Page 16 of Savage Salvation

“Kins, rehearsal is the payment, so I’m not accepting the money.”

“Then I’m not accepting my place at rehearsal tonight. And you can find someone else to play lead.”

Isaac’s arms hang down at his sides. With his head tilted down, his eyes look up to me. “I should’ve known I never stood a chance.”

We both resume our walk to class which feels more like a trek on a shaky plank over a sea of shark-infested water.

“Switch seats with me.”

There’s a second where I think he will concede, but Isaac shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“Of course. That all-important IOU is still in progress.”

His pace speeds up, hurrying to drop into his newly Gage-appointed seat as I step to the table where the asshat sits reclined in the chair next to mine. He looks straight ahead, not acknowledging my arrival. My relief quickly disappears at the sound of my chair’s metal legs scraping across the floor. Gravity being what it is and the fact that my ass is midway to my seat, I’m thrown off balance when I go to grab the table. I end up empty-handed as a harsh grip clasps my forearm, hauling me to the side. In the blink of an eye, Gage has kicked my chair out from under me and is now clutching the nape of my neck as my knees hit the solid floor in front of him with a hard whack.

It takes me a few seconds to steady my breath as my eyes lock in a stare down with the idiot looking down to me. As I push up to rise off my knees, his hold tightens, his lips splitting into a jubilant grin. His next move is to pull me forward, and reflexively, my hands dart out, grasping his thighs. Catching my balance, I can’t let go fast enough, but my face is way too close to the dickhead’s crotch. There’s little question whether he’s enjoying this or not.

“Don’t be shy now. Open that pretty mouth of yours.” Gage snickers as I hear Isaac say my name from behind me. Gage looks up, shooting him a murderous glare. I know my friend will remain in his seat and not interfere. And that’s fine by me. I need to teach this bastard a lesson.

“Try it and your dick will suffer the same fate your lip did outside.” His tongue lightly moves over the spot on his lip that I bit when he kissed me. And I’m not sure if he’s serious about his intention, but I will follow through on mine.

“Mr. Hawthorne. It’s time for class to begin.” Polski issues a weak attempt at intervention which is instantly shot down.

“Start class,” Gage responds. “We don’t mind. Do we, Kinsley?”

And of all the things Mr. Chickenshit does, he starts announcing today’s assignment. Unbelievable. How is it that during this escapade he’ll start teaching on time, but any other day he rearranges things around his desk for the first half of the class?

A few whispers and a whoop (from Ryan I’m guessing) sound around the room, and I don’t have to wonder where the class’s attention is because Gage’s stunt is obviously more entertaining than our incompetent teacher. My fingers crawl across the floor, feeling around until I find my bag and cling to it.

“Get your hands off of me. Now.”

Nothing. No movement aside from the gleam increasing in his eye at the satisfaction of having me on my knees, humiliating me in front of everyone. Only, this isn’t humiliating, it’s validating what I already knew. There’s nothing good inside of him.

“This is your last warning. Hands off.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a little taste of what’s to come?”

“No. But I’ll give you one.” My fingers grip the pencil that I found in my bag. Pulling it out, I swiftly swing my arm, aiming for the nearest body part. The pencil’s sharpened point plunges into the side of his left thigh.

His hold on me remains, only slightly easing, but it’s enough for me to break free and stand. Not taking my focus off the vile creature, I note there’s only surprise on his face—barely a flinch, not a bit of the pain I’d hoped to see. He keeps a keen eye on me, too, yanking the pencil out of his flesh before holding it up and tossing it on the table.

“The crazy bitch stabbed you,” Ryan shouts, astonished like I’m the insane one.

Other students jump out of their seats, moving closer to where I stand. Gage remains seated all the while, a satisfied expression masking his callousness. I should’ve stabbed him in the eye. Or maybe the chest. Bloodsucking vampires need a stake to the heart. Does Gage Hawthorne even have a heart?

12

Gage

Principal Cabot looks between me and Kinsley. She’s seated in a chair about two feet away, her body turned in the opposite direction from me. I have to hand it to her. I’m not shocked often, but her stabbing me in the leg definitely took me by surprise. I’m kinda proud of her.

Cabot brings his hands up, rubbing his fingers across his greasy forehead. “I don’t quite understand what happened or how it escalated to this level of violence.”

“It escalated because I have bigger balls than the instructor, who did nothing to put a stop to this asshat’s tirade—as usual.”

Cabot shifts awkwardly in his chair. “Mr. Polski assured me that he did everything in his power to defuse the situation.”

“Yeah. Look the other way, like all the staff bitches do for the entitled hellions at this godforsaken school. Including you.”