Guns and Roses

Upside down

By third period the next day, I was sure the universe hated me.

It started with a dull ache behind my eyes. Then my back started to spasm. By fourth period, my entire stomach was a twisting mess of pain and betrayal.

Cramps.

The kind that make you hate being born a woman. The kind that make sitting upright feel like war. The kind that make you wish for a black hole to open under your desk and swallow you whole. The kind where your booty hole ached if you breathed too deep or blink too hard.

I stayed quiet, trying not to draw attention to myself.

Micah sat beside me, tapping his pencil rhythmically against the desk like he was composing a new song in his head. I didn’t have the strength to tell him to stop. I could barely lift my head. The room was spinning, and I was burning up and freezing all at once. Fever. Perfect.

I blinked slowly, holding back tears, willing my body to behave for at least two more hours. But pain doesn’t wait.

And humiliation always shows up early.

I didn’t notice until I stood up-too fast, too careless then I heard the little gasp from the girl behind me.

“Oh my God,” she whispered under her breath. “She’s stained.”

My heart dropped.

I looked down.

There it was. Bright and obvious and cruel.

I wanted to die. Or disappear. Or something. ANYTHING.

I turned back to sit down, dizzy with shame, when I heard the familiar sound of laughter behind me. Not from the teacher. Not from Micah.

From a group of girls whispering at the back. Loud enough for anyone to hear. Loud enough for him to hear.

Saint-Laurent.

His head was on the desk but he raised it slowly and surveyed the classroom.

But then one of the girls said it.

“She probably did it on purpose. Heard that’s how girls trap dudes like Saint Laurent. First the eyes, then the thighs.”

I couldn’t see his face at first, but I felt the change.

The class went quiet like someone turned the volume down on the world.

Then I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and then heavy footsteps.

And suddenly he was in the center of the room.

“Yo,” he barked, low and dangerous. “Whose mouth was that?”

Everyone froze.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just walked straight up to my desk, peeled off his hoodie, and tied it around my waist with careful, gentle fingers.

My breath caught.

“C’mon,” he said. Not loud. Not soft. Just for me.

“I—I can’t walk,” I whispered. “It hurts too much.”

Without another word, he bent down and lifted me up,bridal style, like I weighed nothing at all. Like I wasn’t bleeding through fabric and sweating from fever and shaking from pain.

The whole class stared.

The teacher didn’t even stop him. No one could.

He carried me through the hallway, down past open lockers and dumbfounded faces, like I was his whole world and he didn’t give a damn who saw.

“Laurent,” I whispered, cheeks burning. “People are staring.”

“I don’t care.”

“You could get detention ”

“Shut up.”

He walked fast, like he had somewhere to be and the only thing that mattered was getting me there safe. I buried my face in his chest, fighting the tears, not from pain this time, but from something softer. Something warmer.

When we got to the nurse’s office, he didn’t let go until the nurse came rushing.

“She’s burning up,” he said quickly. “I think she got cramps. Might be fever too.”

The nurse looked at him with wide eyes. “You brought her here?”

He didn’t answer.

Just gave me one last look.

Not his usual smirk. Not the bored, dangerous mask.

Just… concern.

“Rest, baby,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “I got you. I’m just need to do something real quick, okay?”

I nodded.

Then he walked away like he hadn’t just turned the world upside down.

————————————————————————-

Saint-Laurent

I didn’t go back to class.

Didn’t go to the courtyard. Didn’t check on Slim or any of the boys.

My whole body was fire.

I didn’t care what kind of pain Geni was in. Nobody. Nobody! Talks about her like that. Especially not with that slimy little laugh, like she was some kind of joke. Like she was trash they could toss around for fun. I wanted to rip somebody’s head off.

Nah.

Not today.

I walked right back to her class, slow and silent, like death in designer boots. I didn’t announce myself. Didn’t need to.

Soon as I stepped in, the room went quiet. No teacher. Just a sub flipping through his phone, eyes pretending not to see me.

I scanned the room.

Girls avoided my eyes. Boys straightened up. Micah looked like he wanted to disappear into the drywall.

But I wasn’t here for him.

I was here for her.

The one who ran her damn mouth.

She was sitting in the back row with a fake Gucci bag and a bad frontal wig. I didn’t look at her—yet. I looked at the class.

“Y’all ever seen a girl bleed out?” I asked, calm as ice. “Because that’s what’s gon’ happen to the person that said some dumb s**t about Genevieve.”

Silence.

Not one breath.

Not one whisper.

So I smiled. That smile. The one I wore when things were about to get ugly.

“I’ll make it real easy,” I said, pacing. “Geni’s name came up. And someone said she ‘used her thighs to trap dudes.’ Sound familiar?”

Still nothing.

“Alright,” I said, nodding like a teacher about to hand out pop quizzes. “Lemme ask it this way: y’all think I won’t find out who said it?”

Still silence.

Then I stopped right in front of the girl.

Didn’t need to say her name. Her hands were already shaking.

“You said it, didn’t you?” I asked, voice low and steady. I knew her voice. It was chirpy and annoying. Much like her person. “Thought it was cute?”

She opened her mouth. Probably to lie. Maybe to cry.

I didn’t let her.

“Lemme make this clear,” I said, leaning down slow. “I don’t hit girls. But I got sisters who do. Real eager ones too. But if you ever, and I mean ever, open that pretty mouth to talk about Genevieve like that again”

I leaned in closer. Whispered now.

“—I’ll put a bullet in your face so perfect, your mama won’t recognize you.”

She gasped.

I stood up straight, cracking my neck like I was bored now.

“She already got enough pain,” I said out loud. “She don’t need fake-ass females making it worse.”

Then I turned and walked out.

Not a single person moved.

Not a single person breathed.

I didn’t look back.

Because if I did, I might’ve made good on that threat.