I don't know why I thought that I was going to be able to avoid people when I came to school after my talk with Landon. I had hidden my neck well enough the week prior for there to only be rumors. Now? It was hard to hide a swollen eye, bandaged knuckles, a bandaged forearm, and another arm caught up in a makeshift sling. Apparently, Landon knew how to expertly make a sling out of a sheet. While it had been two days (I think - time was really not on friendly terms with me at the moment) since Gunboy's friend had dislocated my shoulder (it was easier to remember him as Gunboy and his sidekick rather than their actual names), my fight with Ven later that night did nothing if not make it worse. 

It hurt when I moved my left arm. At first, I figured that I could just toughen through it for a couple of days, until I realized that, given that a bone was forced out of the socket before being forced back in, it was probably going to take a lot longer than a couple of days for my shoulder to properly heal.

Go figure. None of this helped me remain under the radar. I'm honestly surprised I made it halfway through first period before someone decided that a student who looked as if they had been someone else's punching bag - as Jaxon had so kindly put it a couple days prior - was not an ethical thing to ignore. Or a lawful thing, for that matter.

I had my foot propped up against the edge of the desk, leaning back in my chair in the far-right corner of the class. We were supposed to be working on some sort of algebra assignment, but I had settled on taking a pen apart (an amazing feat, that is, doing it with an arm in a sling) and pondered on whether or not I could use the case as a spit-ball launcher, absently chewing a piece of gum I'd snagged off of Landon's desk before I had left his house. I wasn't normally a gum chewer, but I was feeling a bit sporadic today.

At the front of the class, my all-time arch-nemesis sat, rushing through stupid poly-something-something formulas as if trying to show that there was a brain somewhere beneath all that makeup. Okay, so really it was a bit of foundation and mascara, but let's be real here. It's a hell of a lot more than I have ever had in my life.

Becka Jorden, sitting there with her dark hair rolled up in a tight bun. I hadn't seen her all last week, and up until now, I did not notice that she wasn't even here until I heard that she had placed in some sort of cheerleading contest that was out of town. Today was the team's first day back. Being the champ I am, I wanted to plot the best congratulations greeting Gallin had ever seen.

I glanced down at the practice paper in front of me, lips pursed in concentration. Our regular Algebra teacher was out this morning, which meant Miss Hempshire had to use her free period to govern our class. Everyone knew she saw everything . . . and I was contemplating if I could ruin that streak. She was grading papers from other classes up front at the desk. Being a bit past eight in the morning, I guessed that she didn't feel the need to watch a bunch of groggy kids still getting over a weekend of staying up late and partying. Most of us still had our heads pressed up against the desks.

It could work. I reached over to tear a corner of the page . . . just as a small green note was slipped in front of my fingers, instead. Startled, I let my foot off the desk and fell forward with an eerily loud clank! and looked up to see Miss Hempshire staring down at me with a concerned frown - which further deepened as my once-pen and its parts fell out of my lap and onto the floor. Holy hell, it was like she just appeared right in front of me. I stiffened, preparing myself for a lecture about needing to do my work, when she gestured to the note in front of me.

"The counselor wants to see you," she said softly. I frowned. I hadn't seen anyone come into the classroom to give her the note, and I didn't recall her receiving a phone call. I peered down at the green slip of paper.

I wonder if it's about grades again.

Sighing, I shrugged and made to stand, but not before bending down to pick up the casing of the pen. Miss Hempshire would not budge a muscle, and upon realizing this, I looked over to meet her stare.

"Miss Hempshire?"

The woman blinked, startled, and gave a small shake of her head. She left me standing there as she made her way to her desk, her back stiff and her gait just awkward enough for a street fighter to know she's nervous. Street fighter. I glanced down at my bandaged knuckles. It wasn't everyday I came to school bandaged and bruised - I normally tried to keep the fighting for times where school was not a plan over the next few days. Even so, sometimes preferences didn't always line up with reality. Glancing over my arms, which were covered by the baggy sleeves of my hoodie, I had to wonder if I was ever this banged up while in school.

Ah, shit.

Not at all looking forward to a conversation with the counselor, I slumped my way up the aisle and made way out of the depressing classroom - all the while slipping the piece of gum I had been chewing and sticking it to the back of Becka Jorden's chair. The moment she was finished with the assignment, she would sigh and slump back in the seat, letting everyone know that she finished the stupid math assignment with ten minutes to spare. I wished I could be in the classroom when that happened. Gum was a terrible substance to wash out of anything - hair, clothes, shoes. Maybe this would teach her to stop being so damn predictable.

-.-.-.-

If I had any hope left about this sudden meeting with the counselor being one to just chide me about grades, that hope was quickly squashed the moment I stepped foot in Miss Harbery's office. The older woman was standing behind her desk with the nurse standing off to the side, and for a split second, I almost laughed. The thought of the nurse - a petite woman with dull, grey eyes and a face that might as well have been made of stone - seeing the counselor was almost surreal. Did Miss Harbery offer therapy lessons to staff members, too?

Miss Harbery gestured to an empty chair in front of her desk. Eying the nurse, Mrs. Donway, I obliged, if not reluctantly.

"What's up, Miss H?" I asked, trying to clear some of the tension in the small office. The middle-aged woman stared at me through wide eyes, as if she was trying to pick apart everything going through my head. I got an uncomfortable feeling that if she could do just that, she would.

"How are things, Tria?" she asked after a moment. I frowned, glancing between her and the nurse.

"Why am I here?" I countered instead. Then, at the counselor's unamused expression, I sighed. "Peachy, Miss H. Things have been real peachy. Can I go now?"

"Your hood, girl," Mrs. Donway said suddenly. I jumped, glancing over in her direction as she made a hand gesture to my jacket. "Take it off."

I couldn't help myself. I barked out a laugh. What was up with everyone and getting me out of my hoodie?

"That's a bit out of protocol, don't you think?"

"Tria," Miss Harbery said patiently. "We have reason to suspect that you've been involved in gang violence that has been spreading throughout the school. Please-"

I scoffed, torn between wanting to smile and the urge to punch her in the nose.

"Miss Harbery, no offense, but you've been living under a rock if you're just noticing the shit students pull at this school. And shouldn't the police be in here, if you're suspecting me?"

"So then you admit to being involved?"

"No. What you see here is a result of self-defense."

Miss Harbery blinked, then, with a nod from Mrs. Donway, she reached beneath her desk to grab something. Instinctively, I tensed, then cursed myself. The only people who were allowed to have guns at the school were the occasional security guards that patrolled the area every now and then.

No, what she pulled out was a simple box tape recorder. It was then, at that moment, that I realized something sketchy was up. I was still considered a minor. If they wanted to question me about gang violence, they should have called Hadi in as well as the police. Instead, I was being questioned by the school's nurse and counselor.

Sliding the tape recorder to the middle of her desk, I leaned in as she pressed down on the red button. What I heard next was enough to make my blood go cold.

"Does Landon know you two are here?"

It was my confrontation with the two boys from Friday.

"Throw the backpack to the ground."

A few muffled sounds broke through the recording, until . . .

"Find it?"

"No, it's not here."

"What are you-"

"You shut-up, Hale. Take off the hoodie."

"Excuse me?"

I raised my eyes to see Miss Harbery studying me, her middle-aged face calm and expressionless. More scuffling, more words, although at this point it was hard to make most of them out. Suddenly, an ugly pop! erupted, followed by a loud, pained scream. I winced, remembering too well the pain in my shoulder.

"Get back - both of you!"

"You won't shoot us."

"I have one flashdrive," Damn, I certainly did not sound like I was having a pleasant day. Shaking my head, I eased back in my chair - though not far enough back for my feet to no longer touch the ground. I made sure that they were well and truly planted, in case I needed to bolt. I didn't like how this woman was acting - didn't like how both she and the nurse were watching me like some sort of social experiment with unsure results.

"You telling me that you were lingering around the girls' bathroom while a couple of teenage boys pointed a gun to my head?" I accused, the hairs on the back of my neck rising on end. Silence - even on the recorder.

"Tonight, Hale," Gunboy warned. It was hard forgetting the voice that helped secure a terrified woman about to get her eyes ripped out of her head. "Get it to us by tonight. Back of the apartments."

"How I got this is confidential," Miss Harbery said at last. She leaned forward, reaching out in an attempt to grab my hand. I flinched away from her. "Tria, I want to help you."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Nurse Donway move. I snapped my gaze in her direction, and she stopped.

"Bullshit. There was a gun in the school Friday and no one's getting their bags searched today?" Funny, how I didn't even realize the fact myself until the words were already flying past my mouth. I felt my eyes widen at the realization, and it was the pounding headache which scored my temples that kept me from leaping from my seat. I didn't give Miss Harbery time to open her mouth before I was shooting more questions at her. "How the hell did you get someone to record that, anyway? Why didn't you try to stop it?"

"It was given to me," Miss Harbery tried to explain. "I had no-"

I pressed forward, leaning my 'good' arm - or at least, the one that wasn't in a sling - on her desk.

"Why are you showing me this?"

Miss Harbery raised her eyebrows.

"If you would allow me to explain?"

I stared at her, searching her worn face for a sign that made her one of the bad guys. When I made no move to speak, she gave me a brief nod.

"The boys that threatened you. I need to know who they are."

"The person that recorded this didn't tell you?" I could just imagine the counselor's thoughts as I said this. Insufferable, this girl, isn't she? I glared at her. I could be a whole lot worse.

"Your name is mentioned in the video - not the boys'."

"So pull the cameras," I suggested, a heavy note of sarcasm lingering in my tone. "Does the principal even know about this?"

The subconsciousness is a fantastic thing. Normally, I balked when someone tried to bring up supernatural things, or give long-winded explanations about how the human mind worked. I preferred to keep things simple - you know, the KISS method. 

Keep it simple, stupid. 

Never failed me before. However, in that moment, I was distinctly aware of a small, hyped-up voice screaming in my head - Move! For heaven's sake, Tria, move!, - nearly overcoming every other sense in my body. I saw the way the counselor's eyes flicked behind me.

"The giants don't need to know," she said softly, and I just about lost it. 

Okay, I did lose it. One look over my shoulder, seeing Nurse Donway behind me with a needle held firmly in a tight fist - which was now only centimeters from my neck - and I went from cooped up in my chair to using said chair as a weapon. I jolted back, my momentum shooting the chair straight into the nurse's shins. She tumbled forward as I danced to the right, wide-eyed.

"What the fuck is up with everyone and this 'giant' talk?" I exclaimed, then shook myself. I needed to get out of here. Miss Harbery stood, her face nothing if not a calm, patient mask.

"Now, Tria-"

Nurse Donway was scrambling to her feet, wincing, a mouthful of curses streaming from her lips. I took one look at her and made for the door I'd used to get in here - only to come face-to-face with a security guard, peering down at me with blank, emotionless eyes, his large arms crossed over his chest once I opened it.

Whoa, there. I slammed the door in his face, my heart pounding in my throat. I'd just managed to back up enough before the door flew open, and as the same security guard made to grab me, Nurse Donway reached out for my arm. I rammed my side into her - I was taller than her by a good few inches - and the force of the blow sent her tripping over her feet. Shrugging my other arm out of its sling, I forced her grip from me with a solid punch to the face.