29: Franny (2/2)
”I'm just trying to help you, Francesca,” Nicks says. ”People can act out during situations similar to yours. I just want to make sure that things with your dad are okay.”
I hear a snort behind me.
I ignore Nicks and turn around to face the two girls who are still at their lockers. They look to be sophomores. ”You got a problem?” I ask.
One of the girls shakes her head, but her mouth is pulled into a smirk.
”No,” I say, ”come on. Tell me. What the fuck is your problem?”
”Francesca, leave it now,” Nicks says from behind me, but she's just background noise now.
”Come on, Francesca,” the girl says, laughing a little, ”don't take it personally. Everyone knows about your dad now, anyway.”
”Wanna clarify that?” I ask as the bell for the end of class rings and people start coming out of their rooms.
”Francesca, let's go, now!” Nicks yells.
The other girl pipes in at that point. ”Well everyone knows he's a complete fuck-up that gambled all your things away.”
And then I snap.
That little piece of thread goes. That one little grip I had on my emotions. Just like that. In one quick, clean swoop. There's nothing left over. Just anger—red, hot and burning.
I don't realize what I'm doing until I surge forward and push the girl, grabbing the collar of her shirt. Her head slams back against the lockers. She screams but it's not in pain. Just an irritating scream of weakness.
Hands are on my shoulders, trying to pull me off. I slam the girl one more time against the lockers before I'm dragged completely off her. She tries to go at me but another teacher holds her back. People are surrounding us, some silent and some loud.
”Stop!” Nicks and the other teacher yell.
I thrash in Nicks' grip on me. The other girl keeps trying to go at me but she's all over the place.
”If you talk shit about my dad again, I'll fuck your face up so bad, you bitch!” I screech.
I aim a glob of spit at her and she finally breaks out of the teacher's hold and manages to get far enough to grab my hair. She yanks it down and Nicks is already there, trying to get her off. I grit my teeth as the pain goes through my scalp, stinging at my eyes. I grab her wrist and shove her away.
She stumbles back.
People think that's it. The fight is over. The teachers have hold of us and we'll be marched out. Something to talk about for the rest of the day. More giggles and wide eyes. But I'm pissed and I'm all over the place. I'm a complete train wreck by now. So I do something stupid.
I punch her in the face.
I let Nicks pull me out. I don't struggle when I'm taken to the office. I don't look back and worry over the girl. There is this numbness—it's nice. But I'm starting to learn that it's also dangerous.
***
The office is quiet, apart from the constant tapping of keyboards in front of computer screens. I sit in one of the many chairs in the little waiting area. There's a window right beside me so every time someone walks down the hallway, they look right at me. I pretend I don't see them.
I'm waiting for them to decide what to do with me. It's a sort of agonizing wait and I see now why so many people hate it.
The door opens silently and I look up as Tyler creeps in. He doesn't look at me as he slowly lowers himself down on the seat beside me, trying not to be noticed.
”I say you have about ten minutes before they realize,” I say.
Tyler looks at me. ”What the hell was that?”
”I don't know.”
”Luckily, you've got a shit punch,” he mutters. ”She's just got a bruise, she'll live.”
”As shit as Carl?” I ask and lightly trail a finger down his cheek where it's discolored.
His hand comes up grabs my wrist. He sighs and leans over, pressing his forehead against my fingers as his hand comes up to cup them.
”How bad is it?” he asks.
”They're still deciding,” I say. ”You angry at me for hitting her?”
He shakes his head. ”I heard she was talking about your dad. I would have probably done the same thing.”
”So now you're encouraging acts of violence?” I tease.
Tyler doesn't smile. ”I get it.”
I laugh a little. ”Get what?”
”Why you snapped,” he says. ”You got angry, right? Wanted violence instead of talking. Felt moody, all the way down into every part of your brain? I've felt that, too. And it won't go away unless you make it, Franny. Stop letting every little bit of violence in your life fuck you over.”
”You're talking like it's from experience,” I comment.
”I got into fighting for a reason,” Tyler murmurs and his hand tightens over mine. ”But that anger won't just go. It will grow and grow and grow. Don't let it do that, okay?”
”Okay.” I nod slowly.
He stays for a little longer and I flex my fingers so that our hands are clasped together instead of one over the other. I stare down at them. ”This is different.”
Tyler smiles a little and runs his thumb gently over my swollen knuckles. ”Good different or bad?”
I look up at him and slowly reach over to press a kiss to his bruised cheek. ”Good different.”
- Ellie x