15 Days Babysitting For My Star Quarterback Bully

te s

ne out of the literal need to survive torment every single day of the week. T

from across the cafeteria. "Over here," she m

ion. I'd been in such a rush leaving art class that I didn't bother with zipping it, and after the

lling over my plate, as I pass the table. A screeching cha

n my spine. Averting my gaze quickly, I continue on. But I don't see

ing onto the dirty floor. My food tray and backpack clatter in tow, spilling fries, vegetables, and b

n followed by flashes and the humiliating sound of shutters capturing a moment I want erased from my memory. No doubt, in the n

se at his table snickering tells me it was intentional. And even though I already knew, it gives me confirmation that h

the entire school was so desperate to curry his fa

he says, raising a brow like h

rom his piercing gaze and shove my books,

s friends, I should have known better than to walk past their table during, well, any peri

a," Maya says as she helps me stand. Then, she crouches and scoops the spilled food

teria. Just a few months and senior year will be over, I remind

trash can by the door. "I can ask the lunch lady to

"Everyone knows Mrs. Gre

onde hair over one shoulder. "She smi

w an arm over her shoulder. "That

n an empty table. Then, she shakes her head. "I can't believe that

oring him,

, bu

tes in my pocket. I pull it out and stare at the t

re going to be out of town for fifteen days,

Tyler's antics can quell the joy of havin

n't possibly get