Chapter 2 Hallway Politics and Clichés

When the loud, metallic ring of the bell finally signaled the end of the period, Maya let out a long, trembling breath, deflating entirely against the back of her plastic chair.

Around her, the classroom transformed into a chaotic blur of noise as students shoved their notebooks into bags and rushed for the exit. Mr. Lewis raised his voice, desperately trying to shout the homework assignment over the deafening clatter of desks and loud chatter, but no one was listening.

It had been the longest forty minutes of Maya's life. Sitting next to Richmond had been like sitting next to a dormant volcano. He had spent the entire period completely motionless, staring a hole straight through Mr. Lewis with a terrifying level of intensity, while the rest of the students constantly sneaked nervous, speculative glances toward their row.

Maya figured most of the attention was directed squarely at Richmond. A nineteen-year-old student in a public high school was a statistical anomaly—usually the sign of someone who had spent time in juvenile detention, or someone dealing with circumstances far heavier than basic algebra. But Maya absolutely loathed the collateral attention she had garnered. She hadn't wanted to be noticed at all, yet he had literally dragged her into the spotlight by her wrist.

And the fallout was already beginning.

From a few rows ahead, she had noticed one of the school's resident mean girls tracking their entry. While the girl had leveled a deeply lustful, predatory gaze at Richmond, the look she had reserved for Maya was pure, unadulterated retribution.

Maya sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. And the day is still incredibly young. She really, truly should have forced the homeschooling issue.

Once the classroom had completely emptied of regular students, Maya stood up and gathered her heavy books against her chest like a shield. She noticed that Richmond—why was she already obsessing over his age?—was already on his feet. He slung a heavy black tactical backpack over his broad shoulder, his entire outfit an uncompromising silhouette of solid black.

Instead of heading for the exit, he marched directly to the front of the room. Mr. Lewis was seated at his desk, sorting through a stack of worksheets.

Smack.

Ajax slammed his massive palm down onto the paperwork. The explosive sound made both Maya and Mr. Lewis jump simultaneously.

"I didn't appreciate being called out in front of the entire class," Ajax growled. His voice was incredibly low, harsh, and carried a dangerous, predatory edge.

Maya’s eyes went wide. He just growled at a member of the faculty. Wow.

From her vantage point near the back door, she couldn't see Ajax’s facial expression, but she was entirely certain he was speaking through locked teeth. Every muscle in his massive, rigid frame looked taut, his veins prominent against his skin like some live-action comic book villain. He leaned over the desk, invading the teacher's space inch by inch. Mr. Lewis instinctively tried to wheel his chair backward, but the solid plastic backrest hit the filing cabinet behind him, cutting off his retreat.

"Y—you don't scare me, Ajax," Mr. Lewis stammered, though his trembling voice betrayed him completely.

Maya let out a tiny, involuntary snort, immediately clamping her lips together in horror, hoping neither of them had heard her. From where she was standing, Mr. Lewis looked absolutely terrified.

Ajax, she thought, processing the name. Greek for the powerful warrior.

She looked him over again, evaluating him from a distance. The name was ridiculously accurate. The guy was a absolute tank, easily six-foot-two or six-foot-three. His back was incredibly broad, his shoulders looked like they belonged to a professional linebacker, and his forearms were thick enough to be mistaken for tree trunks. He was deeply intimidating based on sheer physical stature alone, completely independent of the terrifying aura he radiated. She did not envy Mr. Lewis at all.

Deciding she had witnessed enough, Maya quietly slipped through the doorway and sprinted down the crowded hallway toward her locker. She had zero desire to become a material witness to a teacher-assault case on her very first day. She had enough drama waiting for her at home without adding a police statement to her afternoon schedule.

Because she had delayed in the classroom, the hallway was already packed with students shifting between periods. She reached her locker, spun the combination with practiced speed, and sighed in temporary relief. She figured she had at least a few seconds of peace before—

"Princess Tiana is a senior now? Wow. Who exactly did you have to blow to skip an entire grade?"

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Maya closed her eyes, squeezing her hands into tight fists against her sides. Why me?

It wasn't like she hadn't anticipated this exact confrontation. But the sheer predictability of it was exhausting.

Maya took a deep, fortifying breath, pulled the required textbooks for her next period out of the metal cubby, and slammed the locker door shut. Only then did she turn around to face her tormentor.

Barbie—yes, her actual, legal name was Barbie Collins—was a walking, talking high school cliché. From the way she pitched her vocal cords to the calculated malice in her posture and her excessively expensive, heavily styled clothes, it was like watching a low-budget movie villain. It was honestly tragic how little originality the girl possessed. Maya secretly theorized that Barbie's extreme bitchiness stemmed from a deep, subconscious awareness of her own profound boringness.

Maya attempted to step to the right to bypass the trio, but the minion standing on Barbie's left instantly shifted her weight, blocking the path entirely. This was Janelle, the designated token minority of the elite clique, fulfilling yet another ancient cinematic trope.

"She asked you a question, Princess," Janelle sneered, crossing her arms.

Maya remained completely silent, keeping her gaze leveled firmly at the floor, refusing to grant them the satisfaction of eye contact.

"What, are you suddenly too good to speak to us?" Janelle pushed, her tone dripping with manufactured contempt.

"Oh, she probably thinks she’s royalty now since she crawled into first period with Ajax Richmond," Kimmy sighed dreamily from the right. She began wrapping a strand of her dark hair around a manicured finger. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind blowing him. I bet his huge dick would literally choke me out," she giggled, totally unbothered by her own vulgarity.

Maya’s snapped up at that. Her eyes rounded in absolute disbelief as she stared at Kimmy. Did I miss a memo? Is this actually high school, or did I accidentally wander onto the set of a trashy reality show?

Kimmy was the undisputed idiot of the dynamic. She had been a natural blonde until Barbie demanded she dye her hair dark brown so Barbie could remain the sole blonde of the group. Kimmy had actually agreed to it, proving that the 'dumb brunette' trope was now a reality at Riverton High.

"Listen to me carefully, freak," Barbie whispered, stepping directly into Maya's personal space until their noses were practically touching. The heavy scent of artificial vanilla perfume filled the air. "Stay away from Ajax. He belongs to me. If you don't..." Barbie’s eyes narrowed into cruel slits. "I will personally ensure your final semester in this school is a living hell."

Aren't you already doing that? Maya thought bitterly.

She was deeply tempted to say the words out loud, to let the snark fly, but her survival instincts prevailed. With a sharp, dramatic flick of her bleached hair, Barbie dismissed her, stepping aside just enough to let Maya pass.

Maya hurried down the corridor, her heart hammering. Out of three hundred students in their class year, why the hell did the three of them consistently pick her to torture?

Just a few more months, she reminded herself, taking comfort in the mantra. Just a few more months, and I'll be thousands of miles away from every single one of them.