Saving Scout O'Brian (REMASTERED)

Six

Evelyn

There weren't a lot of things that I have done in my short twenty-six years of life, that I am particularly ashamed of.

But lusting after my 19 year old enigma of a student, was definitely one of them.

I shifted through the paperwork on my desk, my glasses perched on my nose and the cap of a pen in my mouth. My eyes kept drifting to her file, the stack of papers inside it so thick, I could barely wrap my hands around it. My lips formed a tight line at the life the multiple schools, foster parents, and brutality it described. I had been a foster-kid myself, though my time in the system had been nothing like Scout's. She hadn't been wrong, I was younger than most were when they acquired this position. It hadn't been my endgame, but it was a way out of the darkness I had lived in for way too long.

The thin, ropy scars decorating the right side of my head ached, and I resisted the urge to run my fingers over their meticulously carved edges. I loosed a sigh, biting on the pen cap as I wondered what to do with this girl, my mind adrift when Dorothy, my secretary, knocked on my office door.

"Come in." I muttered, bracing myself. Dorothy entered with a worried look on her face, and a sheen of sweat across her wide forehead, her blouse slightly askew like she'd ran here. I frowned and stood, smoothing my pencil skirt and blouse, bracing my fingers on the edge of the desk.

"There's a fight, in east wing."

I pinched my nose. "Who?"

"The new girl, and Scott Brooks. He made a comment about her having a daughter and well, she didn't like it."

My heels clicked as I hurried out of the office and down the hall, dodging students and staff members who hurried towards the commotion with me. I could hear it from here, feel the strain of violence in the air. Shouts and the smack of flesh meeting flesh greeted me as I rounded the corner to the east wing, my eyes widening at the scene. A crowd of students wrapped around them, a mixture of excitement and horror on their faces. I couldn't exactly blame them, my eyes riveted on this wild beauty of a woman as she hauled Mr. Brooks up with both hands on his collar, her face a mask of wild fury.

Her red lips peeled back in a vicious snarl, revealing sharp canines and white teeth, her mass of brown-black hair in curls around her head. She vibrated with graceful hostility, her knuckles split, blood across a bent locker like she'd aimed a punch that he'd thankfully dodged. I shoved through the crowd as her bloody fist raised to deliver a second punch that most likely wouldn't miss, Scott's eyes widening with shock and fear.

"Scout!" I snapped, my voice loud and thrumming with authority. The crowd went silent, except for a few muffled "oh shits."

I had always believed that names held power, like the fae, who never released their true names because they had the power to control them. And it worked just like that. The snap of her name in my mouth wrapped around her like I'd caught her in a lasso, sending her staggering back from Mr. Brooks and whirling towards me, her chest heaving and her hands fisted at her sides. It sobered me to know I had such power over her. Her teeth still bared in an animalistic snarl, blood dripped down her chin from a split lip, plopping on her oversized sweater, and a flash of rage went through me at the knowledge that he'd hit her back. Her long legs were spread in a fighting stance, her booted feet steady on the linoleum floor. She looked untamable, the kind of wild that would lead me to believe that someone had tried hard to put her down one too many times in life. I didn't look away from her as I not-so-nicely told everyone to get their asses back to class or there would be consequences.