Gilded Cage

Chapter 8

Was this bastard trying to threaten me?

Aw, hell no!

My nostrils flared. "Come at me then, asshole! You think I'm fucking scared of you?"

He clenched his jaw. "I swear to God, one of these days you're going to fall so hard from that fucking pedestal you live on, and, when that happens, I'm gonna the first in line to—"

"To do what, Zac?" Mr. Tilton inquired mildly. He returned just in time to find the two of us snarling ferociously at each other. He cleared his throat. "What did I miss? Nevermind, I don't want to know. Back to your seats, you two."

The last ten minutes of detention felt like eternity. Zac and I refused to make eye contact. Yet, as the seconds ticked by, the seething fire inside me gradually died down to a smoldering ember. I found myself reflecting on what Zac said to me. About what Evonne shared with me about his family's fall from grace. Up until seventh grade, his dad had provided everything for Zac and his mom. Then, it was all stripped away when the scandal broke.

In an eerily prophetic way, Zac already lived out my worst nightmare and, against many odds, managed to claw his way back from the hellish experience as a completely different kid. Much stronger than before. I didn't know what my dad planned to do once I turned eighteen. Although, I doubted that he would fight for me or continue to support me in any way. Financially or otherwise. The man was barely involved in my life right now. I'd need to stand on my own two feet just like Zac and his mom.

After Mr. Tilton dismissed us from detention, I watched Zac walk off while I packed up my belongings. Zac was right about one thing. Trick wasn't the only bully at Ashton Wellesley. Many of our classmates had also been assholes to him. I wondered what Zac planned to do to get back at them. Naturally, there was no way I'd let him raise too much hell and jeopardize my Stanford apps. But, I had to admit, I was beginning to feel a begrudging respect for my nemesis. He was a fighter. Like me.

***

As luck would have it, I caught a cold two days later, and, though I was running a fever, I refused to stay home with Trick since I had an important quiz in Pre-Calc that day. My decision to drag my sick ass to school was a mistake. By second hour, I felt like death in a gray hoodie.

Zac glanced over to me. "You look like shit."

He was probably correct. My nose felt clogged up, my head weighed about fifty pounds heavier from the meds. All I wanted to do was crawl onto the floor and pass out.

Weakly, I croaked, "Not today, Mazur. Please."

"Are you sick?"

I sneezed.

"Dude, why are you even at school?"

"Don't worry." I sniffled. "I'll try not to cough on you."

I started shivering.

Why was the AC on in the middle of October?

Mr. Tilton's room was fucking freezing.

Zac noticed. To my surprise, he took off his blazer jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I turned towards him with a look of confusion. "What are you doing?"

"You looked cold."

Too groggy to argue, I decided to accept his unexpected act of charity as though we were friends. "Thank you."

He shrugged and looked away.

Halfway through class, I accidentally dozed off for a minute or two. Or maybe it was ten.

The sound of Mr. Tilton's droning voice woke me up. "—working on this project for the rest of the month. Any questions?"

I blinked once. Twice.