CHAPTER 6: Powerful Statements and Bad Boys

After the stupid announcement, the students went wild. I think some of them even started demanding that they had rights, which was dramatic, but also fair because uniforms were basically fabric prison sentences. It took a while for the teachers to control the situation, and by control, I mean they threatened to suspend anyone who “misbehaved.” Very inspiring leadership. Once the rebellion had been emotionally crushed, we were forced to leave the hall and go to our next lessons as if our personal freedom hadn’t just been attacked in front of the entire school.

So there I was, tiredly dragging my feet down the hallway like a tragic ghost with a timetable. Students rushed around me, some hurrying to class, others clearly hurrying away from class, which I respected on a spiritual level. I would have joined the second group if I hadn’t been so tired. My head felt like it was seconds away from exploding, my stomach was still mourning the fruit Kyle had forced me to abandon, and to make matters worse, I had chemistry next. Not the good kind, obviously. The science kind. I groaned in frustration.

I had already passed my locker to dump my useless books and collect the slightly less useless ones. Chemistry Lab 2 sat ahead, its blue door propped open as students filed inside. I didn’t hate chemistry exactly. I just hated school, which unfortunately included chemistry by association. Mr Sorelli wasn’t all that bad, though. He smiled too much, which was suspicious, but he wasn’t the kind of teacher who looked at students like we were unpaid debts.

“Do you plan to stand there all lesson?” he asked.

I glanced up to find him watching me from the doorway with, naturally, a smile on his face. He was always too jolly. It made me nervous. No one who taught teenagers for a living should look that emotionally intact.

“Is that an option?” I asked as politely as I could. It was hard to be grumpy with someone smiling directly in your face.

“Unfortunately not. Now, shall we proceed with the lesson?” He gestured towards the lab, where everyone had already started settling into seats.

I sighed and walked in. Might as well get it over with.

I went straight to my usual seat at the back. Alone. Each table had two seats because, for some unknown reason, Mr Sorelli loved making us work together. Mostly in pairs. Personally, I thought he had signed up for the wrong kind of chemistry. I, however, was usually lucky because our class had an odd number of students, which meant one person always ended up without a partner. Me. It wasn’t hard to keep it that way. I didn’t have friends in this class, and I usually glared at anyone who dared to look like they might approach. The poor soul would quickly find another partner. I preferred working alone. I wanted to pass on my own or fail on my own without having to worry about an extra human being lowering the quality of my suffering.

“Alright, class,” Mr Sorelli said, clasping his hands together with far too much excitement, “today we shall begin a new assignment.”

Here we go again.

“So find yourself a partner, and I will give out the next instructions.”

Looking around at my fellow jailmates, I could tell everyone expected it. In fact, most of them had already arranged themselves beside their chosen partners before he finished speaking. Not that I wanted group work, but why was it always pairs? Pair work was becoming repetitive. At least in groups you could disappear emotionally while the louder people fought over who got to write the title.

I relaxed further into my seat, peaceful for the first time all morning. No one even glanced my way. As usual, I could work alone. I did a small happy dance in my head. Maybe I could nap while everyone else bonded over chemicals.

Then I made the mistake of looking at Mr Sorelli.

His eyes drifted to the empty seat beside me, and from across the room I could feel the pity gathering. For some reason, he assumed I was some miserable recluse instead of a girl who had made a healthy academic decision to avoid people. If only he knew.

The whole class jumped as the door banged open.

Then he walked in.

My eyes widened in realisation. We had an odd number of students until he decided to show up and ruin everything by evening out the number. This was bad. Very bad.

I sat up straighter and eyed him suspiciously. Why couldn’t he just bunk like a normal delinquent? The whole class stared at him. So did Mr Sorelli.

“You’re late,” the teacher said.

The boy simply smirked and handed him a slip of paper. Probably an excuse. He then sauntered towards the back of the room to his usual seat, a few tables to my right. Not far enough for me.

Mr Sorelli somehow kept smiling as he closed the door and continued. “As I was saying, find yourself a partner.”

The rest of the class had stopped staring at the late arrival, but I hadn’t. My eyes narrowed on the boy who thought far too highly of himself. The cliché bad boy. Just thinking it put a bad taste in my mouth. Of course he wore a black leather jacket, had jet-black hair styled into a mohawk, and was considered your typical eye candy. Not my words, I assure you. His brown eyes scanned the room, then landed on mine. I hadn’t realised I was scowling at him until he raised a brow in question. Then he smirked, probably getting the wrong message.

I’m glaring, not staring, you idiot.

I knew people said not to judge a book by its cover, but I didn’t like him. He gave off a creepy vibe. Plus, the rumours about him were insane. In Zarp City, rumours usually came in two flavours: completely made up or disturbingly accurate. With him, no one seemed to know which category applied.

“Anyone still in need of a partner?” Mr Sorelli asked, not-so-discreetly looking in my direction.

I shrank into my seat and stared at my desk.

“I’m actually in need of one,” the boy said.

I looked up at him with a full glare painted across my face. No. He would be alone, and I would be alone. Simple. A peaceful arrangement between two people who should never speak.

“Daniella?” Mr Sorelli asked. “What about you?”

The whole class turned to look at me.

I couldn’t even lie properly because my bag occupied the seat beside me like a loyal companion. I patted it. “I’m actually good, sir. Got all I need right here.”

Normally, he let me go, but this time he seemed more determined. “You need a partner. This assignment specifically requires two people. I can’t grade you on it if you work alone.”

Though he was telling me I might fail, he still had a smile on his face. It made his moustache look like it was floating.

I glanced at the boy who also had no partner. He was staring straight at me.

“Okay, yes,” I forced out. “I need a partner.” Mr Sorelli opened his mouth, probably to suggest the unthinkable, but I beat him to it. “Preferably one who hasn’t been in prison.”

A few “ooohs” rose from the students as they turned in their seats to enjoy the show, completely forgetting there was a teacher standing at the front. I looked back at the boy, who didn’t look the least bit shocked by my words. You must be wondering why I kept awkwardly calling him the boy. Well, I never bothered to learn his name. In my defence, learning someone’s name felt dangerously close to caring.

“Actually,” he said, voice annoyingly smooth, “it was juvy.”

He had the audacity to respond. I was pretty sure he was purposely making his voice sound deep to fit the whole bad-boy façade.

“Right,” I scoffed, “because that’s better.”

His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Mr Sorelli interrupted before we could turn chemistry into a crime scene. “Okay. Since you both need partners, you two can work together. Now sit together so we can start.”

The boy leaned back in his chair. “Come here, partner.”

I didn’t miss the sarcastic tone.

I turned to him and spoke rudely. “No. You come here.” I crossed my arms. No way would I listen to him.

“Can you two stop being childish already? You’re delaying the whole—” a student at the front began, then immediately shut up when two pairs of angry eyes dared him to continue. He gulped and turned back around.

“Fine.” The boy dramatically stood from his seat and walked to my table.

No. No. No.

He stopped beside the chair next to me and motioned for me to move my bag. I simply stared him down. Or up, because I was sitting and he was standing, but I bet I still looked intimidating.

Then he did what any stupid person would do.

He picked up my bag and carelessly threw it onto my table.

I didn’t even bother opening my mouth in shock because I was already on my feet, one hand wrapped around the collar of his jacket. I didn’t have anything valuable in my bag. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have been so angry, but his very existence offended me. Everything he did seemed designed to set me off, and he knew it. I say this because I saw him struggle not to smile.

“Just because you’ve been to prison doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate to fu—”

“Daniella!” Mr Sorelli cut in. “That’s enough. You’re scaring the poor boy.”

I glanced at him and saw genuine shock on his face. The rest of the class, however, seemed to be enjoying the show. Some girls were even eating popcorn, completely forgetting they were in a chemistry lab during an actual lesson. Where did they even get popcorn from? Did people carry emergency drama snacks now?

I looked back at the boy. Specifically, his neck. Ready to wrap my hands around it and—

“Juvy.”

I glanced up.

“Not prison. Juvy.” His eyes held a glint of mischief as they scanned my face.

Realising how close our faces were, I roughly shoved him away. “Touch my bag again and it will be the last thing you do,” I whispered angrily so Mr Sorelli wouldn’t hear. Then I picked up my bag and placed it beside me on the ground.

It didn’t take long for him to annoyingly plop down beside me.

"Relax, will you?" he said. "It's just a bag."

I ignored him and faced the front.

Mr Sorelli watched us for a long moment, still looking mildly traumatised, before forcing himself back into teacher mode when someone asked about the assignment.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Now that everyone has a partner..."

Everyone except my patience. He began explaining the assignment while handing out worksheets, occasionally writing things on the board that I was fairly certain belonged in another language. Something about observations, experiments, results, and working together. Fantastic. Apparently my grade now depended on another human being. Mr Sorelli placed one worksheet on our desk before moving to the next pair. The boy reached for it at the exact same time I did.

Our hands bumped. We both immediately pulled away. "You take it," he said.

"I don't want it."

"You literally reached for it."

"I changed my mind."

He shrugged and picked it up himself. For several blissfully quiet seconds, neither of us spoke. Then...

"So, partner."

I closed my eyes. "What?"

"You planning on glaring at me the whole assignment?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether you continue existing."

He chuckled under his breath. Why was he laughing? "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have."

He rested one elbow on the table. "You always this friendly?"

"No."

"So I'm special?"

"No."

"Good to know."

Silence. Glorious, beautiful silence. I started reading through the worksheet, making a point of pretending he wasn't sitting six inches away. Unfortunately, pretending someone didn't exist became much harder when they leaned closer to read over your shoulder. I slowly looked sideways. He was looking at the worksheet. He looked up. "What?"

"Personal space."

"I'm reading."

"So am I."

"You weren't."

"I was about to."

"Oh." He leaned back again without another word. Well... That had been unexpectedly easy. Maybe he wasn't— No. I stopped that thought immediately. One mildly sensible action didn't erase the whole prison... sorry, juvy thing. Mr Sorelli clapped his hands together. "Remember," he said cheerfully, "both partners will receive the same grade."

I physically recoiled. The same grade? Apparently suffering had become a team sport. The remainder of the lesson passed surprisingly quietly. He occasionally scribbled something onto the worksheet. I occasionally moved the worksheet further away from him.He moved it back. I moved it again. By the end of the lesson, our greatest scientific achievement had been discovering exactly how stubborn two people could be.The bell finally rang.

Freedom.

I grabbed my bag before he even stood up.

"Hey—"

Too late. I was already halfway out the door.

“Hey!” a voice shouted through the throng of people.

My feet carried me faster, left and right competing to see who could escape first. I scurried through the stampede of humans. It was first break, so I was heading to the cafeteria. Oh, and did I mention I was also running away from my chemistry partner? Yeah. Well, I was.

I sped up when the cafeteria doors came into sight. Or attempted to. “Ow!” I quickly retracted my elbow from the unfortunate person who dared to block my path. Oops.

Making it through the doors, I went straight to the line, got my food and headed to our usual table. The cafeteria bustled with life as always. Tables were filled with humans socialising and eating, which was lovely for them. I was mainly interested in the eating part.

I sat down on the bench and dramatically placed my tray on the table. My dramatic act was ignored because another dramatic scene was already happening there.

“Uniforms! Are they insane?” Chris shouted from across the table on my right. He stood with one foot planted on the bench, elbows on his bent knee and a scowl on his face.

“Completely outrageous!” Tommy screamed into my ear, sitting beside me with the exact same facial expression. Literally. Sometimes the twin thing was unsettling.

“I will not stand for this!” Xeine shouted, jumping to his feet and slamming the table.

I silently watched with amusement as I munched on my grilled cheese sandwich. Xeine continued, voice swelling like he was performing for a tragic theatre audience. “They cannot, and they shall not, force me to wear such atrocity!”

What was this? A poorly directed play?

I looked around the cafeteria to see if anyone else had noticed the free show. Nope. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business. I wished they would do the same thing every time I did something embarrassing.

My friends continued their play, completely disregarding their food. I, on the other hand, did not. All three of them were now standing around the table shouting complaints while I innocently stretched. My hand somehow found its way onto Tommy’s tray, and the next thing I knew, I was munching down his sandwich and eyeing Xeine’s tray.

A girl had to eat.

“Danny!”

Oh no.

I quickly looked up at the sound of my name. All three were staring at me expectantly.

They caught me.

“What’s your take on this uniform thing?” Chris asked.

Well. That was unexpected.

I quickly finished chewing and swallowed the last of Chris’s sandwich. “Um...” I paused to glance at their emptying trays, wondering when they would realise I had eaten their food and attempt to strangle me. Maybe I could distract them.

“It’s unacceptable!” I shouted, adding a dramatic scoff for effect. “They have no right whatsoever to dictate what we wear. We deserve the chance to express ourselves!”

A loud chorus of “yeahs” boomed through the cafeteria. My words had, not surprisingly, gathered a crowd. All eyes were now on me as I gave my speech. I felt so important. I had to admit, having people hang onto every word made me feel powerful, so I continued.

“How can we express ourselves if we’re limited to uniforms?”

I swiftly stood up and climbed onto the table, carefully avoiding the trays so I didn’t kick them. That would have been embarrassing. Xeine, Tommy and Chris stared up at me with looks of awe. I saw pride in their eyes too, which meant they definitely had not seen me push aside their empty trays.

“They are our bodies!” someone shouted from the crowd.

I looked towards the girl and nodded. “Exactly! Our bodies. If we want to be half naked, then so be it!”

Another wave of “yeahs” echoed through the cafeteria. I could’ve sworn I also heard “Who needs clothes anyway?” but my hearing was questionable sometimes. As much as I didn’t exactly support walking around half naked, what people chose to do with their bodies was their own concern. Also, I was in the middle of a speech and had somehow become the voice of a revolution. Details could be handled later.

Glancing around at my follo—fellow-minded people, I felt powerful. It was a dream come true. I was starting a revolution. An uproar. Finally, I had soldiers to fight this war with me against the school authorities. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

To add more effect to my words, I raised my fists and stomped my right foot onto the table.

I wish I hadn’t.

I put more force into it than I realised. My foot landed on the edge of my tray, and the thing shot into the air like it had been personally offended. Time slowed as the metal tray spun above the crowd. For one terrible second, everyone looked up.

Then it slammed straight into a student’s forehead.

The boy fell backwards.

The crowd scattered away from him.

Silence swallowed the cafeteria.

Everyone stared at me in shock. My face mirrored theirs, except probably paler. The boy wasn’t moving. Blood began spilling from a large cut on his forehead, bright against his skin and far too real for the joke my life had been two seconds earlier.

My stomach dropped.

What had I done?