Permanent Scars

Enemies and Allies

September 6, Wednesday. 1:34 p.m.

Something slams against my locker door, nearly trapping my head inside. Annoyed and terrified, I push against the door and peer up.

   Tate.

   "Oh, is Baby Blue-Eyes scared? Where's your caretaker today?"

   "Leave me alone, Tate." It comes out in a choked whisper and I'm instantly ashamed of myself. When will I learn to make my voice come out strong? When will I learn that standing up to bullies never did me any good?

He snickers mockingly, leaning his right shoulder against my locker door. I push all my weight against it to keep it from snapping shut on me.

"Listen up Pipsqueak, I'll have you know that you're not allowed to speak to me in that way. We have rules about this sort of thing, and it's time you learned your place."

"My place?" The words squeak out.

He glares. "Duh. Your place in the food chain."

Something tells me I'm the lowest of the low, so despite my mind screaming at me to challenge him to an argument, I nod meekly.

"You're nodding, but you've got your damn fingers crossed behind your back, don't you Princess?" He sneers, and it's one of the ugliest things I've ever seen. I can't believe anyone would find this guy attractive.

"No."

"I don't believe you." He lunges forward, swinging the door farther open than it's designed to go. He grabs my right arm, turns me around so forcefully I fall against the open locker.

Ow. Don't say it. Don't say it—

"That hurt!" I whine, angry tears bubbling up.

"Oh, did it? I'm so sorry. It could hurt a lot worse, you know. I could really give you something to cry about."

"Please don't."

"Seems I've got an invitation."

Now he thinks you want him to keep going! You should have kept silent, idiot.

"There's no party. And no one could pay me to invite you."

Stepping forward, his right foot supporting most of his weight, he sets it over my feet. "I'd be quiet if I were you. And don't you dare threaten to tell your Daddy, everyone knows he won't save you anyway."

"Leave him out of this," I whimper, clenching my teeth against the pain in my feet. "And get off me."

"Last I checked, lowlifes have no right to tell those at the top of the chain what to do."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wish Adam would suddenly appear. But he won't. He's absent again. Despite his claims that having me there made him feel better, yesterday left him in a mess, and he's probably trying to pull it all together so he's decent enough to make public appearance. I was planning on visiting him at the music store, but after yesterday it's safe to assume he won't be working either. Dylan is worried that Adam won't be better by Friday, says it could screw up their whole tradition. He won't give me details about Friday, but says I'd better be there. Says it would mean the world to Adam. I'm thinking about it, but I'm not sure I'll be able to stay long since I can't be out too late.

Adam would want me to defend myself, I'm sure. He says I'm strong. Daddy would want me to stand my ground, too.

I don't think anyone really knows what it's like, what I have to go through.