against the wall and I jammed the screwdriver into it.

It was to send a clear message.

And I turned with a grin on my face.

I wanted to see Blair and Vicky’s faces.

Make sure they understood…

Fuck.

Jacobson was standing there.

Blair was crying, Vicky holding her, slowly walking away, reassuring her things would get better.

“My office,” Jacobson said.

I lowered my head.

Super-big-ultra-fuck.





What could be worse than going to the principal’s office?

Watching Claire bust into the principal’s office.

Her eyes wide and confused.

On a phone call, desperate to end it, only to end up just hanging up.

I put my hands to my face and groaned.

“Claire,” Jacobson said.

“Jacobson,” Claire said.

Last name? Whoa.

“I think we have a problem,” Jacobson said. “A weapon problem.”

Claire looked at me. “Weapon?”

“Weapon?” I asked. “No.”

“A screwdriver is a weapon,” Jacobson said.

“Vicky…” I cleared my throat. “Never mind.”

“What happened?” Claire asked.

“It appears there was a confrontation between Tinsley and another student who had her car vandalized.”

Claire looked at me.

I shook my head. “I didn’t do a thing.”

“I’m sure you could understand the student’s frustration…”

“Bite me,” Claire said.

My eyes went wide.

Jacobson’s cheeks turned red. “Excuse me?”

“Vandalizing a car? Who’s?”

“Blair,” I said.

“The Wethritton’s?” Claire asked. “She’s worried about her car? Her father owns half the goddamn car dealerships along the coast.”