Page 38 of A Dead Man's B-Side
“So, you punch me?!”
“I was knocking!” August’s rushed and placating words only made me hate him more. If it had been Wolf, he’d be pummeled into the ground before he could get the first word out. But August was… August. Weak and childish.
His fist said otherwise.
I think that might’ve been one of the reasons I couldn’t help but find this entire ordeal unbelievable.
A secret society that would consider August Myro as its prime candidate.
It was a joke.
And yet there I was, jacket hung over my arms preparing for the outdoor cold.
I groaned, and my head fell forward. Thankfully, I could tell he hadn’t broken anything, but the ache made me sluggish.
I blinked a few times, forcing my teary eyes back into focus, and massaged my facial muscles. To August’s right, I could hear a high-pitched huff of breath that turned into a snicker.
Now he was getting it.
I lifted my head and found Wolf with a hand over his mouth, but despite the modest attempt at hiding his humour, I lunged for him.
“All day you have been a thorn at my side.” Grabbing at the lapels of his coat, the quick shock of my actions turned his eyes wide, and wiped any amusement left off of his face.
He tried pushing me off with a grunt, but Wolf was, despite his weak attempts not to be, a coddled boy. “Get off me! It was funny–”
“Guys!” August tried cutting in, grabbing for me, but I paid him no mind, and he made no difference to the situation.
Weak, as I said.
Wolf tried shoving me off, but all that had gotten him was out of breath.
“So, we should share the laugh, shouldn’t we?” I seethed and held him against the opposite wall with one hand, rearing back the other, set on breaking at least one bone.
I could see the fear in his comically wide eyes as he tried his best to grab for my fist.
Wolf and I didn’t have anything in common, and if we did, I wouldn’t like to be around him long enough to find out. In fact, I was sure he would get us all in trouble by the end of the night with his insistence on this quest.
My plans on becoming a model student were crumbling right in front of me.
My fist curled as I held it in the air, my nails pressing against my palm, burning, almost cutting.
August came around and held onto my hand in a vice grip, almost climbing me in the process. “Alright, I-I think we should just-just calm down. Alright? Let’s just calm down.”
I would have finished the job had August’s words not made me think twice. Well, not August, he couldn’t clear or cloud my judgment if he tried. But the moment of clarity, hidden behind acloud of unreleased tension, brought forth the reality that something had been nagging me since detention. Something that made me irritated with every look and every word out of Wolf’s mouth.
His mere presence was beginning to bother me.
Silence filled the hall once more, and I was surprised no one had come out from the commotion. Slowly, very slowly, I lowered my fist, that August was still holding onto; it took me shaking him off for him to get the hint and step a few paces back.
Wolf had his head against the wall, almost as though he wished to disappear through it. His eyes were almost looking through me when I let him go. I uncurled my fists and expected him to straighten, but he didn’t move. I looked down and shoved my shaking hands into the pockets of my jacket, forcing my limbs into a false sense of calm.
Glancing back up, Wolf still hadn’t moved from where he stood slumped. His eyes were still wide, almost too wide, with a wild look in them as he appeared lost in a trance. It took August placing a hand on his shoulder to flinch him back to life.
He looked from August to his hand on his shoulder before turning to me.
I waited for him to remember his hurt ego, to lash out and shout the building down. But instead, he only took a moment to run his tongue over his lips. “I’m sorry. I was wrong for finding humour in your pain.”
I scrunched my face in annoyed confusion, but he only held out his hand. “Are we good?”
