Page 47 of Under His Protection
“She’s not interested, pal,” Jasmine says as she pops a fry in her mouth. “Get lost.”
“I’m not talking to you,” the guy says to Jasmine. Then he turns his attention back to Layla, only this time, he finds Jason standing behind her, his hands on Layla’s shoulders.
“Leave,” Jason says. “Now.”
“I’m not talking to you either,” the guy says to Jason. Then to Layla, he says, “What’s the big deal? I just wanted to be polite and say hi. Call off your attack dogs.”
Jasmine and I both snicker. Tom just poked the bear.
Jason moves fast. A moment later, he’s standing behind Tom’s chair, and he has one of Tom’s arms wrenched back and pinned behind him. Very calmly, he says, “Unless you want me to break your arm, get up and walk away.”
Tom’s face screws up in pain, but he doesn’t utter a sound. Instead, he pushes his chair back and stands. Jason releases his arm, and Tom walks away without a backward glance.
“Are you okay?” Jason asks Layla as he takes the seat Tom just vacated.
She nods but doesn’t say anything.
Jason reaches for Layla’s hand. “I think we’d better call it a day, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies.
We say our goodbyes. Everyone hugs, including Jason, and we all go our separate ways.
I have an hour to kill before my chem lab, so I decide to drop off my history and chem lecture textbooks to lighten my load. When I reach my floor, I stop in the mailroom to check my cubby.
It’s jammed packed with junk mail as usual. Today, I have two different credit card applications. This time there’s an invitation to sign up for life insurance.Hello!I’m only eighteen. I hardly need life insurance yet, right?
I pull out the rest of the items in my cubby and see something unexpected underneath it all—a single red rose.
My first thought is Philip put it there, but I realize that’s impossible. He hasn’t been here since Saturday.
I reach for it and end up pricking my finger on a thorn as I pull it out. “Ouch!”
I peek into some of the other cubbies to see if anyone else got a rose, but I don’t see any other than mine.
On my way out of the mailroom, I drop the rose into the trash can. My finger stings, and as I walk upstairs to drop off my textbooks, I suck the drop of blood off my index finger.
When I reach my room, I take out my little first aid kit—thanks, Mom. I wash my fingertip, put on some antibiotic ointment, and wrap it in a bandage to keep it clean.
I stay in my room a while, sitting at my desk and staring out the window at the campus green space. My fingertip is throbbing, and the pain is proof that I didn’t imagine that rose in my mailbox.
Soon it’s time to head to my chem lab class. When I exit the building, I hear someone call my name. I turn and see Andrea and Christian jogging my way.
“Haley!” Andrea is a bit out of breath. “Are you heading to class? We’ll walk with you.”
“That would be great.” I mean it. I’d feel better walking with a couple of friendly faces. Andrea and Christian are two of only a handful of people on campus I know by name.
Andrea and I walk together, and Christian brings up the rear. He’s watching videos on his phone, and it’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t trip or run into someone.
I find myself scanning my surroundings as if looking for someone watching me.
“Is everything okay?” Andrea asks.
“Yes. Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem a bit nervous.”
“Sorry. It’s been a rough day.”
