I blink quickly and find Professor Schmidt standing next to our table.
He glances down at the papers in his hands. “I’m not sure what’s going on. You usually do such great work.”
I wouldn’t call any of my work great. Honestly, I struggle through it and what comes out in the end is passable to turn in. This time it was relatively easy to chisel on the blackboard surface a picture of someone of interest. Sure it sucked because there’s no second chance with chiseling. Once the white shows up, it’s there. I chiseled Kit Harrington, and I enjoyed the hell out of it but–
He places my project in front of me and what I see is not Kit Harrington. In fact, I don’t even know what it is.
“This is supposed to be Kit Harrington,” I tell him, moving my fingers over the chiseled marks. There’s barely anything left of his gorgeous face.
It’s all a mess of scratches all over. There’s almost no black left in the paper at all.
“Someone messed it up,” I yell, standing up and looking around. Everyone turns to look to see what all the noise is. Some annoyed, some unaware, some blank. But there was a smaller class last Wednesday, more than usual because of Halloween. I simply dropped my project off and left giving someone the perfect opportunity to fuck it up.
Professor Schmidt clears his throat. “Do you have any evidence of this, Mera?”
“Of course I do. I even took a picture when I was done because I loved it so much.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my pictures to find it.
“Here!” I thrust the phone into his hand and he squints down.
Nodding, he hands my phone to me. “That looks nothing like what you turned in. I’d say that’s definitely a 28/30.”
He turns to the rest of the class. “Who did it? Who messed with Mera’s drawing?”
No one says a word, some looking at each other and others rolling their eyes.
“Well? Which of you was it?” I yell. “Which one of you bitches did it?”
“Now Mera,” Professor Schmidt says. “Simmer down. I’ll get to the bottom of this.” He walks to the front of the class. “Everyone will get an F on this project too if no one fesses up. So who did it? I won’t report you to the Dean this time.”
What the fuck? No! The person who did this absolutely should be reported.
“It was him,” a girl’s voice says. “I saw him grab her project and go at it with his chisel.”
I follow the pointed hand up front and see a buff guy with a buzz cut. His shoulders are so broad he has to be involved with some kind of sport.
“Mr. Mackenzie, is that true?”
He scoffs. “Fine. Yeah I did it. Why does she get to get away with murder? My team is suffering because of her and we still don’t have a replacement captain. This was supposed to be our year.”
In a flash, the seat next to me is suddenly empty and the body that was there is now up front, right in front of that guy’s face.
“You don’t mess with someone’s art. Each piece, no matter how bad, takes effort and work. Creativity and time. You don’t steal that away from anyone no matter what they’ve done.”
He laughs. “Your brother is rolling in his grave, wherever the fuck his body is. I can’t believe you’re really standing up for this bi–”
The guy’s head goes flying back as he gets punched into the guy sitting next to him. The guy scoots back letting the guy fall to the ground. Mackenzie struggles to get up, flailing his arms.
“Mr. Goldsworthy!” Professor Schmidt yells running over.
I cover my mouth as Callan kicks the guy once twice, twice, three times by the time Professor Schmidt reaches him, pulling him away. I get a glimpse of Callan’s wild eyes as he looks around the classroom. “None of you get to decide that she’s guilty.” He points his bloodied thumb to his chest. “I’m the fucking judge, jury, and executioner. Remember that the next time any of you think of pulling shit like this.”
My jaw drops open as he meets my eyes for a second. The darkness inside them makes me gulp worriedly.
“M-Mr. Goldsworthy, I’m afraid I’m going to have to send you to your father.”
“That’s fine.” He goes up front and snatches a blank paper, comes back to his seat for his bag and leaves.
A buzzing in my head starts as Professor Schmidt clears his throat. “Mr. Mackenzie, feel free to go to the nurse’s office.”
I stare down at my ruined project and raise my hand. “Can I please go, Professor?” I’ll just get a blank paper next class and turn it in on Monday.
Sighing, he rubs the back of his head. “Sure, it’s the least I can do. I’ll count you as here for this class.”
I grab my bag, slinging it over my arm and take off. I need to know why he did that. But I never catch up to him, so I wait outside the administration building.
Ten minutes later, he comes out with his signature frown.
“Hey.”
He glances at me and moves past me.
“Why did you do that?”
He stops in his tracks and turns to look at me. “I think I already explained that pretty well. Art should never be destroyed by anyone’s hands but the creator’s. That’s all there is to it.”
“Well…” I grit my teeth, struggling to say the words that I owe him. “Thank you for that. I wanted to punch the guy myself. If I hadn't taken the picture, who knows if I would’ve gotten credit or not.”
“Don’t thank me.”
He walks away, going the opposite direction of the fraternity, to the parking lot.
Where is he going?
Oh well. It’s none of my business. At least I have an excuse to eat dinner early today.
People are pouring inside the dining hall when I get to the doors.
Tonight seems like a good night for Chinese, and it’s evident other people think so too judging by the long line in front of the Chinese restaurant.
“Mera! Merrrraaa!”
Brandie?
I turn around just in time to feel an arm go around my shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing here? Art class get out early? Though I can’t be surprised with how lax you said he is.”
“No, he let me leave. Some guy trashed my project so I asked to leave early for…emotional distress.”
She gasps and covers her mouth. “That’s just horrible. Did he send him to the Dean? He better have.”
“Nope.”
She rolls her eyes. “He really is lax then.”
“Callan punched him in the face though.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What? I thought he hated your guts.”
“He does.” Well, he did. Maybe still does? I don’t fucking know. He plays too many games with my mind. And those looks he gives me when his fingers are inside me. I wonder if he had that same look on his face the first time he did it. “He’s just passionate about art.”
She seems to accept that as she nods. “You’re going to eat with us right?”
“Who’s us?” Please let it just be Jamie and their boyfriends.
“Jamie, Emerson, Brett, Gemma, Ashlynn, Luella, and…”
At this point I just know it’s coming so I finish her sentence. “Collette.”
I’ve been avoiding her every time I see her in the food hall so I don’t replicate what happened that first day. I’ve been doing great at it, until now.
“I think I’ll pass. See, I have PTSD from the first day–” I start with a laugh.
“Yeah, I saw. You spilled that orange juice on her. That has to be all under the bridge by now though, don’t you think?”
“Ha!” I laugh so hard my stomach starts to hurt. “That’s funny. Collette hates me. She still thinks I’m responsible, just like Callan.”
I make my order and wait by the sound counter for five minutes for it to come out. When it finally does, Brandie smiles widely. “Come on, let’s go. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
She grabs my arm and hauls me to the table. It’s so hard saying no to her because she’s alwa
ys so helpful. And she deals with my nightmares without complaining about them. Once I finish eating I can leave too.
Collette glares as I approach the table. “Did you have to bring the klutz with you?”
“Coll, don’t be mean,” Brandie says with a pout, taking the chair with a tray in front of it.
“Congrats, klutz, my dinner is ruined,” she spits.
I sigh. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
Jamie peeks her head around Brett and Brandie. “Well, I’m glad to see you, Mera.”
“Mera’s cool,” Emerson agrees.
Brett nods and smiles in my direction. “Yep.”
“I guess if half the table disagrees…” Collette murmurs, annoyed by their responses.
“Ah, actually more than half,” Gemma pipes up. “Mera, we haven’t eaten together since that one day with those guys.”
“You mean the assholes who were harassing you?” Seems like it just happened yesterday, but it really has been so long.
“Someone harassed you?” Collette asks, turning toward Gemma.
Gemma pushes her glasses up her nose and turns to me. “Luckily, Mera was there because I had no idea what to do…again.”
Collette rolls her eyes. “I told you, just stand up for yourself. Tell them off. You don’t need her to do it for you.”
Gemma looks away from Collette, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Hey,” I say, leaning forward to look at Gemma. She glances up at me. “It’s okay to have friends stand up for you. What are friends for if they can’t stand up for you against the assholes?”
I’m slowly starting to figure out this whole friend thing, and the way Collette talks to Gemma makes me uncomfortable for her.
“She’s right, Gemma. If I was there I would’ve stood up for you, er, at least I would’ve tried,” Luella says in a soft voice.
Ashlynn pats Gemma’s arm. “They better be glad I wasn’t there. In fact, hey, do you remember who it was?”
“It was so long ago, I have no clue,” she says with a shrug.
I shove a piece of orange chicken in my mouth.
Ashlynn glances at me. “What about you? Do you remember?”
Swallowing quickly, I shake my head. “Nope, but if I see them again, I’ll know right away. Assholes.”
“Who’s an asshole?” a voice says, coming around.
I glance behind me to find Noel with Tyrell and Vincent at his side.
Turning back in my seat, I look up at Gemma who shakes her head quickly.
“Why are you guys clamming up now? I want to hear the juicy gossip too,” Noel pulls a seat from a nearby empty table and drags it to my right, while Tyrell and Vincent do the same.
“Just haters bothering our little nerd,” Collette says, patting Gemma’s hand. “She’s so quiet she’s easy to pick on.”
“It wasn’t because of that,” Gemma snaps, yanking her hand away. “It was because I’m fat and ugly.”
Everyone grows uncomfortably quiet and I pick at the food on my plate, moving it around, unable to look at anyone else.
Collette breaks the long silence. “Gemma, I thought we talked about this. No negative talk. You look great the way you are.”
Gemma’s staring down at the food on her plate.
“I agree. Like I told you before, you’re beautiful Gemma.”
“How dare someone talk about my diamond like that,” Noel says in a joking tone.
“Your what?” Collette shrieks.
Gemma looks mortified as she glances away from him.
It seems like he’s not giving up on her any time soon. Jeez, I feel bad. She looks like she doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.
Brandie swoons. “That’s sooo sweet. Brett, why don’t you call me your diamond?”
“But, I like baby better.”
“That’s so basic,” she mumbles.
“But really, who was it, Gemma?” Noel asks in a firm tone.
It shocks me enough to make me glance at him immediately. All laughter is gone from his eyes as he tilts his head and observes Gemma. “I probably know them. So, tell me.”
She looks to her left at him. “I don’t know. And if I did, there’d be no reason for me to tell you.”
“My man, shot down all over again,” Vincent says with a chuckle, clapping Noel on the back.
Noel moves his shoulder, throwing his arm off. “Shut the hell up and speak for yourself.” He gets out of the chair and storms off.
“Ouch,” Emerson says, covering his mouth.
Ashlynn bursts out laughing.
Vincent glares at her clenching his fists. “Whatever. Let’s go, Ty.”
Tyrell nods as Vincent gets up, following after Noel.
“Hey,” Tyrell says, stopping near me. My eyes widen since he never approaches me. His blue eyes are a lighter shade than Callan’s, but that’s not all. Tyrell’s aren’t cold, but they’re empty. I find that more frightening. “How did Callan get suspended? He won’t tell us, but I heard from someone else that it has something to do with you. Coach is going to be furious tomorrow when he doesn’t show up for practice.”
“He did?” Collette asks. “What did you do, klutz?”
“It wasn’t my fault. Some guy trashed my art work and Callan got angry and beat the guy up.”
Tyrell nods. “He does take art seriously. What a shame our captain won’t be there though. Thanks for letting me know. Take care.” His eyes glance to the end of the table. I don’t have to look to know he’s looking at Luella.
He turns around and leaves.
“What the fuck is going on between you and Callan?” Collette asks.
I lock eyes with her. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. He fucked you didn’t he? Ugh, what’s wrong with him? He could sleep with literally anyone else!”
“No. We did not.” It sounds convincing to me. Too bad Callan practically insinuated that we did himself.
I shovel the remainder of my cold food in my mouth. I’ve had enough of this for the day. And it’s been a long day.
After saying goodbye to everyone, sans Collette, I walk outside, colliding with someone immediately turning the corner to the doors. It’s dark only in this area so it’s easy to run into someone if you aren’t paying attention.
“Oh sor–“ the girl starts, wincing.
I blurt, “It’s my bad. I was in a hurry.”
She steps forward out of the shadows and into the light outside the dining hall.
Oh I know her. She’s Kori, Jamie’s roommate.
She walks several feet around me, like I have some kind of contagious disease and she doesn’t want to catch it. “Whatever, just stay away from me.”
Since I’ve already had enough of today, I turn around quickly and catch up to her right before she goes inside. “What’s your problem with me?”
She pauses as a slow smile spreads across her face. “You kept terrible company and I want nothing to do with people like you. Satisfied?”
“Kept as in Heath?”
Her eyes sparkle cruelly. “You’re probably better off now. Consider yourself lucky you got away.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, crossing my arms.
She shrugs. “Not my job to educate you. Do your own digging.” With that, she walks through the door leaving me completely puzzled.
Just what did Heath do to her?
Maybe Callan knows.
Chapter Twelve
Callan
Thanksgiving break. I’ll finally have a fucking break next week after running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
President duties, fraternity duties, school, following leads, and not to mention being the captain of the basketball team.
Miraculously, I’m managing to pass all my classes. They aren’t the perfect grades Dad expects like Heath’s, but I think searching for my brother is worth more than my college experience. I only have one brother after all.
Juggling all this shit is
n’t easy.
When I walk into history Wednesday morning after missing the last three classes, I’m ready for another boring lecture from Professor Harper. As I make my way to my seat, I can’t help but notice the different colored folders on every student’s table in attendance.
Why do they–
Oh fuck.
I collapse in my chair and run my hand over my face, stopping at my chin.
How could I fucking forget? That long ass paper is due today and I didn’t even start it. I pushed it off, expecting I’d get to it some point later, but later came too fucking quickly.
I’m screwed. My dad is going to kill me.
I jam my fist into my forehead. Come on, think. You’re Callan Goldsworthy. You can get out of this. Come up with an excuse, any excuse.
Fraternity meeting took up a lot of time. I was setting up for the Christmas charity event. But why would she give me a pass when she knows I haven’t even shown up to class?
I rub the bridge of my nose.
My first F in college and it’s only the first semester.
I glance to my right at Wil’s empty seat. Maybe I won’t be the only one failing.
“Class will begin in one minute. Everyone start passing your folders to the front.”
The hardness of a plastic folder nudges against my back. I turn around quickly to find Red handing me a clear folder and Tall Boy handing me a green one.
I grab the both of them and pass them to the guy in front of me. I turn back around to them. “Where’s Wil?” I bark.
Red tilts her head to the left. “You hear something Peyton?”
Tall Boy taps his chin a few times and shakes his head. “No. Not a sound.”
“Oh, fuck you guys,” I snap, and turn back around in my seat.
Red snickers and Tall Boy whispers something.
“Class will now–”
Suddenly, the sound of the door opening makes Professor Harper pause.
A flash of bright blonde hair moves quickly inside and past me.
“Right on time, Ms. Karden. Please hand in your folder.”
Wil smiles broadly. “Of course, Professor.”
She bends down and picks a pink folder out, plopping it on her desk and passes it forward.
The Princess and the Bully (Goldsworthy University Book 1) Page 15
