Big Girl Boots

Thirty-Five

I definitely haven't proofread this yet and I should be studying for finals but I've been itching to write, so here you go!

***

Monday morning dawned surprisingly bright, making the white hills sparkle almost obnoxiously for the first time in nearly a week. The sun, while annoyingly blinding, gave me at least some hope for the day. As per Mama Callie's orders, it was to be Coda's first day back and school and my first day back to have the injury and suspension talked about.

As much as my swollen hand was bothering me, I hoped it at least took most of the focus off of Coda. She hated being the center of attention probably more than anything else in the world.

I carefully pulled up on the cement pad in front of the school next to Kellan's pickup and eased my ranger into park, sending an uneasy glance towards his window. Coda had understandably opted to ride in with him instead of me, but I was a little bit nervous to find out how she was holding up. Things around the house had been tense, not just between her and I. From what little I knew, I got that she was pissed at Kellan for siding with me over her. As much as I adored that girl, my only answer to that would be too damn bad, get over it. I'd seen her wallow in her self-pity for way too long and was long since ready to see her put on her big girl boots and show life what she was made of.

We made our way in silence out of the bright, snowy morning and into the musty brick building of the school. My suspension had only lasted two days, but it felt like I'd been out of classes for an eternity.

As predicted, all of the underclassmen quieted down when we walked through the doors, me clutching my sore hand in an effort to cover the stitches but holding my head high, Coda staring at her wet boots and basically hiding behind Kellan, and my poor cousin trying to make it look like he wasn't half dragging the little blonde down the halls. None of them bothered to make a snide comment until we were halfway up the stairs to our customary hang-out spot in the landing with the huge window.

Over the last few days I'd all but forgotten about Dustie and Wayne with everything going on and was almost surprised to find them standing quietly already. Each kid was bundled in a huge Carhartt coat and had clunky snow boots weighing down their likely frozen feet.

"Mornin'," I called, shooting them a half grin. Dustie pushed off the railing and greeted me with a nod and lift of her portable coffee cup in my direction.

"Hi."

I settled in next to her and stuffed the blue, black, and white spin 'em hat I'd been wearing into my backpack. It was my favorite and I'd be damned if I got it taken away on my first day back after suspension. From the multiple glances I got while walking down the halls I knew the staff would be keeping an even closer eye on me now, which was doing a pretty good job dampening my good mood.

"So," Dustie drawled, taking a long swig of coffee, "you gonna tell me why you ditched me last week? Or should I just believe all the bullshit people are saying?"

Oh, shit. She's mad.

Everything had happened with such speed that I'd had no chance to explain myself to Dustie, or even Kellan, really. Even though I could feel my heart start pumping harder with the fear that I might very well lose a friend, I grinned in her direction. "What have you heard?"

"I heard you flipped shit and knocked out a sophomore over a joke she made because you were PMSing and got yourself suspended."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I felt my eyebrows draw together and my lips purse into a thin line. Now I was mad.

Dustie shook her head a single time, eyes as cold as the snow outside. "That's the story I've been told. Nobody else bothered to tell me directly."

"Shit" I ran a hand over my face, which turned out to be my injured one. It hurt. "Dustie, I'm sorry."

"What happened to your hand?" She reached over to gingerly grab my fingers for a better look. Not only was it swollen around the stitches, but I had a gnarly purple and black bruise over the whole thing.

I licked my lips and stared at the floor. "Well, I did get in a fight, but it wasn't over a joke and I definitely wasn't PMSing."

"Okay, then tell me." Her words were direct, as usual. I could feel Coda's eyes on me, too, even though she kept her head down and stayed folded into herself like the wounded puppy she was.

"I was just sitting in art class when the sophomore with the pink hair said something rude about me. I was gonna let it slide until she started talking about people killing themselves like it was no big thing and I kinda lost it. I didn't punch her, though, only knocked her on her ass."

Dustie nodded. "And your hand?"

"I guess I caught it on the desk when I went to shove her." Out of the corner of my eye I watched Coda's sad blue ones travel down my arm to stare at the carefully stitched injury, absorbing my story in silence. Then, for the first time in weeks, she spoke to me.

"It was about me, wasn't it? What she was saying about killing herself?" I watched her sharp little chin lift in contempt. Her lower lip trembled but she was able to hold herself together to shoot me a look that could about cut somebody in half.

I sucked in a breath and dropped my gaze, realizing we'd just switched positions. My only choice was to be totally honest with her. "Yeah, kind of. It started out being about me and then she turned it to you." Only half of that was completely true but I wasn't about to tell her that.

Coda's eyes darkened to a steely gray, but for some reason I felt like her anger wasn't directed at me for once. "So you were sticking up for yourself?"
"Something like that."

"Good. You stick up for you and I'll stick up for me." The bell rang right at that moment and she took off towards class with the same determined look still in place, leaving me standing on the landing to nearly get run over by teenagers in my state of shock.

"Shit," Dustie muttered, shouldering her backpack and leaving me as well.

Quite honestly, I had not idea what just happened.

For months now Coda had been the shy, injured girl who had zero ability to stick up for herself of anyone else and I had taken on the job of protecting her, along with Kellan and Wyatt. Now, here she was telling me to let her take the blows on her own. I wondered if she really could handle it.

Most of the crowd has dispersed by the time I actually started up the last flight of stairs. Thankfully, I knew I still had a few minutes so there was no reason to rush in an effort to not be late.

A second surprise appeared in the form of a very red, out-of-breath, and generally harried looking Torrin Paxton. His straw-like hair was flying in all directions and only a few of the buttons on his plaid shirt were actually secured. The boy looked to be in a massive hurry and I certainly didn't expect him to stop, especially not for me. But, much to my amazement, he did.

"Hey, Blake." He breathed, shooting a glance at my hand, just like everyone else had. "How's the stitches feeling?"

I shrugged. "Good enough."

"Oh, glad to hear it. Are you ready for the week?"

I shook my head vehemently, wondering why he was taking the time out of his busy day to make small talk with me in the hallway. At the rate we were going, I actually was going to be late to class.

"That sucks. I feel the same way, though." He flashed me a grin, showing off his one dimple. "Where's your first class?"
I motioned down to the end of the now empty hallway. "It's English."

"Cool, I'll walk you there. If you're late, I'll just say we were talking about student council stuff."

Somehow I hadn't known that Torrin Paxton was on student council, not that it really surprised me. He was Mr. Popular and best friend of the president himself.

"Good enough for me." I gave him a small smile and followed when he turned on his heel to escort me to English.

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.