It cracked against my jaw, sending me stumbling into the stall.
“Ah! Hey—!”
Another hit.
Then another.
I threw my arms up, half-falling onto the toilet, taking it—one sloppy swing after the next. Their punches weren’t great. Wild and poorly aimed, fueled more by nerves and too much mascara than any real training.
But I let it happen.
A bruise here. A hair yank there. A knee that barely grazed.
Let them feel like they won something.
“Bianca should’ve never let you get away with that attitude,” the lip gloss girl finally spat, chest heaving. “You’re a disgrace. To this school. To her.”
Ah. There it was.
So it was Bianca.
I grabbed the closest girl by the arm and shoved her just hard enough to send her flying out of my stall, stumbling straight into the sink.
“Tell her I said than
