Chapter Twenty-One
So, no breakfast. I ran away from Quinn as fast as I could, and now I’m sitting in Professor Thiel’s class waiting for everyone else to show up. I never thought that I would take refuge in here, but I have to hide out somewhere. I have to get away from the other students and I hope that being in a classroom is the best way for me to protect myself.
I just hope that I’m not wrong.
By the time that everyone else files in, my stomach has been rumbling so loudly that Professor Thiel comments on it. “You know, Abigail, you need to eat breakfast in the morning if you’re going to keep from being a distraction in class. Run along to the cafeteria and grab something, then get back here as quickly as possible.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice, and I dart out of the room as quickly as possible while making sure not to make eye contact with any other student.
The cafeteria is completely empty when I walk in, and I run over to the food to get something to eat. There’s still some bread and jam out, and I make a quick sandwich and grab an orange for later. If breakfast was any indication, I have a pretty good idea that I may not be welcome back in the cafeteria for a while.
The thought is terrifying.
They could starve me out. If I can’t eat then I’m surely going to have to leave Trinity Prep, right? This is what occupies my thoughts as I take my time walking back to Professor Thiel’s class. The problem is that without access to food I’m not going to last more than a few days here.
Sliding into my chair, I reach down to slip my orange into my backpack, but it’s not there. Surprised, I turn in my seat, looking for it, but it’s not kicked behind me, either. It’s gone, and I swear that I brought it to class with me.
Professor Thiel is in the middle of explaining the difference between cash-basis accounting and accrual-basis accounting, but I raise my hand anyway, giving it a little wave when he doesn’t immediately stop talking and look at me.
“Excuse, me, sir?” Calling out to him is what makes him finally sigh and turn to me. I know that he’d seen me raise my hand, but he wasn’t going to let me interrupt him until he had to.
“Abigail. Is there another problem you wish to discuss?” He asks, sighing obviously as he does.
“Yes, sir. My backpack was here when I left for the cafeteria, but it’s missing.”
He doesn’t say anything in response, so I try again.
“I think that someone took my backpack while I was gone.” The entire class is quiet behind me. Nobody dares to move or make a sound, but that doesn’t make me feel any more confident that they aren’t the ones behind taking my stuff.
It was Quinn, I have no doubt.
“And you’re accusing one of your classmates?” Professor Thiel sounded bored before, but now he sounds a little excited.
Does everyone here get off on fucking with other people?
“I’m just saying that it’s odd that it was here…and now it’s not.” I spread out my hands to make my point.
“Do you have a student you want to accuse?” Professor Thiel crosses his arms and leans back on his desk like he’s really enjoying this. My face burns as I think about turning around and pointing right at Quinn.
Although, with the way that things are going now, who knows who it was? If he’s really managed to turn everyone in the class against me then it could be anyone.
I don’t know how to handle that.
“I don’t. I don’t know who it was, but I know that someone here has it. We could just ask everyone to come up and look for it, if that works for you.” It’s a last-ditch attempt for help, and he and I both know it.
“Listen, Abigail. I’m sorry that you misplaced your backpack, but I’m not going to invade the privacy of the rest of the class to try to make you feel better about it. It’s not their fault that you can’t seem to hang onto your possessions, so let’s continue.” He turns his back on me and continues teaching.
That’s that.
I really have nobody here who will help me.
Crossing my arms, I sit back in my desk. No paper, no pencils, and my homework is definitely gone forever. If the god of Trinity Prep and his fucking followers really want to drive me out of their school then they’re doing a damn good job of it already.
***
The next week is the same. I had to redo all of the assignments that I’d already completed for class, which was a nightmare since my wrist still hurts every time I touch it. Honestly, I’m beginning to think that I made a mistake trying to stick it out with my broken wrist. I have no idea how I’m going to keep up in my class, especially art.
Mr. Stanfield practically ignores me. The way that he fawns over Quinn is enough to make me sick. It’s one day while he’s extolling the virtues of the techniques that Quinn used that I make up my mind.
Sure, they can do their best to keep me from eating in the cafeteria. And throw mud at me in the quad. Corner me in the bathroom. Steal my backpack.
But who’s to say that I can’t fight back? It won’t be pretty and it sure as hell won’t be easy, but I’m done just laying down and taking whatever they want to dish out for me.
I may look scared on the outside, but on the inside, I’m
