The Bully's Princess

CHAPTER ELEVEN - RUN FOR MY LIFE

Dahlia loved the warm welcome she received when she got back to the class the next day. Her mother finally allowed her to return to the school after she had a talk with Principal Lancester, though Dahlia was not sure what they talked about. Daniel came to present her with a nice greeting card alongside Maria, who was smiling at her. She was touched by the gesture.

"We missed you in class," Maria said, coming around her, taking her cold hands. She squeezed them gently. Other students also came by, offering shy smiles.

"Thank you so much," Dahlia smiled. It warmed her heart that she was missed in class. Finally, she was settling in and was no longer the new girl.

Mrs. Henrietta asked of you. They shared the mid-test sheets, and you came out really high. "

"Peter didn’t tell you?" Maria asked. Her eyes fixated on Dahlia’s mouth, dreading what would come out.

"Eh," Dahlia said absentmindedly. She had no idea if she should tell them they lived in the same building. She might really break her neck if she did. He would torment her to no end if he knew the information came from her. She knew him in and out. He was very capable.

"No, he did not." She shook her head stiffly, avoiding Daniel’s gaze.

"How can you say that to her? Is she living with Peter? " Maria chided her playfully.

But he took her scripts? Why would he do that if he was not planning on giving them to her? " Daniel asked, puzzled. He cast a glance at Peter's empty seat, as if the chair would answer him.

Dahlia smiled, " He is a strange boy. I am sure you all know his ways by now." They all nodded, not probing further.

Maria pushed him out of her way and sat beside Dahlia. She smoothed Dahlia’s rough curls.

"Why did you not comb your hair today, Dahlia? And you look paper white as well? Don’t you put on a face cream? "

Dahlia was astonished. Her mother had been in a rush to go to work this morning. Dahlia had assured her she could dress herself and wash her own hair; she had even dropped her off in a hurry. She rarely took charge of herself. And getting her hair combed was a tug of war. She had just washed it and used her comb to give it a few tugs, and as for her body, she did the best she could. which was not much, judging by the look Maria was giving her.

Maria waited to hear a reply as she took Dahlia’s hair in her hands. Dahlia tried to shy away, but Maria would have none of it. Anna passed by just then with her minions. She shook her head but said nothing.

She went to her seat and dropped her school bag. She brought out her manicure set and began applying them on Dahlia, her friend joining her in the exercise.

"I wonder how someone our age cannot comb her own hair. What the heck? Is that person a human or a doll? "

Dahlia was infuriated. She turned to look at Anna, who responded to her look with a maddening glare.

Dahlia turned her eyes away quickly. Maria, however, was having none of it. She continued her work.

"Just get to the point, Anna, and stop muttering like a pretentious idiot." Maria said sharply

"What did you just call me? ... " Anna screamed, getting up from her seat. Maria was not afraid of her and she repeated what she did.

The girls were about to go at each other when Mrs. Henrietta came into the classroom. Her scream died in her lungs.

Anna, this is not a marketplace and I would appreciate it if you kept your tentacles in place or I would be forced to chop them off." Mrs. Henrietta chided her as she came in. Maria snickered, earning herself a rebuke as well " And you, this is not the salon. To your seats immediately "

The whole class quietened down as she began her tyrannical teaching. Dahlia sat with her hair rough and thick. She made sure to turn her back to Anna in order to block out the weird faces she was making.

"Dahlia, do you mind standing up to read the passage?"

Dahlia nodded. She picked up her book carefully. She caught Daniel’s look of disappointment that he was not called. She knew she was gradually usurping his position as the best student with her scoresheet. But that could not be helped. She wanted to be the very best there was, even if her health failed her occasionally.

"Wait! Why is your hair like that?" Mrs. Henrietta asked me to give her a proper lookover.

Dahlia paused, her beautiful eyes rolling in their sockets, her brain going blank at the best excuse to give, but she could not find one.

Dahlia hurriedly tried the first excuse that came to mind.

Mrs. Henrietta c****d an eyebrow. But it was not like this on other days. You are looking a little bit rough today, and you were not in school yesterday either. What’s going on, young lady? "

"Nothing," Dahlia said quickly.

"Alright, I will take your word for it, but do not come to school like this tomorrow. I won’t condone it. "

"Yes, ma'am," Dahlia responded, dutifully. Eager to get off the topic, she was only grateful Peter was not in school. He would make fun of her if he was in class. He was a hateful soul.

And speaking of Peter, Why was he not yet in school? That boy surely had no plan to graduate or go to college.

"Continue reading, Dahlia," Mrs. Henrietta said, firmly jotting her out of reverie.

Dahlia read through the passage successfully, and Mrs. Henrietta completed her lesson.

That was when Peter sauntered into the classroom. He was looking down. His eyes were sunken and he was sporting several bruises on his face. His appearance was the very definition of rough. He nodded at Mrs. Henrietta, who could not believe her sight. He came straight to sit beside her, ignoring her presence perfectly.

"Peter Blythe, you had better have a very good explanation for coming late to my class."

"I don’t have one," was the slow reply. Dahlia gave him a kick under the table, but he only shifted his leg away from her. It was so obvious from his tone of voice that he didn’t seem to care what the teacher thought.

"Follow me to the Principal’s office," was her final declaration. Mrs. Henrietta was clearly fed up with him.

He followed her as she left the class, quiet and foreboding. There was something wrong with him, that she was sure of.

Peter came back to the class in less than a minute. He looked unaffected, as if their principal did nothing to him, which was highly impossible judging by how stern and unsmiling Principal Leicester was.

She scooted closer to him, dragging her desk closer to his. Peter turned to look at her. She could see it plain and clear, the red bruises on his face. Where were the others not seeing it? Or maybe they just had no care for him.

"What happened to your face?"

"It's none of your business," came the sharp reply. He picked up his mathematics textbooks and attempted to do a few sums. Dahlia followed his steps as he wrote them down. He successfully got it wrong from the very first step, mucking it all up at the end. He dropped the pen in defeat.

"Want my help?" She quips in again, moving closer.

"Jeez, Dahlia, leave me alone," he snapped. He closed the book and left the class.

He stayed away from Dahlia till the school day was over. During the lunch break, he sat with his friends, Anna hanging sweetly by his side. She did not seem bothered by the fact that he gave her no attention. He seemed to be lost in a world of his own.

She left him to his own devices. He seemed content to dwell in his brooding thoughts.

She was, however, surprised when the class was over and he tapped her shoulders.

"Let’s be on our way," he said gently, as if he didn’t want the others to hear him. Which he failed terribly at. He was quite the popular guy, so his every action was watched and heard.

Dahlia looked at him queerly. " What are you talking about?"

"I am to drop you home from today onward." He stated, standing up to pack his school bag. He stuffed whatever book he managed to find and dropped it in his bag. She watched as he slipped some of her notes into his bag too. But she was too stunned by his statement to care.

Dahlia opened her mouth in protest. " Why was I not informed?" She sat still, unmoving. Daniel and Maria came close to her, Daniel giving Peter a wary glance. The rest of the class went hushed, awaiting the fight to begin.

"She does not want to go with you, Peter, leave the girl alone," Daniel butted in. Perhaps if he knew Peter’s current line of thought, he would not have ventured in.

When Peter ignored him, he reached out for Dahlia and dragged her up to face him. She whimpered at the tightness of his hold. But Peter was not observant.

"Your mama asked me to pick you up." You are to follow me home today, so let's be on our way. I hate to repeat myself twice. "

Her heaving chest was betraying her by a long stretch. She felt giddy and liked the very idea of walking home with a boy, not just any boy, but Peter. The boy was like a wrapped present she wanted to uncover. But she could not show she liked the idea, at least not in front of Daniel and Anna. Those two hung on her comeback for Peter. Though she had no idea why Daniel cared, she should at least not allow his attempt at chivalry to go to waste.

"Mother told me nothing. I will go nowhere with you. How am I so sure you are not k********g me? I have heard very bad rumours about you. She spoke with her chin raised and her mouth puffed up until she realised the gravity of what she said.

Maria gasped from her seat. She paused packing her bags. They all waited for Peter to burst out in anger and lash out at her. That very fact was something all the students knew: Peter’s bad reputation. But no one dared to say it to their face because they lived up to their reputation.The teachers themselves took absolute care to drown Principal Lanceister’s ears with their chivalry around town.

Anna smiled, no doubt believing Dahlia was done for. As Daniel moved forward, he grabbed Dahlia by the hand, ready to move her out of arms reach.

Peter gave him a crazy look. " I might be bad like you said, but don’t you go thinking I will hit a girl, Daniel." He snapped at him.

So what are you going to do? 'Drag me to go with you' I will report you to Mr. Lanceister if you so much as try," Dahlia threw at him. His touch was burning right through her skin. He had loosened his hold now but still maintained a firm grip on her wrist. The spark in them was making her all warm and giddy again. A strange heat filled her up.

He wore his bag over his head. Packing up her books, he stuffed them into her bag.

"Oh, I will show you." And to the astonishment of all that stood by. He closed the distance between them. He bent, putting his hands on her naked lower body. He carried her up princess style. He had one of her hands at his back. She steadied herself in a hurry, raising it to his shoulder, hugging him close. She could feel her blush coil up to the tip of her toe.

"Peter Blythe. Don’t you dare? "

"Oh Dahlia, you know I can and I just did." He was scorned, walking out of the class with her in his hands. Dahlia, unable to stand the shouts of her classmates, buried her face in his shirt as he walked outside to where he placed his bicycle. Dahlia was so stunned, she forgot to protest; she only hung on for dear life. She could literally feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Students walking home all started shouting when they saw them walking by. The boys whistling hailed Peter as he walked past while the teachers gave a disapproving look but made no move to stop him. For some reason, none of the teachers stopped them. They must have known of her condition then. Principal Lanceister must have spread it to them. Her mother just had to open her mouth and talk. But she was still happy, though. Peter had no idea of her health status. If he knew, she wondered if he would still bother her so. All of the people who knew her treated her like a porcelain doll. Granny Jane joined the trail.

Dahlia nearly retched out what was left of her lunch when Peter suddenly dropped her on her feet. He reached out to steady her, holding her against his body.

"Are you okay?" He asked, a hint of concern in his voice. His face had a little softness to it. When he noticed she was staring, he quickly masked it. Well, two could play the game, Peter Blythe.

Is this it? One would think you were taking me to a Porsche car slot. " She mocked her as she examined the bicycle before her. It was clear it was new, all shiny and new. It still even had the label on it. She bent to pull it off, checking the price tag.

"Oh my, it's so expensive," she exclaimed, clutching it as if she had been burned.

Peter groaned, snatching the paper from her hand, "Is that it?" His eyes gave it a scan before he tore up the paper and threw it in a nearby trash can.

I knew that dratted old man had a personal reason for helping me. "This just confirms it," Peter muttered out loud to himself.

Dahlia knew he was not talking to her. He unlocked the bicycle and rolled it forward.

"Who bought it for you?" She asked out of curiosity.

"Mind your own business, Miss prim and proper."

Dahlia flinched at his words, "Don’t call me that. I am not

"You are. You always dress neatly with all the sweaters and neckties and the finest shoes like you are some rich politician’s daughter."

"I am not. You are just saying all that to distract me from asking you where you got the bicycle. " She retorted that it was exhausting to fight with the boy. He was an endless source of arguments, never failing to dish them out to her, like he had been sent to torture her life. When she had entered Westernside, she had prayed for a friend. Peter certainly did not fit the description she had wished for. Maybe next time she would be a lot more specific.

He ignored her. He climbed the bicycle, motioning for her to get on. She stayed where she was, not moving an inch.

He said unmercifully, "Come on, I don’t have time to be with a spoiled brat princess all day."

Dahlia gasped. She gave him a hard kick. He nearly toppled over from the bicycle. She clenched her hand in a fist and began walking down the lane. Other students made them into a cinema, watching their every interaction. From the corner of her eye, Dahlia saw Maria watching her and Peter. She waved eagerly. Perhaps she had seen a savior.

But Maria simply walked on as if she had not seen her. Strange. She paused. She turned to Peter as he rode to meet her.

"Strange, I saw Maria just now, but she ignored me," she said, looking lost. Such a thing had never happened to her. She did not have a quarrel with him, and they had been in the same class together before Peter went all caveman on her.

"Maybe you need your eyes checked; we left them in class." He said cooly. He tugged on her hand again, leading her to the seat behind him. He made sure her legs were on the pedal and her two hands were wrapped around his waist. Dahlia was glad he took no notice of the redness in her cheeks; it was so hot, it could easily go aflame.

"Princess, Get comfortable. I only promised to get you home safe and sound. The ride might actually be bad if I wanted it to be "

Of course, what was I to expect? You are Peter Blythe, you have a reputation to keep up to. It would kill you to be a proper gentleman for once. "

Peter laughed as he pedalled off, "I like it. You are getting smarter with me day by day. "Keep it up while it lasts okay"

Dahlia was not fazed. She had made peace with the fact that he was a troublemaker; it was deep rooted in his blood. though she still found it fishy that her mother would agree to Peter bringing her home. Her mother disliked Peter to the core of her bones and muscles. She wondered who gave him the bicycle he rode. It was definitely not his father. Mr. Blythes had plenty of alcoholic drinks to buy; there was no way he would waste it on buying Peter a brand new bicycle at that.

Something fishy with her parents as well ? Her mother suddenly got a new job, and her father was rarely ever around. Peter was suddenly allowed to roam with her. There were pieces that needed to be connected. Maybe she would just live in the moment with Peter, if Dahlia would make her stop thinking too much. Try to uncover his inner demons instead. There was a lot more going on with him than he would let on. He seems to be hiding a lot of his father’s crimes. like the bruises on his body. She had all the good reasons to believe Mr. Blythe put them there. But she could not understand why Peter would not report to the police.

She was soon put out of her assumptions when Peter screeched to a halt.

Dahlia screamed, scared, her hands tight on his waist, hanging on for dear life. Her hair was coming loose from the loose pony tail she had managed to weave it into after Mrs. Henrietta. The hair cascaded around her face, blocking her vision. Her head hit Peter’s hard back.

She smacked him as hard as her tiny hand could fit into his broad back.

"Why did you stop like that? I will make sure to report this to Granny Jane. "

"Shhhhh," he said gently, fear in his voice.

Dahlia snapped out of it fast. Peter was not one to show fear. Something was wrong. She looked at them. She recognised the street they were on. It was just a couple of flats away from theirs, but it was gravely silent all around them. She looked around but did not see anyone.

Don’t shush me. Why did you stop? You know, that hurts. You might not feel it, but I do. I am a princess, remember. I can’t be injured at all. "

He placed one hand on her knee, stopping her. "Stop talking, Dahlia." Heat crept up her leg and, along with it, concern. She alighted from the bicycle and looked ahead, standing beside him. She gasped as he saw what had stopped him.

There was an alley up ahead that they needed to pass through to get to their own street. And right by the mouth of the alley were a group of boys. They were all huddled over something on the floor; it was cash. They were sharing money among themselves, their loud bickering and shouting disrupting the silence of the street.

She moved close to Peter just as the leader of the group noticed them . He smiled at her. A predatory smile creeps up his mouth. He notified the others. They walked forward, and they were not empty-handed. She could see one of them brandishing a knife and the other two golf sticks.

She stepped even closer to Peter.

"Peter, who are they?" She whispered. She shivered; the boys were not smiling at all. She wondered what he had done to offend them. She had always belittled his reputation, but it was true after all. Peter Blythe was becoming too complex to unravel.

"Princess," Peter called softly as the group advanced on them.

"Yes, Peter."

"Seat, we might need to ride out of here as fast as we can."

Dhalia gasped, slow to respond to him. He dragged her and placed her back on the seat. He made a sharp turn. He pedalled out of there as if his life depended on it. The download slope makes their runaway sweeter.

She could hear the boisterous sound of the group at her back, running after them. She hung on for dear life to Peter’s clothes. One could never tell with Peter Blythe. It was one day, one trouble. She gave a happy squeal as the wind splashed her hair all around them. She was feeling it again. She would call it adrenaline and not that strange feeling. She should have been scared, but it was all so exciting.How Peter Blythe thought he could run away from angry youths with a bicycle was beyond her. But just in case, it would be best if she could reach her hands into her bag that he had put across his chest. The sooner she got her hands on her phone, the better.