Forbidden

Cornered

Van

The window protested as Van forced it open. By the looks of it, someone had painted it shut long ago and forgotten about it. She knew how that felt- to be ignored for so long that it was easier to remain closed off than to bother opening up again.

Van pulled on the cigarette, ignoring the tickle in the back of her throat. Coughing right now would ruin her plans. She wasn't polluting her lungs just for kicks and giggles. Blue smoke billowed out of her mouth into the girl's bathroom. The late autumn breeze pushed inside and helped spread the smell. Perfect.

Flicking ash onto the floor, she stretched her long legs across the counter and closed her eyes. Sleep wasn't something that came easy these days. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She could sleep at her desk, on countertops, at the wheel of her car. Just not in that bed, in that house, with that man nearby.

"Are you trying to burn the school down or just yourself?" Van sat straight up, hissing as pain flared across her thigh. Livy Brooks snatched the cigarette from where it had fallen and stubbed it out on the sink. "Can't you pick a different form of rebellion?"

"Excuse me?" Van huffed. "You owe me a smoke." Anger burned hot in her stomach- hotter than the cigarette embers that had seared through her jeans. Stupid girl had messed up her plan.

"And you owe me your life."

"Bit dramatic don't you think?"

The petite brunette didn't reply immediately. She soaped up her hands and stuck them beneath the faucet to engage the sensors. Warm water rushed out and soap bubbles swirled down the drain. Along with the cigarette butt. Bouncing her fingers to dislodge extra liquid, Livy arched a manicured brow at Van who grumbled in response but handed her a paper towel anyways.

"Are you done? Do you always wash your hands before you pee?"

Livy's pert nose scrunched up. "You're crude."

"And you act like a 1950s housewife."

"I washed my hands because I'm sensitive to tobacco products. It can cause a rash. It's one of many reasons I don't smoke. I smelled the smoke from my classroom and came to investigate."

Van crossed her legs and leaned forward. Strands of her long, harshly dyed violet hair fell into her eyes. "That's not possible. I know you have Mr. Jones for third period, and his class is two hallways over."

"As I explained, I'm rather sensitive to the stuff." Her words were nonchalant, but her shoulders had become stiff. She folded her hands in front of her as she peered around the room. Scarred green stalls and matching tile. Chipped white sinks. Worn but clean. A typical bathroom for a high school this old. But even in this poorly lit room, Livy looked like a queen.

"Don't you have a class to get back to?"

"I'm finished with the project we were working on."

"And you'd like to hang out in the bathroom?"

"Were you trying to get caught?"

Damn, the girl was observant. "Who tries to get caught smoking?"

Livy chewed on the end of her nail, a strange habit for a girl so put together. "Well, you've taken the effort to open the window, something which is rather impressive. Pretty sure those paint chips on the ledge are from thirty years ago. But, you were blowing smoke directly into the bathroom and not out the window, defeating the purpose of opening it. Also, you've seated yourself in clear view of anyone who walks in."

"Do you want a cookie?"

Her head turned to the side as if she were a confused puppy. "Do you have any cookies?"

Van cursed as she slid off the counter. She'd have to try again tomorrow. This had been a weak plan anyway. No one got expelled for smoking in the bathroom. Suspension maybe, but not expelled. Not on the first go around. She just had to find something that would get her kicked to the curb without earning jail time.

"You know, you don't get to corner the market on being sad and angry," Livy said.

"What?" The word bounced through the room, outrage fueling the single syllable. She stalked toward the Stepford teen, every step punctuated by the thud of her combat boots against the tile. Fingers tightened around the straps of her bag, and a strangled growl filled her throat.

"You're not the only one who's lost someone before," Livy continued, her tone sweet and calm. "My dad died two years ago." Van didn't want this girl's story. She didn't want to feel for someone else, but the parts of her heart that weren't cracked trembled. "You won't bring anyone back with rage."

"My story is not yours," she snarled. "You think you know me because we go to the same school? You think our pain is equal because you've heard rumors. You know nothing."

"Then tell me."

"Stay away from me Livy. Don't get in my way again."

Van jerked the door open just as the bell rang. She made it two steps before smashing her face into the chiseled chest of every junior girl's fantasy. Rubbing her face, she stepped back and looked up into concerned cinnamon eyes.

"What's the hurry Van? And why do you smell like an ashtray?"

"Damn it. You effing Brooks can't keep your overpowered noses out people's business, can you?"

"Hey," he continued, wrapping strong fingers around her arm. His grip was tight but not bruising. And felt far too good. "You okay?"

"Luca, let her go." Livy walked up behind her. "She's not in the mood to listen to anyone."

"For once your cousin speaks sense," Van said, wrenching out of his hands and slamming her shoulder into his as she passed. It was like striking concrete, but the hurt made her feel alive. The fact Luca had to feel pain for that to happen sparked a twinge of shame in her chest, yet she didn't stop to apologize.

"Vanessa."

"Principal Logan," she said, a real smile spreading across her face as she greeted the frowning adult before her.

"My office. Now."

"Absolutely." Maybe Livy hadn't ruined everything after all, Van thought as she followed the man to his office. She sneaked a look over her shoulder to find the Livy and Luca watching her with a strange intensity. A sadness, too. But she shrugged it off. Maybe by tomorrow it wouldn't matter.