twenty-five.

Cora

These past two weeks have been…interesting.

The bullying has stopped. I mean, I still get the occasional note in my locker or shoved under my door and students still give me dirty looks in the halls or call me Peasant Girl, but that’s minor compared to the things they used to do. I can see how their eyes burn to trip me during class, though, or how they itch to slam the ball into my head during gym. But they hold back.

Monday morning, I walk toward my first period with my head lowered, clutching my books to my chest, worried the silence has been building up to something major and it’s just a matter of time until BAM. But first period leads to second period and second leads to third and…nothing. Is it possible the bullying has actually stopped?

I tell myself not to lower my guard. I don’t trust these kids.

As I’m shoving some books into my locker at the start of lunch period, I feel that familiar charge in the air. Spinning around, I catch Alessandro, Ethan, and Colt marching down