my best friends, but they threw me away seven months ago. They were the reason for my daily torment.
“Rough time in gym?” a familiar voice asked to my right.
I cringed, each hair on my neck standing straight at attention as I tried to steady my breathing.
Bonham Brodie could practically smell fear. I felt his eyes on my back as I walked faster. I wasn’t in the mood for his games today. I wasn’t in the mood to face any of the Heirs. Bonham came from old money. The kind of money that didn’t require him to work. His perpetual trust-fund family traded stocks worth millions just for fun, and spent their free time building social ladders just to burn them down whenever they felt like it.
“You not hear me? I’m talking to you. I thought all those etiquette classes your mama made you take were supposed to teach you manners, Scarlett,” he mocked.
The sounds of his sneakers hitting the tile behind me made my own steps increase in pace. Shit. If Nurse Courtney saw us together, she might not want to give me spare clothes. No one wanted to go up against Bonham. He was known for tearing down reputations. He could start any rumor about you and it would spread through Savannah like the wild fire that took down Mr. Green’s horse stables the past summer. Though I couldn’t confirm it, he was the reason I’d earned my notorious nickname: Trash Whore. I was named after the way my friends threw me away.
“I’m in a hurry,” I said, while glancing back at him over my shoulder.
Bonham was classically handsome. His strong jawline and dimpled chin could make anyone purr. He had vibrant green eyes and dirty blond hair, cut short but parted to the side. His Smith Academy’s crest was on his blazer pocket, and his tie was undone, hanging off him in a disheveled, sexy way.
I felt his fingers wrap around my bicep and I turned around, gasping when my eyes met his furious gaze. He clicked his tongue in disapproval when he saw the dried blood on my lip, and yanked me closer to inspect it. “Another fight, I see,” he said.
“Just another day,” I growled back before trying to pull myself from his grip. I couldn’t. He held me too tightly.
Bonham placed his thumb at my cut, pressing until he made it bleed again. He smeared the blood along my jawline, all while staring at me. “I think blood-red looks good on you, Scar,” he said, letting that cruel edge seep into his expression.
“It is my favorite color,” I replied sarcastically.
Bonham looked me up and down again. I recognized that critical eye. It was the same appraising look he’d given me two years ago, when he helped me pick a dress for Luis's birthday party. It was the same look he’d given me when he taught me to ride a bike as a kid, or when he tutored me in math. Assessing. Determined. Focused. It was a look that made me hate myself a little bit. Because, despite them making me a target at that fucked up school, it also gave me hope that my old best friend was still hiding in there somewhere, willing to take on the world alongside me.
As if he’d suddenly remembered that he didn’t want to touch me, Bonham quickly dropped his hands and looked around the empty halls, like he wanted to make sure no one had seen us together. Fucking prick.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t hit back,” Bonham said with a shrug before walking past me. I spun to watch his back. “We both know you could kick her ass.”
I bit my cracked lip, making more blood flow, the crimson drops landing on the tile floor at my feet. Yeah, I could kick her ass. Bonham would know, since he was the one who’d taught me how to fight in the first place. He once told me that all pretty girls should know how to defend themselves and throw a punch. I just never thought that I’d ever have to defend myself from them.
“Tell Nurse Courtney I said hello,” Bonham called over his shoulder before disappearing down the corner.
Fuck.
The Heirs were determined to punish me, and that meant that they reveled in our peers doing most of the work for them. If they knew that I’d been getting help from Nurse Courtney, they might want to make life difficult for her, which was the very last thing