CHAPTER 10

I glanced at my watch: 8:40. I was 25 minutes late to class.

I took a deep breath and turned the metal knob.

I entered, and the entire class stopped and looked up at me. Including the teacher.

Silence.

“Ms….” the teacher, forgetting my name, walked to her desk and picked up a piece of paper, scanning it, “….Paine. The new girl. You are 25 minutes late.”

A stern, older woman, the teacher glared down at me.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

I hesitated.

“Sorry?”

“That’s not good enough. It may be acceptable to be late to class wherever you are from, but it’s certainly not acceptable here.”

“Unacceptable,” I said, and immediately regretted it.

An awkward silence covered the room.

“Excuse me?” the teacher asked, slowly.

“You said ‘not acceptable.’ You meant ‘unacceptable.’”

“OH—SHIT!” exclaimed a noisy boy from the back of the room, and the entire class erupted into laughter.

The teacher’s face turned bright red.

“You little brat. Report to the Principal’s office right now!”

The teacher marched over and opened the door beside me. I stood inches away, close enough so that I could smell her cheap perfume. “Out of my classroom!”

Normally I would have slinked quietly out of the room—in fact, I would have never corrected a teacher to begin with. But something had shifted within me, something I didn’t entirely understand, and I felt a defiance rising. I didn’t feel that I had to show respect to anyone. And I no longer felt afraid.

Instead, I stood where I was, ignoring the teacher, and slowly scanned the classroom, looking for Jonah. The room was packed, and I looked row to row. No sign of him.

“Ms. Paine! Did you not hear what I said!?”

I looked defiantly back. Then I turned and slowly walked out of the room.

I could feel the door slam behind me, and then heard the muffled clamor in the room, followed by, “Quiet down, class!”

I continued down the empty hallway, wandering, not really sure where I was going.

I heard footsteps. In the distance, a security guard appeared. He walked right for me.

“Pass!” he barked at her, still a good twenty feet away.

“What?” I answered.

He got closer.

“Where’s your hall pass? You’re supposed to hold it out visibly at all times.”

“What pass?”

He stopped and examined me. He was an ugly, mean-looking man, with a huge mole on his forehead.

“You can’t walk the halls without a signed pass. You know that. Where is it?”

“I didn’t know—”

He picked up his CB radio, and said into it, “Hall pass violation in wing 14. I’m bringing her to detention now.”

“Detention?” I asked, confused. “What are you—”

He grabbed me roughly by the arm and yanked me down the hall.

“Not another word out of you!” he snapped.

I didn’t like the feel of his fingers digging into my arm, leading me as if I were a child. I could feel the heat rising through my body. I felt the Rage coming on. I didn’t quite know how, or why, but I knew. And I knew that, in moments, I wouldn’t be able to control my anger—or my use of force.

I had to stop it before it was too late. I used every ounce of my will to make it stop. But as long as his fingers were on me, it would just not go away.

I flung my arm quickly, before the full power took over mw, and watched as his hand went flying off of m, and as he stumbled several feet back.

He stared back at me, shocked that a girl my size could throw him several feet across the hall with just a slight jerk of my arm. He wavered between outrage and fear. I could see him debating whether to attack me or back off. He lowered his hand to his belt, on which hung a large can of pepper spray.

“Lay your hands on me again, young lady,” he said in a cold rage, “and I will mace you.”

“Then don’t put your hands on me,” I answered defiantly. I was shocked at the sound of my own voice. It had changed. It was deeper, more primal.

He slowly removed his hand from the spray. He gave in.

“Walk in front of me,” he said. “Down the hall and up those stairs.”

He dropped me in the principal’s office and walked away.

I turned and saw fifteen kids, all ages, sitting, standing, all apparently waiting to see the principal. It was chaos. If I was quick, I could slip out.

I saw my chance. As the door opened again, I ducked past another kid and slipped out into the hall.

I had to find Jonah. I had to know if he was all right.

The cafeteria was packed, and I quickly walked up and down the aisles, looking for him. Nothing. I walked a second time, slowly scanning every table, and still couldn’t find him.

I regretted not going back to him, not checking on his wounds, not calling an ambulance. I wondered if he had been really hurt. Maybe he was in the hospital. Maybe he wouldn’t even come back to school.

Depressed, I grabbed a tray of food and found a table with a clear view of the door. I sat there, hardly eating, and watched every kid who came in, hoping for a sign of him.

The door swung open, and a boy walked in.