Foreigner

Chapter 20

"Why did you do that?!" my mom yells, standing over me as I sit on one of the chairs in my dorm room.

It's Sunday. I was hoping my family would skip again like they did last time and the time before that, but no. This time Principal Andrews called on them. He told them what I did. And now, Izzy and Mom are here, glaring and screaming at me.

As for the rest of the punishments, since I'm a first offender, I only got a week of janitorial work and more frequent appointments with Dr. Matthews.

I don't give a damn about cleaning. I do, however, have a bone to pick with the local psychologist.

"What the hell was going through your mind when you put that poor boy in the hospital?!" Mom continues, gesturing wildly.

"Poor boy?" That ticks me off. Standing up, I look my mom in the eye, dead-serious, and say, "That poor boy's friend did this to me." I point at my bruised under-eye and nose area. "That ginger bitch broke my nose. And that poor boy put my friend in the hospital."

"Language!"

"I don't care. He deserved it! And I stand by what I did." I close my statement, sitting back down, crossing my arms, and averting my gaze.

Mom doesn't say anything. She just stands there, staring daggers at me.

She's furious. Her lips press into a thin line, and I can see her trying to swallow her anger, but the muscles in her jaw twitch, and I know she's about to explode again.

"You stand by it?" she repeats, voice tight. "You're proud of what you did?"

I don't answer. I keep my arms crossed, looking away, because yes, I am.

Monroe deserved it.

Tommy didn't.

And if she knew the whole story, if she knew about the Seven and the real monsters in this school, maybe she wouldn't be standing here, looking at me like I'm the biggest disappointment of her life.

Mom lets out a sharp breath like she can't believe this. "You don't even care, do you?"

I don't respond, and she laughs. But it's not amused—it's that bitter, exhausted laugh that makes my stomach sink a little. "God, Lukas, do you even hear yourself?"

"You're acting like I jumped him for no reason."

"I'm acting like you—" She cuts herself off, pressing her fingers against her temple like this is giving her a headache. Like I'm giving her a headache.

Isadora is still quiet, arms crossed over her chest, watching the whole thing unfold. She hasn't said a word yet, hasn't yelled, hasn't sided with Mom.

"Say something," I snap at her. "You're just going to stand there and judge me in silence?"

Isadora's eyes flicker. She doesn't look away, but she doesn't take the bait, either. "I don't have anything to say."

I hate how calm she is. Hate that she's always been the reasonable one. Mom loses her temper, yells, lets me know exactly what she's feeling, but Izzy? She just looks at me like she's trying to figure something out, like she's quietly disappointed but won't say it outright.

And somehow, that's worse than getting screamed at.

Mom exhales, rubbing her temple again. "I don't know what to do with you," she mutters, half to herself.

I don't answer.

She doesn't expect me to.

There's a beat of tense silence, and then Mom turns for the door, grabbing her coat off my desk chair. "We're leaving."