far end, away from the street, where the school hides its dumpsters. Nobody ever goes down there on account of it’s all storage rooms, and once you step outside the door locks behind you. Basically the area’s deserted except for late-night parties. In the mornings, the janitors have to check the alcove for needles, condoms and smashed beer bottles.
He kicks the door open and pushes me outside. “Okay, bitch, you got something to tell me?”
I try to stall. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play games,” he snarls. He bounces me off the wall. “What did you tell her?”
“Who?”
He makes a fist. “Barker. Don’t play games.”
“She called me in for skipping.” I stumble backward towards the dumpsters.
“This is your last chance, bitch. What’d you tell her?” He grabs an old chunk of paving stone.
“No. Stop!” I trip. I scrape my hand on the gravel. I try crawling away on my right arm, shielding my head with my left. “Ms. James read my journal.”
“What journal?”
“The one I’ve been doing in English.”
“You wrote about me?”
“It wasn’t supposed to get read.”
“Answer the question.” He squeezes the stone.
“Yes.”
“Bitch!” He whips it over my head. It clangs off the dumpster.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Jason rages towards me, his face all twisted. Oh god, help! I scrunch into a ball. He jumps on top, yanks my arms down, pins me.
“Get off me. Ow!”
“What did you write?”
“Just stuff.”
“What stuff?” He knees my ribs.
“Leave me alone!”
“What stuff?”
“Nothing. Just stupid stuff.”
He’s right in my face now, talking hot and low. He’s sweating like mad. “Well, that’s real interesting. Because I had a talk with Barker too.”
“What?”
“She called me in. Said there’d been a complaint. No names, but we all know who, don’t we?”
“I didn’t complain.”
“Said I better be careful how I treat ‘young women,’ how I wouldn’t want to get misinterpreted. What’d she mean by that?” He squeezes his knee in my gut.
“I don’t know. Ow. You’re crushing me. Someone’s gonna see us.”
“Big deal. You fell. I’m helping you up.” He jerks me to my feet. “Last chance. What’d you write?”
Suddenly I don’t care what happens. “I wrote what you do to me.”
For a second, Jason goes calm. He chuckles, shakes his head and turns away. Then, before I know what hit me, he hauls off and smashes my shoulder. I crash back against the dumpster, crack my head, slide down into a heap.
“Where’s your journal now?”
“In Barker’s office,” I lie.
“Get it back. I want it burned.”
“I can’t.”
He boots the dumpster, to the right of my face.
Words spill out of my mouth. “I hate you! You’re a pig! A pig! You’re just like Katie said!”
“And you’re a ho. A cum rag.” He boots the dumpster again, closer.
“Go ahead. Kick me in the head. Kick me where people will see the bruise. Smash my face. Break my jaw. Why don’t you, coward?” I can hardly believe what I’m saying. “You and me, we’re finished.”
“Oh, yeah? We’re finished when I say we’re finished.”
“No. We’re finished when I say. And I say now. It’s over. O.V.E.R.”
I expect him to go crazy, but instead he laughs. “Hey, the bitch can spell. I wonder if she can spell ‘Sex Pix.’”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the sex shots I took that first night when you were passed out. I think your mother’d like to see the kind of slut she raised. Flexible. I’m surprised you didn’t make cheerleader.”
“Hah!” My cheeks burn. “I checked your cell. There was just a stupid video of me dancing.”
“On the phone, right. I saved the hot stuff to the memory card. I was upstairs hiding it when you came to. You think I want anyone finding out about my hobby?” He leans in, grinning. “Whenever I want, you’re up on the Net, bitch. A spread-eagled porn star.”
“You’re
He kicks the door open and pushes me outside. “Okay, bitch, you got something to tell me?”
I try to stall. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play games,” he snarls. He bounces me off the wall. “What did you tell her?”
“Who?”
He makes a fist. “Barker. Don’t play games.”
“She called me in for skipping.” I stumble backward towards the dumpsters.
“This is your last chance, bitch. What’d you tell her?” He grabs an old chunk of paving stone.
“No. Stop!” I trip. I scrape my hand on the gravel. I try crawling away on my right arm, shielding my head with my left. “Ms. James read my journal.”
“What journal?”
“The one I’ve been doing in English.”
“You wrote about me?”
“It wasn’t supposed to get read.”
“Answer the question.” He squeezes the stone.
“Yes.”
“Bitch!” He whips it over my head. It clangs off the dumpster.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Jason rages towards me, his face all twisted. Oh god, help! I scrunch into a ball. He jumps on top, yanks my arms down, pins me.
“Get off me. Ow!”
“What did you write?”
“Just stuff.”
“What stuff?” He knees my ribs.
“Leave me alone!”
“What stuff?”
“Nothing. Just stupid stuff.”
He’s right in my face now, talking hot and low. He’s sweating like mad. “Well, that’s real interesting. Because I had a talk with Barker too.”
“What?”
“She called me in. Said there’d been a complaint. No names, but we all know who, don’t we?”
“I didn’t complain.”
“Said I better be careful how I treat ‘young women,’ how I wouldn’t want to get misinterpreted. What’d she mean by that?” He squeezes his knee in my gut.
“I don’t know. Ow. You’re crushing me. Someone’s gonna see us.”
“Big deal. You fell. I’m helping you up.” He jerks me to my feet. “Last chance. What’d you write?”
Suddenly I don’t care what happens. “I wrote what you do to me.”
For a second, Jason goes calm. He chuckles, shakes his head and turns away. Then, before I know what hit me, he hauls off and smashes my shoulder. I crash back against the dumpster, crack my head, slide down into a heap.
“Where’s your journal now?”
“In Barker’s office,” I lie.
“Get it back. I want it burned.”
“I can’t.”
He boots the dumpster, to the right of my face.
Words spill out of my mouth. “I hate you! You’re a pig! A pig! You’re just like Katie said!”
“And you’re a ho. A cum rag.” He boots the dumpster again, closer.
“Go ahead. Kick me in the head. Kick me where people will see the bruise. Smash my face. Break my jaw. Why don’t you, coward?” I can hardly believe what I’m saying. “You and me, we’re finished.”
“Oh, yeah? We’re finished when I say we’re finished.”
“No. We’re finished when I say. And I say now. It’s over. O.V.E.R.”
I expect him to go crazy, but instead he laughs. “Hey, the bitch can spell. I wonder if she can spell ‘Sex Pix.’”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the sex shots I took that first night when you were passed out. I think your mother’d like to see the kind of slut she raised. Flexible. I’m surprised you didn’t make cheerleader.”
“Hah!” My cheeks burn. “I checked your cell. There was just a stupid video of me dancing.”
“On the phone, right. I saved the hot stuff to the memory card. I was upstairs hiding it when you came to. You think I want anyone finding out about my hobby?” He leans in, grinning. “Whenever I want, you’re up on the Net, bitch. A spread-eagled porn star.”
“You’re
Similar Books
