I made it through the doors and down the hall without passing anyone I knew. Everyone was still in class. I didn’t know which one, though, or how long I’d been gone. It felt like hours.
At my locker, I stopped and leaned my forehead against the metal door, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to clear my mind of the image of Wes leaving—twice. I still had to go to the principal’s office for punching Cindy and deal with my mother when she found out.
“Tara?”
I spun around and found George standing there. “Hey, George,” I mumbled.
His curious expression clouded over with concern the second our eyes met. “Are you okay?”
Tears stung and threatened to spill over. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just …”
The look on his face tugged at me. Tears ran over onto my cheeks. George rushed forward and put his arms around me, pulling me close. “It’s okay, Tay. I’m here,” he murmured.
He didn’t ask me any more questions, just held me and let me cry. When the fabric of his shirt was soaked through, and my sniffling had somewhat subsided, I pulled away, realizing it probably wasn’t a good idea to let George have his arms around me. Standing this close, I recognized the scent of his cologne that clung to him like a second skin. It was heavy and musky and so completely George and it filled my mind with too many memories of being held by him, exactly like this.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve. “It’s been a rough day.”
“You can talk to me, Tay. You know that, right?”
Just like the other night when I’d talked to him on the phone, I thought about it. It would feel so good to unload on someone, and there was a time I’d been able to tell George anything. It was tempting. But I knew better. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotta get to the principal’s office before Mr. Knowles realizes I’m lurking in the halls.”
“Principal’s office? Why?”
“I sort of punched Cindy. In the face. Twice.”
George’s eyes widened and his brows shot up, disappearing into his sandy hair. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“Wow, Tay. That’s … impressive.” A grin tugged at the edges of his mouth. “I guess it has been a rough day.” His smile disappeared, and he suddenly looked nervous. “Is this about what happened? I mean, you’re not going to punch me, are you?”
“No, I think I’m done punching people for today,” I assured him.
“Good.”
“So, I’ll see you later,” I said.
“Yeah, you better get going,” he said. “Good luck.”
I moved to go around him but he reached out a hand to stop me. When I looked up at him, I found him eyeing my arm, with a weird expression.
“What is that on your shirt? Is that blood on your arm?”
I looked down and realized I’d completely forgotten about the scratches from Leo. My shirtsleeve was ripped open where his claws had raked my skin, revealing the raised, bloody slashes underneath. At the reminder, I realized I did feel a dull sting from the wound.
“Oh,” was all I said out loud. I was trying to figure out how to explain this when George cut in.
“Did Cindy do that to you?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I lied. “I didn’t really notice it before.”
“You should stop off at the nurse and get that checked out.”
“I will.”
“Do you want me to walk you there?”
I hesitated. His concern for me was sweet and reminiscent of the George I’d fallen for. It made me want to do whatever I could to keep this version of him around, but I didn’t really have any intention of letting the nurse see my wound—or anyone else, for that matter.
“No, I’m good,” I said. “Thanks, George.”
“Yeah, okay. Well, call me if you need anything. You know I’m here for you,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning.
I gave him a tight smile and walked away.
As soon as I was out of sight, I ducked into the bathroom and cleaned my arm as best I could. I had a change of clothes in my gym locker, but my mother would be sure to notice it and ask, so I put my hoodie on instead to cover the damage. The wound burned a little but it was more of an annoying throb than anything else. At least I could manage it on my own.
Inevitably, washing the blood away made me think of the fight—and Wes. A dull pang had developed in my chest and the more I thought of him, the sharper it got. I tried to think of something else. I couldn’t really accept that it was over. If I did, I was afraid I’d crumble into pieces, and until Leo was dealt with, I couldn’t let that happen. The people I loved were depending on me, whether they knew it or not.
Presenting myself at the principal’s office wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Probably because I wasn’t a repeat offender. The kid who went in before me was—I recognized him from a couple of classes, always slouched over in the back of the room—and Principal Sellers’ raised voice could be heard all the way into the waiting room while that kid was in there. So, when they came out and Principal Sellers gestured that it was my turn to enter, I shuffled slowly into his office, feeling like a criminal.
I took a seat in one of the hard-backed chairs in front of his desk and waited. My fingers fidgeted nervously with the shoulder strap on my bag. I stared down at a brown stain on the carpet.
Principal Sellers rounded the desk and stared at me over a mess of paper coffee cups and thick files held down by what looked like homemade paper weights. He was picking at his stubbled chin. “Miss Godfrey, I’m surprised to see you here, especially for the reason that brings you. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I suppressed a sigh. “What do you want to know?” I asked. I really just wanted to get this done and get to the really scary part—my mother.
“I want to know why you punched her,” he said.
“If I tell you, will you change your mind about calling my mother?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, then I’d rather not get into it.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s not like my reason will sound good enough to warrant hitting her. So, it doesn’t really matter why, does it? She made a stupid comment, like she always does, and I snapped.”
“That’s it?” he asked, clearly skeptical that I didn’t want to say more or try to tell my side of the story.
“That’s it,” I assured him.
He eyed me for a minute, probably waiting to see if I was really finished. But I really was. I didn’t feel like giving excuses, not to him. It wouldn’t change the situation, and it wouldn’t help fix any of my real problems. Not that punching Cindy wasn’t a real problem; I did feel bad, sort of. But when compared to Leo or my mother or Wes …
“Okay, well.” Principal Sellers cleared his throat and stood. “You mother should be here soon.” He must’ve caught my grimace because he added, “We’d already called her before you got here. You can go wait for her in the front office. You’ll be suspended from school for the next three days, which is school policy for a first offense. Mrs. Fletcher will give you the paperwork.”
I nodded and followed him back out the door.
“I do hope this is an isolated incident, Miss Godfrey,” he said as I passed by him on my way out.
“Me, too,” I mumbled.
Mrs. Fletcher, the gray-haired office assistant, handed me some official-looking papers as I passed her desk. She tried giving me a disapproving look to go with it, but I ignored her and found an empty chair to await the firestorm otherwise known as my mother.
Dirty Blood Page 38