Burn Before Reading(7)

"You keep getting in my way," He growled.

"Someone's gotta do it," I lilted. "Haven't you seen a single feel-good after school cartoon? How else will we defend against the evils of bullying? Who am I kidding - you probably grew up watching orchestras in Berlin instead of TV."

I was shocked by my own bravery, but then I realized my mouth was running on an auto-pilot born of chest-crushing anxiety. Could he really take my scholarship away? Even if he could, that doesn't mean I would just stand by and watch him harass and humiliate other people. Not when I know how much psychological damage that could do. Wolf's glare lingered on my face, over my blazer, to my skirt and long socks and worn converse shoes.

"You've got the best grades in the sophomore class behind Fitz," Wolf finally said. "But in reality you're a complete idiot."

"I'd rather be an idiot than a sadistic, spoiled little bully," I countered, my face turning red.

"So that's how you think of me," He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't think about you at all," I snapped, letting the anger and fear fuel my tongue. "Unlike the rest of the star-struck morons in this school, I think literally nothing about you, because, turns out, people who threaten me aren't high on my give-a-shit-about list. You wanna take my scholarship? Go ahead. Go cry to your daddy. But I'm sure as hell not gonna let it go easy. I'll fight you. I'll fight your stupid brothers. I'll fight your dad. I'll fight anyone who gets between me and what I want in life. So go ahead. Try me. But don't say I didn't fucking warn you."

Spinning on my heel, I stormed away, my heart beating like frenzied bird against my ribs. Adrenaline scorched my veins, my body ready for anything. If he tried to run after me, I'd kick him in his nuts and run. If he tried to get close to me again like yesterday, I'd punch his face.

If I wasn't certain about it before, I was now; I hated Wolfgang Alexander Blackthorn with every fiber of my body.

But to hate your enemy better, you have to get to know him better. And I wasn't going to let a bit of newly-found despising get in my way of figuring out Wolf's whole deal. The more I knew about him, the better I could defend my scholarship from him.

Ask anyone at Lakecrest Preparatory about the Blackthorn brother's personal lives, and they'll do one of two things; A. Pretend like they don't know you, or the Blackthorn brothers, or even where their own butthole is, or B. Become selectively mute for a minimum duration of three minutes while you stare at them expectantly waiting for an answer.

I found this out at lunch. Or, I tried to. Turns out if you stand up to the school's golden boy, word gets around about it, and you accrue a few nasty looks and an entire dumpster's worth of being shafted. Even the usual lunch table I sat at with some non-threatening girls told me I couldn't sit there. My one haven in this hellish cafeteria - gone. A guy elbowed me into dropping my tray into the trash, his friends snickering from a table far away. I'd gone unnoticed - like cardboard, or a drab decoration no one cared about - and now I was public enemy number uno. People might've felt ambivalent about me before, but they sure as shit hated me now. But it was fine - I didn't come to this place to make friends, anyway.

I asked everyone who didn't immediately wrinkle their nose at me what they knew about the Blackthorn brothers', and they all gave me the same answer. Coughs. Sniffing. A slight clearing of the throat. A few girls who didn't seem to hate me swooned extremely helpfully. Finally, I abandoned all hope of conversing intelligently with my peers and turned my sights on the teachers. More than several of them told me it was an inappropriate thing to ask and then kicked me out of their classroom before I could argue.

I managed to strike gold with Mrs. Greene, though. A young-ish, overly polite teacher, she had a baby face and the most gorgeous shade of auburn skin that she played up with floaty blouses and skirts. She was the chemistry teacher, so it probably helped that when I interrogated her, she was half-distracted with pouring two dangerous-looking chemicals together.

"The Blackthorn brothers?" She puffed. "Oh goodness, why are you asking me this now? Can't you wait until after class?"

"Well, no. You see, I'm writing a history essay titled 'An In-Depth Look At Examples of Homo Sapiens With Their Heads Dangerously Deep Up Their Own Buttholes', and I need to turn it in. Next period. Because I forgot to do it."

"You're the best student in my class, Bee. You can't expect me to buy that. Or that title." Mrs. Greene shot me a frown, and nearly dropped her beaker. "O-Oh, I don't know anything about them, alright? Even if I knew, Mr. Blackthorn is on the school board, so I couldn't just tell you. He'd have my head."

"I know a lot of people would probably have your head for mixing some very scary looking chemicals in the same room as one of your students. While I don't have protective gear on," I singsonged.

Mrs. Greene's mouth dropped. "You barged in!"

"Still," I squinted at my hand. "Is that a bit of acid I see, eating away at my skin? Help! Someone help!"

"Alright!" Mrs. Greene hissed, putting the beakers down. "You don't have to yell. I know they lost their mother when they were young."

I suddenly felt awful about snooping. Almost awful enough to stop. Keyword here being 'almost'.

"I know every year they take the school day off on January 8th, without fail. Mr. Blackthorn said once during a meeting that it was to visit her grave." Mrs. Greene grunted. "There. Are you happy now? Please leave, I've got a lot to prepare for lab today."