Aurora kept walking. She ignored the sneers and the pointing fingers, her face a mask of absolute indifference. She headed straight for the senior building, her footsteps steady against the concrete.
Two girls from her homeroom deliberately stepped into the middle of the hallway, blocking the stairs. They clutched their designer bags to their chests, their eyes raking over Aurora's uniform with exaggerated disgust.
Brooke Jennings let out a loud, theatrical snort. "Did you get that skirt at a thrift store, Aurora? It smells like cheap detergent."
Aurora didn't slow down. She didn't even look at Brooke's face. She just dropped her shoulder and drove her weight forward, slamming directly into the space between the two girls.
The impact was brutal. Brooke shrieked as Aurora's shoulder caught her off balance. Her ankle twisted violently in her expensive heels, and she stumbled hard against the brick wall.
"You psycho bitch!" Brooke screamed, clutching her ankle.
Aurora didn't look back. She pushed open the heavy oak door to her classroom.
The loud chatter inside the room died instantly. Thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward her. The air was thick with hostility and self-righteous anger. They looked at her like she was a disease.
Aurora's eyes scanned the room and landed on her desk in the second-to-last row by the window.
Her stomach muscles tightened.
The pristine mahogany surface of her desk was covered in thick, red marker. The words FRAUD, POOR TRASH, and CHARITY CASE were scrawled across the wood in jagged, angry letters.
Juston Tate was sitting on the desk next to hers. He had his legs kicked up, resting his dirty sneakers right next to the red ink. He was spinning a red marker around his fingers, a smug, punchable grin on his face.
Juston let out a loud whistle. "Wow. You actually showed up. What's the plan today, Aurora? Gonna steal some pencils to sell on the street?"
A few of his friends in the back row erupted into loud, barking laughter.
Aurora stared at the red ink. She didn't feel angry. She felt exhausted. These kids were so soft, so incredibly fragile. In The Quarry, a threat wasn't written in marker. It was written in blood on your bedsheets.
She walked over to her desk. She didn't try to wipe the words away. She just pulled out her chair, unzipped her backpack, and pulled out a heavy history textbook.
Juston's smile vanished. Her lack of reaction infuriated him. He wanted tears. He wanted her to beg.
He slammed his feet onto the floor and stood up, closing the distance between them. He slammed his hand flat onto her desk, rattling her pen cup.
"Don't ignore me, you broke bitch," Juston spat, his face turning red. "Stop acting like you're better than us."
Aurora slowly lifted her head. Her eyes locked onto his. The temperature in her gaze was absolute zero. It was the look of someone who had watched people die and felt nothing.
Juston's breath hitched. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him to back away, and he involuntarily took a half-step backward.
Humiliation burned in his chest. He wasn't going to let a poor girl scare him. He lunged forward, reaching out to grab the collar of her blouse.
Under the desk, Aurora's right hand slipped into her pocket. Her thumb found the metal slider of the box cutter. With a soft, metallic click, one inch of the razor-sharp blade slid out. She angled her wrist, preparing to slice the tendons in Juston's forearm the second he touched her.
Before Juston's hand could make contact, the classroom door swung open.
Vince Novak, the captain of the football team, swaggered in, flanked by three massive linemen. The classroom grew quiet. Vince had real money and real power in this school.
Vince took one look at the scene, walked over, and shoved Juston hard in the chest. "Back off, Tate. She's mine to play with."
Juston stumbled away, muttering under his breath.
Aurora slowly retracted the blade with her thumb. She kept her hand in her pocket. She wanted to see what the Alpha male of this pathetic pack was going to do.
Vince leaned over her desk. He planted both his massive hands on the wood, trapping her in. A suffocating wave of cheap cologne hit Aurora's face, making her stomach roll.
Vince looked down at her, his eyes dragging over her body in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Look, Aurora," Vince said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I know things are tough at home. But if you agree to be my... personal cheerleader, I'll make sure nobody touches you. I'll even buy your lunch."
The boys behind him snickered, a dark, filthy sound.
Aurora looked at Vince's arrogant, grinning face. A wave of pure nausea hit her. She was done playing with these children. It was time to pull the trigger on her plan.
She dropped her head forward, letting her long hair fall over her face. She forced her shoulders to shake, pulling her arms tight against her chest. She made herself look small, terrified, and completely broken.
Vince's grin widened. He thought he had broken her. He reached out, his thick fingers aiming for her cheek.
Aurora violently flinched away from his touch. Her left hand shot into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled perfectly as she hit the redial button for Arthur.
The call connected instantly.
Aurora pressed the phone to her face and let out a blood-curdling, desperate scream.
"Arthur! Help me! I'm on the second floor, room 204! They're going to hurt me!"
