Eleanor's POV:
It was obvious that walking into class with bruises and cuts on my face wasn't the best idea. Every single person who saw me couldn't help but stare at my swollen cheek and the fresh scuff on my lip, their eyes widening, and then quickly looking away, stifling their laughs behind their hands.
"Did someone hit her?"
"I didn't even know she was in this class. Is she the transfer student?"
"Maybe she stole something?"
The whispers stung, but it was the teachers who really tried to get under my skin. They asked me over and over if I needed help, if I should rest, or if I wanted to call a guardian to come pick me up and talk about it.
I refused them all. Every last one of them. I knew they meant well and that they were worried, but this was the start of the semester, and th
