PULSE

Chapter Three

[ AUGUST 1 ]

I couldn't deny that I preferred weekends to weekdays. During the weekend, I didn't have to face my classmates, teachers, or even Candace if I chose not to. On weekends, I suddenly had a choice of what to do with my time and who I wanted to spend it with—even if that ended up being nothing with nobody at all.

On this particular Saturday, despite the heat and the long walk from my apartment to the downtown area, my head had finally stopped hurting every time I stood, and my phone was safely in my pocket, on silent. I felt a strange kind of peace—the sort of feeling you get when you're in the eye of a storm, and you can see all the devastation just a breath away, but can't feel any of it yet.

There was something about it all that didn't even warrant blasting any music; I was content to simply keep my headphones over my ears to ward of conversation, but enjoy the ambient silence. Through the headphones' padding, the voices of passersby around me were dulled to a murmur, and while I couldn't make out the words, there was something comforting in hearing them anyway.

I had just settled on finding a seat on one of the park benches and just soaking in the afternoon for a bit when the murmur of voices picked up over my right shoulder. I slowly lifted the headphones from my ears, glancing behind me, where a few familiar faces had gathered in a shadowed corner between two shops. I recognized my classmates immediately, huddled in a crude semi-circle, around someone whose face I couldn't quite make out. They didn't notice me stop—or, more likely, they did, but didn't care.

For a few moments, I waited and watched, retrieving my phone from my pocket and slowly dialing the first digits that sprung to mind. When no one appeared to have a mind to greet me, I approached group quietly, placing my hand on the head of the closest person to me. It wasn't difficult to recognize the guy's face as he turned toward me, glaring at me in the worst way possible. I would have known him anywhere, even if he wasn't hanging around his ringleader, the school's resident jackass.

Every student on campus had long since committed to memory each of the faces of the guys who had hitched their reputation to James Madding.

The nameless jerk who I'd grabbed fixed me with a furious stare, but my focus was elsewhere as the circle of four boys seemed to break down, and James faced me properly. My eyes quickly flicked to the left, where another student stood slumped against the wall, cautious eyes watching me carefully. He didn't look good—the new bruise on his cheekbone and bloody lip didn't do wonders for his appearance—but I'd seen too many others who had met James and his clowns and had fared much worse.

I looked back toward James, roughly shaking the head of the guy who I was still holding onto.

"What is this? A field trip? Did I miss the permission slip?" I asked, slipping one hand in my pocket and putting on a show of being genuinely disinterested in their stunt.

James scoffed, glancing toward one of his boys in amusement.

"No field trip. We're just having a talk with Levi here. Unfortunately, it's private, so I'll have to ask you to get going," he said, grinning all the while, as if I was some sort of game he was sure he would win.

I glanced toward Levi, who was slowly pushing himself to his full height against the wall, staring at me expectantly. I sighed, shoving the boy I'd taken hold of away from me by his head and feigning disappointment.

"Right, sure."

James's grin was slowly beginning to fade, and he fixed me with an intense glare.