Forever Changed (8 page)

“Did you hear she only got a week’s detention? That’s sweet.” I heard a pimply face sophomore say to his gaggle of friends. “That would be so worth it to tell that dick off. My sister had him two years ago, and he had her in tears almost the whole year. Why the school keeps an ass…”

His words faded away as he and his friends turned the corner. He was right. A week’s detention wasn’t all that bad, but I had a hard time picturing Kassandra surrounded by the crew that was normally doing the time in the auditorium after school.

“I think it’s hot she dropped the f-bomb, now I wanna see what else she’ll do with her mouth,” Dwayne, a loud mouth junior who had always grated on my nerves said as he and a couple of other jockstraps walked by.

Without taking time to consider my actions, I had him by the collar and slammed up against the long row of lockers.

“What the hell, man,” he said, trying to act tough.

“What’d you say about her mouth?” I said in a deadly serious voice for his ears only.

“Dude, I was joking,” he said as I released my hold on him.

“Keep your mouth shut about her or you’ll find something shoved down your throat. You got me?” I threatened as him and his buddies backed away.

I could hear him muttering about my dad as he walked off, but I noticed they had picked up their pace. How I had gotten a reputation as a badass was beyond me. With the exception of what just happened, I hadn’t been in a fight since junior high when Mark Bartlett had roughed up Drake in the locker room after gym class, just to show him up. I waited until the next day and let him know what a real punch felt like. I had endured enough beatings from my so-called dad over the years that I could put one on when I needed to. I got suspended for that one. Even though it was worth it for wiping the smug look of the punk's face, I struggled afterward with the gut-wrenching reality that I was becoming my dad. I had decided at the moment I would never throw another punch if I could help it.

“Mr. Clark, did I just see you put your hands on another student?” Mr. Cribbs asked, appearing from around the corner.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, recognizing my opportunity.

Five minutes later, I strolled through the hallway on my way to Smokeville with a week’s worth of detention stuffed in my back pocket, along with my drumsticks.

Writing a letter of apology turned out to be easier than I had anticipated. I realized whether intentional or not, Mrs. Leighton had given me an easy out. Detention, on the other hand, weighed heavily on me the next morning as I got ready for school. We’d seen the losers who frequented afterschool detentions when we needed to grab props for a certain cheer routines from the auditorium. We'd have to endure the obvious comments and whistles because of our short skirts. Depending on her mood, Lacey would either egg them on by sucking seductively on her finger as we walked by, or just flip them off if she was in a pissy mood.

As the day progressed, my apprehension grew and I fought the temptation to blow the whole thing off, but the thought of flunking out and maybe having to go to summer school changed my mind. I had been slacking off enough this year as it was, so I really needed to pull it together.

“Hey, stranger,” Colton said, coming up to me after seventh period. “I heard you finally had something to say in class yesterday,” he said shooting me a mischievous grin before nudging me with his hip.

“Ha, what can I say? I guess my inner-rebel is coming out,” I said, joking with him for the first time in months. “Besides, what person hasn’t wanted to tell Matthews to f-off?”

“Right, I just never thought it would be you who got the honor.”

“Well, how 'bout we give you the honor and you can serve my detention,” I said, shooting a grin his way.

“No can do, chica, I have to flip burgers this afternoon.”

“What, you got a job?” I asked incredulously. As far as I knew, money wasn’t an issue for his family, with his father being a lawyer and all.

“Yeah, my dad has some grand scheme to man me up by making me get a job,” he said sarcastically.

“Man you up? You’re about as manly as they come,” I said, throwing a mock punch at his bicep. What the hell is that all about?” I asked confused.

“It’s too much to delve into now. I’ll tell you some other time so I don’t ruin your “detention high.”

“You’re a crack up,” I said tossing my bio and world history text books into my locker before slamming the door.

“Lunch tomorrow?” he asked hopefully as I started off toward detention hell.

“Can’t, I have to see Mrs. Leighton,” I said with a grimace.

“Ugh, counselor session?” he asked.

“I guess.”

“Maybe it'll help,” he said quietly, sounding a little unsure.

“Maybe,” I said, sounding doubtful.
Maybe if she let me cuss out more teachers during the session,
I couldn’t help thinking to myself as I entered the dimly lit auditorium.

I signed in with the teacher's aide that had the unpleasant task of making sure none of us skipped out. I walked down the slanted aisle, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. After a few moments, my eyes were able to scan the rows of seats and my heart sunk when I saw the hard-edged faces and sneering looks of the other attendees studying me. Finding an empty row, I walked several seats in so I could have the space completely to myself.

I pulled out my iPhone and opened up Facebook. I’d stayed clear from the social network scene over the last few months knowing Lacey was making catty remarks about me. I never bothered to check any of the comments until I realized I had more than two hundred missed notifications. Clicking on the oldest one, I was surprised by the words I read.

Sheesh, Lacey, stop being such a beeyotch, she just lost her dad. What did you do, bury your compassion with that stick in your ass?
A senior I rarely talked with had commented. I couldn’t help but snicker as I pictured Lacey’s face when she read the comment.

For the next half an hour, I clicked through all the messages, surprised that the majority were all favorable toward me. I had been so wrapped up in the way my friends had treated me after the accident, I pretty much assumed everyone would feel the same. I just figured no one would want to hang out with "Ms. Doom and Gloom," as Lacey liked to call me.

There were tons of private messages to me, expressing their sympathy over my father passing. I swallowed a lump in my throat that so many people I had once considered beneath me had shown more decency than those I had trusted the most. Overcome with mixed emotions, I set my phone to the side and scanned the room. A handful more students now filled the seats, and I found the row in front of me no longer empty.

I studied the person that sat almost directly in front of me and couldn’t help admiring the thick hair that slightly curled at his collar line. It was a rich auburn color that most girls would die for. Mesmerized, I leaned forward to see if it was a supple as it looked.

I jerked back just before my hand could reach its destination.
What the hell was wrong with me? Cussing a teacher out, pulling a fire alarm, and now, almost touching some guy's hair I didn’t even know? I was definitely losing it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping noise in front of me. Leaning forward, searching for the source of the noise, I saw the occupant in front of me was Maddon, drumming on his knee with a pair of drumsticks.

My stomach dropped to the floor, and all I could do was sit there like a deer in headlights, leaning back in my seat as he slowly turned around as if I had called his name.

Ours eyes locked in a momentary trance before he finally broke the connection by shifting back around in his seat.

What was that?
I thought as adrenaline began to bring my blood to a boil. He’s going to dismiss me like I had bothered him or something? It was he and his father who had sent my family on this runaway train of destruction.

I spent the last half hour of detention fighting the urge to say something, or throw something at him, or hit him upside the head with my book bag, or even cut the thick hair on his head that I had admired earlier before realizing it was him. I didn’t know what deranged act I wanted to do, I just wanted to make him understand how much I hated him.

Five minutes before detention was due to end, he stood up and gave me a sweeping glance that made me wonder if he already knew how much I loathed him. I turned my eyes away before I did something rash like claw his eyes out.

He turned his back on me and walked away when the teacher’s aide announced we were free to go. My rage that had been stewing for the last hour turned quickly to nausea like I had just come off a roller coaster. I dropped my head to my knees hoping some of the lightheadedness would clear.

“You okay, dear?” the aide asked, standing at the end of the row where I sat.

“Yeah, sorry, I just felt a little sick there,” I apologized when I saw she was waiting on me to leave.

“That’s fine,” she said as I grabbed my school bag and followed her out of the building.

By the time I reached the student parking lot, most of the nausea had passed, but I felt weak from the anger that had consumed me so intensely. I sat in my car with my eyes closed, hoping the cold air conditioning would help when I heard the crowd of football players and cheerleaders mingling into the parking lot after practice. Now that the season was over, they were much more laid back as everyone was laughing and joking around. Lacey was of course flirting with Brad, the captain of the football team, as they headed toward his Jeep Wrangler that resembled something you would find in a monster truck rally. He helped her climb in by sliding his hands under her cheerleading skirt to cup her butt. Her high-pitched giggle sounded so phony, knowing her as well as I did. Not that Brad minded, considering the way he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh before he closed her door and loped around the front of the Jeep to the driver’s side.

Brad sped by my vehicle as he tore out of the parking lot. Lacey, recognizing my vehicle shot me the bird as they squealed by. I guess that put an exclamation point on where our friendship was at now.

What a colossally bad idea it was to crash Kassandra’s detention. Of course, knowing something and actually doing it are two separate issues. At first, she didn’t even notice I was there while she messed around with her phone. I knew the instant she became aware that someone was sitting in front of her when I heard her shift forward in her seat. I could feel her eyes studying me, making my pulse race as I fought the urge to turn around. It was obvious the instant she realized it was me.

Everything after that felt like an out-of-body experience. I swear when I turned around to look at her, it was as if I had no control of my body, it just happened. And I just sat there like a total freak, saying nothing. She looked so pissed, if looks could kill, I would have dropped dead right there on the spot. I didn’t know what to do so I just froze, putting on my trademark, I-don’t-give-a-shit look on my face before turning back around.

I could feel her laser beam eyes burning a hole through the back of my head. For a moment, I even considered taking the chicken’s way out by bolting from the room. Instead, I slouched down, wishing the seat would swallow me whole.

With five minutes left, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, shooting her one last look before heading down my row. My gut shrank to the size of a walnut when I saw the gambit of emotions spread across her delicate face. My presence was causing her pain she didn’t deserve. Quickening my pace, I headed up the aisle, throwing some excuse to the teacher about needing to use the bathroom.

I didn’t stop until I was around the corner, completely out of site. Standing with my back against the wall, I welcomed the sting of the rough brick on the side of my hands as I pounded my fists. Damn my dad for making this mess, and damn me for taking the chicken-shit way out that day. If only I would have taken the bus or bummed a ride from Drake, none of this would have happened. The old man would have slept off his drunken haze while I was at school. Sure, I probably would have received a smack or two, but the tradeoff in the whole spectrum of things would have been worth it.