CECE, DISRESPECTFULLY | rewriting

23: TEENAGE GUIDE TO POPULARITY

            I leave earlier than I would have to, mostly to get rid of Nicolás—to get Nicolás rid of me. I've pulled my hair into a bun and hid it under a beanie to deal with later.

Temperatures have dropped again and my breaths float out as sullen spectres. The sun, a rotten fruit at the horizon, bashed open for gnats, watched from the school roof.

Eyes stitch to me as soon as I'm at a recognisable distance. More attach the closer I get. Even parents in their cars turn to look. I sulk through the gates, fidgeting with the matchbox in my pocket, and fight the urge to get high.

Someone shoves me from behind and I stumble. Saadia throws me a glare over her shoulder as she strides toward the front doors. 'Thanks for nearly killing all of us, you freak!'

Milli's glance is one of terror. 'How is he even allowed back here? They should be in prison. For arson.'

Well, there goes any hope of people not finding out.

If they weren't all looking already, they certainly are now. My feet freeze onto the paving stones as the school forecourt stretches and stretches, the doors get further and further away.

'Psycho!' someone yells. A glob of sleet splats on the side of my head. The slush gets in my ear and my body convulses.

Lovely. Just fucking perfect. Deathtobeewolf is a subject of interest and now I am too. Won't take long for people to connect the dots.

I'm wiping my face with my sleeve when Sakda emerges from the smoking hall with Adio and smirks. I'd've thought he'd be disappointed that I didn't get expelled but maybe seeing me become subject to even more hatred is the world's greatest reward for him. Next time I drown, no one will care.

'Don't look so sad,' he says in passing. 'You must be used to no one wanting you around by now.'

I stare at the back of his head and fantasise about smashing it through the glass doors as he enters. Just as I'm sure every other person in the school currently fantasises doing to me.

One glare is harsher than the rest of the crowd.

I meet it with a familiar glint of amber. Diwa must read my mind because she leaps off the bench where she's been waiting and sets off toward me just as I reorient my path from the main doors to enter the building through a side staircase instead.

She catches me just as I grip the door handle. Palm flat at the centre of the glass, she keeps the door shut. On any normal day, the act would be symbolic only but I still can't feel most of my body which grants her the physical advantage too.

'Why the fuck would you confess?'

'You'll wanna survey the people but the consensus seems to be that I'm a psycho.'

I go to open the door again but she shoves me back.

Flames burst up my neck. Flog my temples. 'What the fuck do you want?'

I glance across the forecourt. Everyone dragging out their final minutes before form is watching. I can't see due to the glare but I could bet a low sum of money that people are gathered at the windows too.

Everyone wants to see me crack, watch me kill her or summat.

Like, fuck, I don't like her but I don't want her dead–!

My neck spasms. You're lying, Beewolf seethes. You know I don't like it when you lie.

Blood spurts out of Diwa's neck. Her throat has been torn out and the flood of iron on my tongue declares me guilty. Her body sways with the echo of life before she collapses into a puddle of her own blood.