Page 194 of Always Love You More

“Help her up,” the person behind me shouts, and I watch as two boys help Juliette to her feet. “And somebody go get the nurse.”

People start rushing around us, and I spot Mr. Garcia, the SRO, pushing through the cafeteria doors.

Fuck.

He stops in front of us, his gaze moving past me. “I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you going to stay calm if I let you go?” the person behind me questions.

I nod.

He shifts, and I suddenly find my history teacher, Mr. Martin, standing in front of me, a look of disappointment on his face. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does. He’s one of the only teachers in this school I actually like.

I look from him to Juliette. She’s covering her face with her hands, her friends fussing around her.

Mr. Garcia moves in front of me just as the nurse flies into the room, going right for Juliette.

“Sam,” he says, dragging my attention back to him. He stares down at me, a scowl on his face. “You gonna make this difficult?”

I shake my head, and he motions to the door. Grabbing my bag, I start moving, my body tense as he follows closely behind me.

Once we’re out in the hall, the fog of what just happened begins to clear, and I realize fully what I’ve done.

My steps falter, and Garcia’s voice sounds from behind me to keep moving.

The closer we get to the principal’s office, the more I begin to panic, worried that I’ve finally pushed it too far this time.

“I’ve gotta pee,” I blurt out, turning to face him.

Garcia’s lips thin, like he doesn’t believe me, but he nods toward the closest bathroom and mutters, “I’ll be right outside. You’ve got two minutes.”

Quickly, I push into the bathroom, grateful to find it empty. I move over to the sink and fish through my bag, grabbing my phone and dialing Jameson’s number.

“Come on, come on. Pick up,” I breathe as it continues to ring. When I get his voicemail, I slam my hand down on the sink. “Shit!”

I step back, pacing, when the phone begins to ring.

“Jamie,” I say, my voice frantic.

“What happened?” he answers immediately. “You okay?”

“I fucked up, Jamie. I really fucked up this time. And I don’t know what—”

“Slow down,” he cuts in. “Just tell me what happened, all right? And we’ll fix it.”

I blow out a breath, trying to calm myself. “Yeah, all right.”

When I still don’t say anything, he pushes, “You’re freaking me out, baby. You’ve gotta tell me what happened.”

“I …” I swallow. “I smashed this girl’s face with my lunch tray, and I’m pretty sure I broke her nose.”

“What’d she do?”

“Huh?”

“To make you smash her in the face?” he asks, his voice lethal.

“She took my pudding and—”