The Act (Charade #2) - Stella Gray Page 0,1

I looked up just in time to see her walk past my table. Our eyes caught. Hers were red-rimmed. She’d managed to keep from crying in front of her tormentors, but she clearly hadn’t managed to keep the tears completely at bay.

She looked away, hurrying to the study table she preferred in the back corner.

“There she goes,” Blake said to me. “Pathetic.”

He was drawing boobs in his notebook.

“Whatever,” I said.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “You don’t think little Miss Russian Whore is pathetic?”

I just shrugged, not bothering to correct him—I knew for a fact that Mara and her older brothers were of Serbian descent, thanks to the genealogy project she’d presented in our history class last year. God, I was so bored with high school kids. So bored with all of this shit. I couldn’t wait to graduate. To get out of this place. Out of my own house.

“I’m going to ask if she’ll tutor me,” Blake said, waggling his eyebrows. “Privately.”

I rolled my eyes, hoping he was joking, but when he stood it was clear he intended to continue the teasing that Paul and the others had started in the hallway.

He strode to the back of the room. I watched.

“Hey Mara,” he said.

She ignored him. Good girl.

“Mara Zoric. MZ. Em Zeeeee,” he tried again, drawing out the last part of her name like a whine, drumming his hands on the stack of books beside her.

It was so annoying I wanted to punch him.

“What do you want?” she finally asked.

Blake put a hand to his chest, wearing an expression of comical hurt.

“Why the aggression? I was just trying to talk to you,” he said.

Mara stared up at him. She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what he was doing. We all did.

I glanced around and noticed that pretty much the whole room was watching the interaction from the corners of their eyes. The only person blatantly ignoring the harassment was the teacher in charge of study hall, a younger guy who spent the class period messing around on his smartphone, as if we couldn’t see it under the table. It was obvious he didn’t give a shit.

“I was just wondering…” Blake said, a shit-eating grin on his face. “If you offer discounts? You know, like two for one.”

Mara’s face went red and her eyes dropped back to the open textbook on the table.

It was almost adorable how innocent she was. At least, it might be adorable—if it wasn’t for the fact that innocence got you absolutely nothing but abuse in this world.

“Come on,” Blake coaxed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you want it. And I know I can get it for free anytime I want.”

“Go away,” she whispered, glancing over at the teacher who couldn’t care less. Clearly, he wasn’t going to save her.

“Don’t be such a fucking tease,” he said. “I’ll even throw in a ride from my good pal Ford over there. Come on, M, don’t you want to see how the other half lives?”

As far as goading went, it was kind of weak. Especially because while Mara’s family wasn’t wealthy like mine was, they weren’t close to poor either. No one at this school was.

“I’d give it to you so good,” he went on. “Maybe you’d even pay me, you little slut.”

“Please,” Mara said, her voice grating a little. “Just stop.”

It was the catch in her voice that got to me. How broken and desperate it was. He’d gone too far. Everyone had. That little mouse of a girl didn’t deserve the kind of treatment she’d been getting, and I was sick of watching it play out like a TV rerun every fucking day.

As I stood, all eyes turned to me—including Mara’s. There was apprehension in her gaze, and why wouldn’t there be? I was the de facto king of the school. Whatever I said was law.

I walked over to her table.

“Right on, Malone,” Blake said. “You ready to double team this bitch under the bleachers later?”

“I’m ready for you to leave her alone,” I said coldly.

A murmur went through the room. Ford Malone standing up for Mara Zoric? It would be the gossip of the week.

“You serious?” Blake challenged, his grin starting to falter.

“Let it be,” I told him, folding my arms over my broad chest. “I’m over this shit.”

For a second, I thought he’d argue, but then he looked around. Everyone was watching.

“Whatever,” he said, and walked back to our table. It was possible he’d be pissed and we’d fight about