Chapter 4 - First Day Of School (Continued)
1565 Words
After a few minutes, the teacher walked in—a woman in her mid-forties with a soft blouse and strict eyes. She set her bag on the desk and grabbed a marker.
“Good morning, everyone. I’m Mrs. Turner. Before we begin, I’d like to—”
She stopped abruptly as the door slammed open.
A small group of boys spilled into the room, laughing and shoving each other. Kendra didn’t bother looking up at first. She knew that laugh already. It had already been filed away in the part of her brain labeled People to Punch Later.
“Sorry, Mrs. Turner,” a familiar voice said. “It’s hard trying to keep these idiots under control sometimes.”
Kendra’s eyes snapped up.
It was him.
The asshole who had tripped her.
Up close, he somehow looked even more annoyingly put-together. His uniform fit just right. His posture screamed confidence. His eyes scanned the room as he owned it.
Mrs. Turner gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, Mr. Garrison. I know how boys can get.” She raised her voice. “Robin and Antonio, get yourselves off that floor and into your seats! The new students are about to introduce themselves.”
Mr. Garrison.
Kendra’s hands clenched around the edge of her desk.
So that’s his name, she thought. I’ll remember it for the obituary.
He turned to scan the classroom. His gaze brushed past a few students, then locked onto her.
There it was again—that smirk. Like he knew exactly what he’d done and enjoyed every second of it.
He started walking up the aisle, each step unhurried, confident. He stopped right in front of her desk and glanced down at the surface as if inspecting it before meeting her eyes again.
“What?” she snapped, already irritated.
“You’re in my seat,” he said calmly.
Kendra barked out a humorless laugh. “The hell? Is your name on the seat? Or did you buy it?”
“No,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly. “But my dad donates money to the school every year. Plus, he’s the principal of this school. So technically, he owns every single item here. From the lockers, you put your stuff onto the desks you sit on. So, when I say get up,”—his eyes hardened— “you get the f**k up.”
A ripple went through the room. A few students turned to stare, waiting to see what she’d do.
Kendra leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared him down.
“I’m still not getting up,” she said, her voice low but steady. “And I’d love to see you try to get me out of this seat. There are plenty of others here, but you chose to come bother me. So go on. Put your hands on me. I wish you would.”
His jaw flexed. For a moment, something sharp and dangerous flashed in his eyes. He reached out; fingers started to curl like he was going to grab her.
Before he could, one of his friends, the same one she’d punched earlier, pulled him back by the arm and leaned in to whisper something into his ear. His gaze flicked to Kendra again, studying her with a strange intensity, then back to his friend.
Whatever was said worked.
He straightened, gave her a murderous glare, and leaned in just close enough so only she could hear.
“Watch your back, b***h,” he whispered.
A thrill of anger shot through her, but she only smirked, tilting her head like she wasn’t impressed.
“That's the best you got?” she murmured.
He scoffed and turned away, heading for the very back of the room. His friends followed, taking the seats behind her.
Kendra slowly leaned back in her chair, heart still racing. She felt their eyes on the back of her head for the rest of the class.
She refused to give them the satisfaction of turning around.
________________________________________
The rest of the morning crawled by. Teachers introduced themselves. Syllabi were handed out. Students whispered and giggled and blatantly stared at the five Jamaican girls in the room.
By lunch, Kendra was starving and drained.
The girls found an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. It was perfect enough for the center of the room to feel slightly hidden, but close enough to the exit in case she decided the entire place was too much and wanted to disappear.
They sat down, unpacked their food, and started talking about classes.
For about five minutes, everything was peaceful.
Then the shadows fell over their table.
Kendra looked up to find Dominic (who Sofia corrected when I called him Mr. Garrison, while ranting earlier) and his friends standing there, tray in hand. A group of girls clung to their arms and shoulders, laughing too loudly, fluttering eyelashes like they were auditioning for a reality show.
“This table,” Garrison said, looking down at them. “Move.”
Kendra stared at him, then at the completely free tables scattered around the room.
“No,” she said simply, looking back at her food.
One of the girls, a blonde with heavy makeup caked across her face, unhooked herself from Antonio’s arm and slapped her hands onto the table.
“Didn’t you hood rats hear what my boyfriend said?” she sneered. “Get your ugly asses up and go find another table. We want this one.”
Kendra slowly lifted her head.
She smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
“And didn’t this stick-looking, makeup-caked face b***h hear what we said?” she replied. “We’re not moving. We’re not scared of you. So go find another spineless group to pick on.”
The girl gasped. “This b***h—yo, I swear—”
Dominic grabbed her wrist. “Leave it,” he muttered, pulling her away. “It’s not worth it.”
He dragged her a few steps toward another table.
Kendra went back to her food, assuming that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Her head was down, scrolling through her phone with one hand while eating with the other, when she sensed movement beside her.
She looked up just as the blonde girl tipped an entire cup of chocolate milkshake over her.
Cold, sticky liquid drenched her hair, her face, her hoodie, sliding down into her shirt. The gasps and bursts of laughter from the other tables hit her ears like slaps.
The blonde stood over her, smiling sweetly. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again,” she said. “If you do, I’m going to make your life miserable.”
She turned as if to walk away.
Kendra stood up so fast her chair skidded back with a loud screech.
Her fingers shot out, tangling in the girl’s hair. She yanked hard and slammed her face down onto the table with a satisfying thud. Trays rattled. Someone screamed.
The laughter in the cafeteria died instantly.
Kendra grabbed the nearest container—a big bowl of dipping sauce—and poured the entire thing down the front of the girl’s shirt. Then, for good measure, she rubbed it in sauce, sauce smearing across expensive fabric and streaking down her chest.
The girl shrieked.
Kendra leaned in close, voice low enough for only the immediate area to hear.
“If you ever come near me or anyone I care about again,” she said calmly, “I’m going to break every bone in your body and embarrass you so bad you’ll have to change schools. Got that?”
The girl nodded frantically, eyes wide and wet.
“Good.” Kendra let go of her hair. “Now get the f**k off my table and out of my sight.”
She glanced up, catching Antonio’s stunned expression and Dominic’s unreadable one.
“Oh,” she added, straightening up. “And take your boyfriend and your friends with you.”
The girl scrambled away, still dripping sauce and milkshake. Her little entourage hurried after her. Antonio followed, jaw clenched, not meeting Kendra’s eyes.
The cafeteria stayed quiet for a beat.
Then, slowly, conversations started again, but no one else came near their table for the rest of lunch.
Kendra exhaled, adrenaline still buzzing in her fingertips. Her hoodie clung to her uncomfortably. She grabbed some napkins and dabbed at the mess, but it was useless.
“Come on,” Jennie said softly. “Let’s go to the office. See if they have something you can change into.”
They walked out of the cafeteria together. Kendra could feel eyes on her the whole way.
________________________________________
She ended up borrowing a T-shirt from the lost and found—large, plain, and ugly—but at least it was dry.
The rest of the day was… eventful.
People stared in the halls. Some whispered. A few smiled at her like she was some kind of legend. Others looked at her with wariness, like she was a walking warning sign.
Every time she walked into a classroom, she could feel Dominic’s eyes on her. Sometimes she looked back. Sometimes she didn’t.
Either way, one thing was clear:
Day one, and she’d already made enemies.
And as far as Kendra Atchinson was concerned…
They started it.
- Writer
