“He can cut his own food, Thea.”
It was only then that I realized I had been cutting Damian’s meatball. Mom had made her mega meatballs; they were the size of a cat’s head. A quarter pound of her deliciously seasoned ground beef and I was leaning over his plate cutting his like he was four. My cheeks instantly warmed as I not so gracefully removed my offending limbs from his personal space.
Glancing at him, those pale eyes were looking back. “Sorry. I...they’re just so big.” I wanted to fade into the wallpaper. Cutting his meatball? What was wrong with me?
He didn’t say anything, but his lips tilted up just slightly and in response my heart pounded so hard it should have cracked my ribs. His beautiful lips parted and he spoke his first words to me. “Thank you, Thea.”
Three words and I was a goner. I didn’t understand what I felt for this boy nor did I appreciate the uniqueness of it at the time, but I did know that little smile and those three words was all it took for Damian Tate to claim a piece of me that I would never get back.
I was pretty sure when Dad put me in self-defense class, the intent was not to use my newfound skills on catty bitches. However, I was very close to doing just that. Brittany and Taylor, the banes of my existence, ate mean girls for breakfast. I understood the psychology behind why they were horrid little douchebags. They liked Cam, but I had encouraged him to stay at arm’s-length because with the amount of action they saw it was anyone’s guess what was growing in them or on them. Apparently, they didn’t have a problem with being sluts, but they didn’t like people calling them that. Their relentless passive-aggressive shit had started at the end of last year. I would have much preferred them punching me in the face. Sure it would hurt like hell, I might even suffer a broken nose, but the stories I could tell. More importantly, they’d get over their vendetta. Instead, I got smiles from one side of their mouths and sneers from the other. Cat scratches from manicured nails. Today was no different. Taylor’s locker was just a few down from mine; how was that for crappy luck. It was daily that I was subjected to their particular brand of torture.
“Are you using a new hair product, Thea? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen hair quite that full before,” Taylor called from her locker, loud enough a few kids passing by snickered.
“Full enough for small animals to get lost in.” Brittany was a sidekick. She never had an original thought. Her only skill was to parrot off others.
Yes, my hair was a bit unruly with spiral curls but I liked it. It wasn’t frizzy, except during times of high humidity where it morphed into a terrifying sight, it was just curly. I ignored them and continued to swap out my books.
“I’d suggest you cut it, but then it’ll stick out all over your head. Maybe you should wear a hat.”
Taylor used a flat iron on her blonde tresses. Every strand was in perfect place. I’d like a minute alone with her flat iron and her perfect blonde hair.
“I don’t know that they make hats big enough for all that.” Brittany’s laugh sounded more like a cackle. Her dig wasn’t even funny; it was an observation and a stupid one at that. I wasn’t even getting bullied by clever repartee.
I sensed the change in the air before I heard Taylor’s sharp inhale. Seconds later my entire body grew warm, and since there was only one person who could get a reaction like that from me, I knew Damian was close. I didn’t realize how close until I closed my locker and saw him leaning against them. He didn’t say anything, just stared, and that was okay with me because I couldn’t form a thought even if I wanted to. He then reached for a curl and rubbed the strands between his fingers. It took me longer than it should have to realize what he was doing and my heart just melted in my chest. He was defending me, without speaking a word he was calling out my tormentors. I fell just a little bit in love with him in that moment.
The bell rang. Damian playfully tugged on the strand he still held, then winked and walked off. How I wanted to walk off with him, find an empty classroom or closet, I wasn’t picky. When I managed to pull my gaze from his departing form, I saw that Taylor and Brittany stood there with dropped jaws; staring at me in disbelief.
I purposely fluffed my hair—Pantene would be calling to get me into one of their commercials—before I said, “Yeah…” I let my eyes wander down the hall in the direction Damian had gone. “I’m thinking no on the hat.” Then I walked away, whistling as I did.
The movie was terrifying as I curled myself up on the end of the sofa. I wanted a blanket, but I didn’t want the others to know I was scared.