Page 60 of Knox Academy Omnibus
One thing I have learned this week is that if a Knox is against you, everyone else seems to follow behind like sheep. I don’t know how I haven’t noticed before, maybe it’s because I didn’t care. Now I’m just the idiot with her feelings out there.
After my outburst in Miss Davis’ class I decided to find another SELF teacher. The class isn’t hard; the whole point of the class is to teach us about stupid things like social issues. Surely they would have to take into account that I’m Australian, and cultural differences would affect me differently, which is what I said in my assessment.
From the list of teachers, I picked Mr Boldon, he’s a younger teacher, early thirties maybe.
“Come in,” he says, looking up from his desk when I knock.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Saturday, Sir. I was wondering if I can have a moment of your time.”
“Sure, please take a seat.” He points to the chair. “What can I help you with?”
“I read in the student handbook that if a student is unhappy with a grade, that they can ask for a second opinion.” His face looks wary. I can imagine it wouldn’t be easy to go against another teacher. But I won’t let this slide. I will outsource a teacher if I have to. I considered going to Sawyer, but Maggie is his mum and I don’t want to be a completely shitty person. Besides, I’m not sure he could be completely impartial.
“You do understand that we do the second mark anonymously, then you take it to the headmaster.”
“I do, but sir, as a student who has never received a grade lower than a B in my entire schooling, I think an F is a little far from the mark.”
“Okay, email me the original paper. To be fair, I cannot see the marked version.” He scribbles down his email address. I thank him and head back to my room. I have some time to kill before I have to meet Slate and want to change from my uniform. Since we are meeting up at five I can wear something a little comfier.
Walking up to my dorm, I see the paint dripping down my door. Anger boils over the closer I get and I see the word ‘whore’ or what should say whore. A group of girls walk past and giggle.
“So funny!” I yell. That’s it. Kalenisgoing to listen to me. I don’t give a shit, this has gone on for far too long now.
I have no idea where he will be, I know he doesn’t have swimming until later. I make my way to the dining hall, hoping he might have called in on his way past for a snack.
The hall is busy with students stopping in for an afternoon snack. I steam roll my way through the room to his usual table. Onyx is sitting at the table with a few other buddies, ones I never bothered to ask about or care what their names are. I think I may have class with one girl at the table, Milly or Mandy. It’s definitely an M name.
“Where is he?” I snap, placing my hands down on the table in front of Onyx.
“You would have to be more specific, it’s hard to keep up with who you’re sniffing around these days.”
“Bollocks,” I say, realising one of the words Kalen taught me has stuck. “Kalen. Where is the damn asshole?”
“Why would we tell you?” the girl adds. Big mistake. I turn to her.
“Keep your mouth shut,” I seethe.
“From what I hear, you should be keeping yours shut. And your legs.”
I move to stand next to her. “Is that so? Are you jealous that you sit here, day in and day out for how long, and not one of the Knox brothers will touch you?”
“I would prefer to look desperate than actuallybedesperate and fuck Baxter.” I see red, talking is over. Sawyer may have taught me actual self defence. But Aadi and Smalls taught me to scrap. To get dirty.
She doesn’t expect my sudden movement, so it makes it easier for me to grab the back of her head and to forcefully slam her face down on to the table and hold it there. Blood sprays, but it’s probably just a busted nose. She looks like a spoilt rich girl so daddy will probably pay for a nose job anyway.
“Tell me where he is,” I demand, ignoring the girl squealing beneath my hand. I keep the pressure on her head as I stare down at Onyx. He just smiles. It’s a twisted kind of smile, like he’s loving the show.
“He went to the library,” he smirks.
“Thanks,” I say sweetly and release the girl who spits profanities and blood at me. Surely that outburst will get me a detention. I don’t give a fuck.
On cue, Onyx slides a detention card across the table towards me. He knows I’m up and running with him on Saturdaymornings, and that Sawyer and his kids in detention generally join us.
“Keep it. I’ll already be there, my whoring ways can’t keep me away.” A laugh slips from his lips and at that I walk away.
My pace quickens when the library comes in sight. Damn him for not being somewhere I can yell; it’s in my blood to be loud and theatrical, just ask my Nonna. She would say it’s my birth right.
Kalen is predictable, I know exactly where to look, I head straight to the spot where he saw me with Baxter, and low and behold he is there, talking - should I say flirting - with a fourth year.
