Bully // l.h. // Book 1 of Bully Series

8. Comebacks

As soon as I woke up this morning, I decided I was no longer going to put up with Luke's shit. I had been texting Ashton all night last night, and he told me that I should stop letting Luke get away with doing what he was doing. I told him I'd take care of it. I also told him not to ruin his friendship with Luke over this. As much as I did not like the dumb blond haired, blue eyed boy, I knew how much Ashton loved his band, and being the cause of their break up would make me feel awful.

I'd also taken a bit of time yesterday to read a few more entries in Kylee's journal. I'd determined a few things about her—she was in sixth grade when she started the journal, she had a bit of a crush on a kid in her math class, but didn't want to write his name because she suspected her brother was reading her journal, and that she was really resentful about her family's move to Sydney. The two of us had that in common. She wasn't a very regular writer, and at first I was a bit confused. Only three entries in, she was already in the middle of eighth grade.

Math. I could do this. I knew Luke was in this class, as well as both Megan and Calum. The latter two were not a problem. I made sure I was the last person to walk into the classroom, save for our teacher. He was always late anyways. This made it so I at least didn't have to endure Luke's insults for too long. However, I forgot to think about the fact that the last time I was in this classroom, I called Luke out and announced that my mom had left me. In front of the entire class.

So, naturally, when I entered the classroom, all conversation stopped. Luke was facing away from me, but when everyone stopped speaking, he turned around. When his gaze landed on me, a smirk formed on his lips and he crossed his arms.

"Are you late because you're avoiding me, or is it because you no longer have mummy to drive you to school?" He taunted. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Clearly his little spat with Ashton last Saturday had absolutely no effect on him. I shrugged nonchalantly as I walked over to my seat and set my backpack down.

"No, I'm late because I had to wait for your mom to pick me up. Turns out she'd rather drive me to school than her absolute dick of a son." I retorted simply. A few 'ooh' s and quiet whispers filtered through the room after I spoke. I didn't have to look at Luke to know he was probably pissed. He didn't get a chance to reply to me, though, because Mr. Gregory chose that particular moment to swoop into the room, exclaiming something about polynomials and our books.

I wasn't bothered by Luke for the rest of the day (if you don't count the glowering, upset looks he constantly sent my way). Not even when Mr. Page had to explain to me what exactly would be going down this Thursday and Friday, when twelve students would be asked to perform for the class. Apparently, everyone's name was put into a hat, and the more you got in trouble with Mr. Page, the more times your name was put into the hat. I figured Luke's name was in there a bunch of times, but he probably didn't care. Mr. Page also mentioned that you're allowed to save someone by volunteering to perform in their place. He told me not to worry, because usually most of the spots were claimed by volunteers. Though, I had a feeling nobody would want to take my place for fear of upsetting Luke.

Luke didn't even bother me on the bus, which I found strange, but refreshing. I figured I'd probably just shocked him for the time being. He would probably be back at it again tomorrow when he thought of how he would respond to my comeback.

However, just because I didn't really have to deal with Luke today didn't mean that I didn't have other problems to handle. Like the fact that my dad was home when I got home again, for instance. He was passed out on the couch, the television playing in the background. I sighed, looking at him. He didn't work on Mondays, but that didn't mean he couldn't help out around the house a bit instead of drink his life away.

I knew I'd be safe to clean up a bit even though he was on the couch. I'd discovered that once he passed out, he wasn't likely to wake up for quite a while. I'd probably hear him stumble up to his bedroom at around 8 or 9 tonight. After throwing quite a few empty beer bottles in the recycling, I ran a load of dishes and wiped down the counters in the kitchen. I also started a load of my dad's laundry, knowing he'd need work clothes for the rest of the week.