Elusion(24)

“I went to Elusion last night to see for myself if your claims were bogus, and guess what. I’m okay. See? Not addicted to anything, or on the verge of dying!”

Avery takes a bold step forward and then another. We’re about the same height, but she outweighs me by least twenty-five pounds. Yet when she looks at me with venom in her eyes, I don’t even blink.

“Do you know about the firewall, Regan?” she asks smugly.

I open my mouth, praying that some solid smack talk will come out, but there’s nothing but dead air. I know what a firewall is, but something in Avery’s coy voice makes me think that’s not what she’s referring to. Even so, I can’t let on that I’m confused here.

“What about it?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say.” Avery makes a fake pouty face, and the kids at her table snicker in response. “You’ll have to ask your boyfriend. His legal goons slapped me with a cease and desist order, so that means I can’t tell anyone what I know. Even you. But that shouldn’t matter, because he tells you everything, right? He wouldn’t keep a secret from you, even if it meant telling you that your father’s pet project is poisoning the minds of users. . . .”


I don’t hear anything else that follows her insulting my dad. I also don’t know why I can’t hold back and stop myself from doing what I’m about to do. It’s just impossible not to scream “Shut up!” at Avery and slam the palms of my hands into her chest as hard as I possibly can.

I catch her by surprise and send her staggering. She lands flat on her back, her glasses flying off her face as her head crashes against the floor. She turns to me and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

A group of people in the lunchroom have formed a semicircle around us, excitedly yelling, “Fight, fight, fight, fight!”

Avery gets up slowly, but I can tell by her flushed face that she’s about to lunge for me. We’re interrupted by the piercing sound of an electronic panic whistle. Mrs. Allen, a tenth-grade counselor and lunch supervisor, rushes toward us, the device dangling from a chain around her neck.

“Ms. Welch!” she shouts at me. “Back off, right now!”

I’m too shocked by my own behavior to reply. I’ve gotten pretty angry before, but I’ve never put my hands on anyone.

“Avery, are you all right?” Mrs. Allen asks as she touches her hair, clearly worried the bun she’s constructed on top of her head is no longer secure.

“Fine,” Avery says, though the small quiver in her lip would indicate otherwise.

I smirk a little, thinking how easily shock can dissolve into satisfaction when you win a round against the Averys of this world. Too bad my victory is over the moment Mrs. Allen cuffs a cold, bony hand around my forearm and says, “Let’s go.”


“I’m not going to tell her I’m sorry.”

Principal Caldwell lets out a heavy sigh as he leans back in his chair and folds his hands into his lap. This can mean one of two things—either he’s about to give up trying to make me apologize to Avery, or he’s preparing himself for another round of Let’s Rationalize with an Angry Teenager! We’ve been playing this game in his office for almost twenty minutes now and I haven’t given in yet, so for his sake, I hope it’s option number one.

“When it comes to violence, we have a zero-tolerance policy here. I could suspend you for what happened,” Caldwell says. “Now, I know you’re still going through a lot at home, and I’m sensitive to that. But the only way I can let you off the hook is if you apologize to Ms. Leavenworth.”

“Fine, suspend me. Anything would be better than sucking up to Avery.”

It’s been over an hour since my hands pressed up against her chest and sent her flying to the floor. All the rage I felt then is still here, gnawing at my heart and throbbing at the base of my skull. I wouldn’t be talking to Caldwell like this if it weren’t.

“Let me get this straight. You’d rather have a suspension on your permanent record than say two words to a girl you don’t like?”

“Why should I tell her I’m sorry when I don’t mean it? She’s the one spreading lies. She should be apologizing.”

“According to this school’s code of conduct, Avery has the right to vlog about whatever she wants, as long as she doesn’t compromise the school.” Caldwell scratches the back of his head, his brow furrowing with frustration. “But you don’t have the right to shove her, or anyone else, just because you don’t like what they’re saying. Can’t you understand that?”

Of course I do. His argument is more than sound. But I can’t back down. I won’t.

“I’m not saying sorry,” I say, calmly folding my hands in my lap.

“Okay.” Fed up, he springs from his chair and walks over to the InstaComm wall. After he presses a couple of numbers on the glass touch screen, it comes to life, revealing a vibrant image of his olive-skinned, black-haired executive assistant. “Lillian, could you patch me in to Meredith Welch, please? I need to speak with her about her daughter, Regan.”

“Yes, Mr. Caldwell,” she replies, and then the screen goes black.

“Hold on,” I say, bolting up from my seat. “You don’t have to call my mom.”