"Alright, I guess the first thing we should do is trade numbers with one another."

           I nearly didn't register Vance speaking to the two of us. Once Mr. Norton gave everyone their group members, we were free to get started. I had pulled out my textbook and went to begin writing down information for our ancient civilization when the chair next to me was pulled out.

           I had stared at Vance with an incredulous nature. I wasn't expecting him to even put himself in my presence let alone in front of an entire group of people. Once he did the entire room went silent in the same shock that I was experiencing as they couldn't believe their eyes either.

           Did he not know the norm? Was I supposed to tell him? Or would he retaliate and humiliate me further in front of everyone? Was this whole thing some kind of setup? I wouldn't put it past Syre to pull some kind of elaborate stunt like this, but I didn't know about Vance.

           But as I continued to sit there and gape at Vance it became more and more clear that what he was doing wasn't phasing him in the slightest. In fact, he barked at Syre to come and join us, to which he did much to his dismay.

           Syre did anything and everything he could think of to prolong his arrival at our-my table. And once he finally did, Vance just continued on like everything was normal. There is no way we had been attending the same school since the 7th grade and he hasn't heard about me and how it was unspoken that I was ignored and alienated. It just wasn't possible.

            I was so lost in my own thoughts that I failed to realize that Vance had stopped and looked back at me.

           "What," he said with a possible hint of annoyance.

           I guess I had been staring. I quickly closed my agape mouth and dropped my eyes with a little dismissive shake of my head.

          Syre scoffed, "I already have yours, Vance, and you have mine, so all we need is yours, trailer."

          I looked up at the nickname to find Vance looking inquisitively at Syre. Right when Vance opened his mouth to say something to Syre, I intervened.

         "I don't have one," I said quietly, choosing to rather lie to them than let them see my prehistoric phone. They already had the latest cell phones in their hands ready to plug in my number.

        "Bullshit," was Syre's response. He aggressively snatched up my backpack and haphazardly dumped my belongings onto the table. The very little I actually owned scattered about with thuds of textbooks before the clunk of my flip phone.

        "See?" Syre held up the old phone between the three of us, "It's right here, trailer."

        Syre flipped it open and punched in his number before pressing the call button. I had no idea how many minutes I had left on the phone. It was mere seconds before Syre's phone lit up displaying my phone number. He snapped my phone shut before dropping it onto the table. I watched as he saved my phone number under the name 'Trailer'.

        "You mind?" Vance asked holding up my phone in question, effectively pulling my attention from Syre.

         I sucked in a small breath before shaking my head. It was weird to have someone ask me permission for something. It wasn't something that was done...at all actually. It was so rare that it even caught Syre off guard and threw a judgmental look towards Vance for even doing so.

        The dynamic between Vance and Syre was a curious one. On the one hand, they sort of ran in the same circles since they both came from astronomically wealthy families, they were in the same sports and had the same luxuries, but on the other hand, they didn't always seem entirely too friendly with one another. Vance was more dismissive of Syre and there seemed to be a level of competition between the two of them. Where Syre was inadequate, Vance was there to step in and make up for the discrepancy.

        Considering that Vance was the richest kid in this school, it was like others looked to him for approval and guidance. When it came to their hierarchy, Vance was the one on top and in charge; like whatever he said, goes. And I wondered, at times, if there was anyone that went against Vance's word. It was interesting, to say the least, but it wasn't something I could necessarily busy myself with.

        Once finished with getting my number and shooting me a quick text, Vance carefully placed my phone back in my possession, "Thanks."

         I nibbled on my bottom lip at his kindness. I wasn't sure how to react to him saying 'thank you' as I couldn't remember the last time someone did.

        Vance went back to looking at his phone before continuing, "I am free this Wednesday and Thursday after school to work on this. We can't do it before school since coach threw in extra football practice for us in the morning after practice yesterday."

        "I can do the same, I guess," Syre mumbled, upset with the situation he found himself in. Had it not been Vance being the one suggesting we work together then Syre wouldn't even be having this conversation with me. I would've just done the entire thing myself, tell them where to speak, and given them full credit for the assignment. So, the fact that this will be different might be just as difficult for me as it is for him.

        Except, both of the nights that they picked were nights that I had to work. The only night this week that I could join them would be Friday.

        "How 'bout you, trailer-"

        "She has a fucking name, Hayes," Vance cut in, in almost a bored tone, yet there was a hint of irritation in his response.

        Syre glared at Vance with his eyes, but appall was written on his face as clear as day. He couldn't believe that Vance was actually subjecting him to using my actual name instead of the crude nickname he had bestowed upon me.

        I struggled to control my nervous breathing. The slight confrontation currently happening between them was making me uneasy. All it did was remind me of when my father gets heated and upset.

        In order to salvage the situation, I cut in before either of them could continue their little bickering, "I can't meet those days."

        "Why?" Syre snapped as I had barely gotten my words out.

         Again, another reason that I didn't want to explain, just another thing I didn't want them, mainly Syre, to know about me, "Uhm, becau-"

        "God, speak up tr-" his eyes flicked to Vance who was pinning him with a look of his own that I couldn't figure out. Sure rolled his eyes and settled his gaze back on me.

         "Because I have to work."

        Syre raised his eyebrows, "Work? You have a job?" He asked as if he couldn't fathom the idea of someone my age having a job. If only he realized that I couldn't just get money from my parents whenever I wanted like he could. A slow and condescending smile spread across his face as we locked eyes. It wasn't long before it formed into that smug smirk that I hated. He gave a chuckle and shook his head, finding humor in the situation.

         I didn't want to deal with this anymore or let any more information out especially to the person that would most likely use it against me in any way he could.

        "I can just do it myself. I'll get it done in the mor-"

        "No," Vance intervened.

        "Why not?" Syre objected, clearly wanting to take the easy way out and not have it be his concern or responsibility. "If she wants to do it by herself then let her."

         Somehow I found myself actually agreeing with Syre. It would just be easier to complete the assignment on my own. "It's fine, really, I can-"

         "No!" Vance snapped.

         I winced st his harsh tone. This is what I wanted to avoid-being an annoyance to yet another person.

        Group projects were the worst.

        "I'm sorry, I just don't like people doing my shit for me."

        Syre seemingly clenched his jaw at Vance's apology to me. It seems that I am undeserving of an apology from any of them in Syre's eyes.

        The highs don't apologize to the lows.

        With a calmer tone, Vance continued, "What days work for you, Logan?"

        I didn't like to compare Vance to Syre, but like Syre, Vance's voice too had a certain timber to it, but it was deeper than Syre's. And like Syre, Vance was also an attractive specimen, only his features were more ruggedly defined. When it came to muscle tone, Vance clearly won in that department. His muscles were more prominent on his body compared to Syre. They were both tall, as most of the guys in this school were, but Vance seemed to be the tallest yet, hovering just a few inches above the rest. Where Syre's eyes were a dark and haunting blue, Vance had eyes of light gray, soft and comforting. And when he smiled-

       That is something that I will always remember about Vance, his smile is world-stopping. Slightly lopsided, but genuine and real with one dimple in his right cheek to accompany it. It's no wonder all the girls go for him and he would end up with a supermodel one day, there was no doubt about that.

       "Logan?"

        Vance called again, breaking me from the mental tangent that I went on. My cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment at my spacing out of the present.

       "I don't work Friday night or Sunday, but I am busy Sunday in the morning," I said, hoping they would assume I was attending church when in reality I needed the time to go to the food shelf.

        Vance nodded his head, looking up to the ceiling no doubt making a plan in his head, "How about this- we can meet up Friday night after the game to get started, and then we can meet up somewhere on Sunday too?"

        Feeling cornered with no other way out I conceded to his idea with a nod of my head, though I would rather do it by myself and not have to put myself in their presence any longer than I had to, it wasn't an option anymore; it wasn't possible to keep deflecting the ideas, not when Vance was adamant about doing his fair share in the assignment.

        "Hayes?" he questioned Syre who just gave a blank stare back. "Does that work for you too?"

        "Fine," Syre grunted clearly not happy. "Where are we meeting?"

        "My house works," Vance offered.

        I couldn't help when my eyes slightly bulged out of my head and my mouth parted just a fraction. I had assumed we would meet at the school or a library or coffee shop somewhere to do the assignment. Not Vance freaking Bishop's house. The last thing I wanted was to be put in a vulnerable position in a foreign, nonpublic space.

        I put my face back to normal quickly before Vance caught me looking like an idiot or even Syre for that matter.

       "Alright then, it's a plan," Vance confirmed milliseconds before the bell rang to dismiss us from class.

       Like the others, I packed up my belongings that Syre had dumped out and was the last one out of the room.

        I didn't make it far as a hand wrapped tightly around my arm and I was roughly jerked under the stairwell that I was supposed to ascend. He gripped in such a constricting manner that I knew it would bruise later on. Just more bruises to add to the pile I have from not only my father but Syre as well.

        "Tsk tsk, my little trailer," came the voice of Syre. He tightened his grip on my arm and simultaneously stepped forward while pulling me against the front of his body. I could feel his hot breath on the shell of my ear as he spoke, "You keep lying to me."

         The all too familiar dread pooled in my stomach by his proximity. I hated being alone with him. It never ended well for me and it caused the concern about my well-being to increase tenfold.

        He kicked the back of my knee with his foot, making me fall to the concrete floor. Pain shot through my kneecaps; those would definitely be bruised later. I squirmed to try and alleviate the pain but Syre put his big hand on my shoulder to keep me still and pressed down as if to push me further into the floor.

         I couldn't help to release a whimper of pain when the bones in my knees dug more harshly on the concrete.

        "Tell me, you worthless little fuck," his hand pushed down more, "Do you get joy out of it?"

         I didn't respond right away, attempting to steady myself and my voice, and I really was going to answer, but it wasn't quick enough for Syre.

         Before I could register it, Syre's hand threaded into my dull brown hair and grabbed a fistful before yanking my head back in order to look into his eyes. He took a quick look around to make sure there were no lingering staff members. Though I doubt they would do much regardless.

        "Answer me!" he snarled quietly so as to not raise attention.

       "No," I all but wailed. The forced stress on my bent throat didn't allow me to speak very quietly, and it hurt, a lot.

       Syre scoffed in amusement at me and the current situation he had put me in. His free hand came down to not so lightly tap my cheek.

       "Good girl."

       Once again his smirk was back, flashing at me for a brief second before anger and disgust replaced it. Using the hand in my hair, Syre threw me forward towards the wall. I put my hands up in defense trying to soften the blow. The base of my hands taking most of the brunt with a moderate thump.

      "Pathetic," was all he said.

       I heard his footsteps move further and further away until I couldn't hear them anymore.