“You heard me.” Jordan moved forward a step. “Take that back.”

All eyes came to me, and I would’ve liked to feel some triumph at the fear in our teacher’s eyes, but I didn’t. He looked at my face now, and a shadow crossed over his, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t take back his words or the way they were delivered.

I rocked in place, but I kept by my desk. “You disrespected me.”

“Look—”

“Do it again,” Jordan growled. “Disrespect her one more time.”

Beads of sweat formed on our teacher’s forehead.

“I’m not—”

Jordan moved in a flash, but so did I.

Jordan went for the teacher, and I went for him.

“Stop it.” I shoved him back.

We couldn’t touch a teacher. Everything would be at risk then. Not just us, or me, but everything. The whole crew system.

There were gasps behind us. Some guy said, “Holy shit.” But other than that, silence.

A guy from the back row ran from the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and Jordan and I shared a look. We only had a few moments before school security would be here.

I turned around, slowly, to face Mr. Jenston.

He was scared. I understood, and a part of me—the part that wanted to be a good student, a good kid—ached at that. I never wanted a teacher to fear me, but I was not normal. I never could be.

Maybe one day they’d know why, but I hoped not.

“You know my name. You know my family,” I said quietly. “And yet you still talk to me like that.” I paused, making sure his eyes were on mine. I felt my knife against my skin. It was there to calm me, and a part of me wanted to pull it out. I didn’t dare. This teacher wouldn’t understand how it was my security blanket.

I spoke even more quietly, so only Mr. Jenston and Jordan could hear. “You dismissed me from this class, and you never once looked at me.” I pointed to my face. “This is why I was gone. You treated me just now like I’m invisible, like I’m not worth a second look, or even a first look. My absence was excused, and I did nothing this morning except come to school. And when I got here, you attacked me. That’s how we view it. When you talk to us like that, you attack us.”

“That’s no—that’s not…”

He couldn’t talk. His eyes cut to Jordan’s, and Jordan stepped back. I felt him.

Mr. Jenston’s head lowered. He pointed to the camera in the corner. “That’s not going to show what just happened here, not accurately.”

Dread traced up my spine.

“Look.” Mr. Jenston coughed, tugging at his collar. He looked in pain, or humiliated. I was going with humiliation. Or so I hoped.

“I can speak up for you, but it will look like you’re threatening me. They won’t believe me. They’ll enforce further action against you both, but mostly against you, Bren.” The corners of his mouth softened. “They’ll blame you, so the best way to stop anything else from happening is to get that video.”

“What do we do?” Jordan asked over my shoulder.

We ran out of the classroom as Cross ran in.

We almost crashed. The guy who’d dashed from the room was right behind him.

Jordan’s jaw went slack. “Thought you narced.”

The guy shook his head, but ducked around us and went back into the room.

“What happened?” Cross stepped between us, grabbing my hand. “Roy said you might need help.”

“We had a situation. It looks bad on the security tapes.”

Cross let go. “Got it. Go.” He nodded after Jordan, who was already down the hall.

“What are you going to do?”

“You tell him,” Jordan said to me. “I’m going to start.”

“We gotta get that tape before they see it,” I explained. Cross settled next to me and moved to catch Jordan.

“What are you saying?” I could hear the secretary, Mrs. Cooke, asking as we opened the door to the office.

The security cameras were kept in a locked cupboard near her desk. No one was paid to watch them while they were rolling, so chances were good that no one would see the incident until they were notified of it. If it came down to us versus the teacher, the school would ask the other students in the classroom what had happened. They’d likely side with us. Most did. Narcs were pieces of shit. It was a universal rule.

Race sat in one seat in the office. Two other students sat across from him, a few seats down.

“I’m telling you, Marjorie,” Jordan said, nodding seriously. “Call the security staff. There was a fight in one of the PE classes. I heard it myself.”

“What?” She reached for her keys, fumbling through them and wheeling her chair over to the security cameras.

“You don’t have time! Get the security staff.” Jordan pointed down the hallway. “You know they’re back there, taking their morning break. Go get them, Miss Marjorie. Get them! They need help.”

Cross and I shared a look, holding back grins.

Marjorie Cooke was Mrs. Marjorie Cooke, but since his first day freshman year, Jordan had always called her Miss Marjorie. She melted every time.

Well,” she said under her breath, patting her hair. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip, palming the keys.

“Fine.” Jordan leaned back, stepping away from the desk, and shrugged. “But it’s on you. Who knows who the Ryerson crew is beating up.”

“Ryerson crew?!” She shot to her feet. “This is crew-related?”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

She went past me, and I stepped into her. My fingers grazed hers.

She started to snap at me, but when she saw who I was, she gave me a distracted smile. “Oh, Bren, honey. You don’t look so good.” Then she straightened her shirt, smoothing her collar.

“Go, Miss Marjorie!”

She gave Jordan a look before hurrying down the hallway. “You should’ve said this was crew-related from the beginning.”

And as she hurried to the break room, I scurried behind her desk, holding her keys.

Jordan smirked down at me, folding his arms.

I found the right key and unlocked the cabinet as Jordan and Cross moved so they were blocking the view of Mrs. Cooke’s desk, yet still standing casually, as if they were waiting for her to come back.

“Hurry,” Jordan said.

I rewound the tape, effectively deleting our altercation. It would start recording again where I let it go, but we wouldn’t be in it. After I was done, I stood up, satisfied.

“It’s not totally erased.”

Jordan and I looked over at Race. He had leaned forward, a set look on his face.

“You’re helping again?” I asked.

Race looked between us before letting out some air and standing up. “Move back.”

I did, and he came around the desk.

Race hit a bunch of buttons, ones I hadn’t known were there, and a couple seconds later, all of the screens went blue. He backed up, closing the cupboard and relocking it. “You have to erase everything, otherwise there’s a memory storage thing. It’s gone now.”

Jordan gave him a nod. “Thank you.” He motioned to Cross and me. “Let’s go.”

“Coming.” I started out behind him, but turned back.

Cross was right behind me, and we both looked back at Race.

He’d dropped the keys back on the desk and returned to his chair. His gaze flicked up to us, and this time, I felt like I saw the real guy in there. There was sadness.

He sat alone in that chair, and it seemed a metaphor for his life. He was alone.

Cross must’ve thought the same because he dipped his head in a nod. “Thanks, man.”

Race dipped his head down, giving us a wave. “See you guys later.”

Cross nodded back in acknowledgement, and we stepped out of the office just as a woman came in—Race’s mom. I recognized her right away. She had his same round face, the same pinched nose, and eyes a little too close. But I saw her sadness too.

She went in behind us, and we heard her say, “Race, honey.”

“Hey, Mom.”

Cross touched my back, a silent urge to keep going.

The security guys would go to the fields. They’d find no one, figure it was nothing, and return to their break. No one would think anything. No one would say a word.