Page 26 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

Locklier High was a twenty-minute drive from where we lived. I spent every second of it counting my breaths while Quentin held my hand. Miguel sat in the back seat, his hand on my shoulder, keeping my anxiety from completely overtaking me.

I glanced down at the outfit I’d chosen. A simple pair of blue jeans, Miguel’s black Chucks, and a white button-down shirt. “Are you sure this is okay?” I asked no one in particular. Quentin thought I should wear the skirt he’d gotten me for my birthday.

“Fuck ’em all, pretty girl. If anyone says anything, I’ll pound their faces in.”

The idea of him getting into a brawl over me, or of someone singling me out because of my clothes, had caused me to hyperventilate. The headache and dizziness that hit me out of nowhere reminded me of other times when I felt too stressed to cope, times when I wanted to run away, to escape.

Miguel talked me down, his voice the rope I’d grabbed onto. Quentin stepped in, squeezing my shoulders and calling my name. He’d given me the strength to pull on the rope Miguel provided.

“You look fine,” Miguel said, leaning between the front seats now. “Just a typical guy.”

Quentin glanced at him before focusing on the road again. I understood what they didn’t say. I was awkward and pretty—according to them. No matter what I wore, I’d stand out.

I’d wanted to cut my hair, but Miguel drew the line at that. Secretly, I was happy he did. I liked the way they loved my hair too much to cut it.

Why can’t we all just be homeschooled together? I wanted to ask. It would’ve been unfair, though. Quentin had football, and Miguel wanted to be wherever he was. I’d just need to face this, to remember that Miguel was my rope, and Quentin the strength I needed to pull.

I closed my eyes and began praying everything would work out.

“We’re here,” Quentin said. I opened my eyes in time to see him pull into the school parking lot.

There were tons of students outside. Some stood around talking, others gripping their backpacks as they hurried to the building.

School buses formed a line near the front entrance, and kids filed out, greeting the faculty waiting there before hurrying inside as well.

All the activity made my stomach clench.

The sound of paper rustling brought my attention back to Quentin. He pointed down at the wrinkled schedule. “You and Miguel share the same homeroom and first period. I’ll walk you guys to homeroom in the mornings and then meet up with you for second period.”

Quentin and I had second, third, and fourth periods together.

“After that, Quentin will walk you to our fifth period,” Miguel said. I was on my own for sixth period. “Sixth period will be a breeze. Everyone’s antsy by then. They’ll be too busy watching the bell to focus on you. Just grab a corner seat in the back.”

“My last class is PE,” I reminded him.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Even better. They’ll be too busy running circuits or dribbling balls. You’ll be fine. And my last class is close to the gym, so I’ll be there as soon as you step into the hall. Okay?”

“The three of us share the same lunch period,” Quentin said, “and we’re allowed to leave the school premises.

We can grab burgers at the Sonic down the street.

” He held up the forged parental waivers giving us permission to leave during lunch.

We wouldn’t have needed to forge them if his dad and my aunt had bothered to sign them for us before our first day of school.

“And feel free to throw my name around,” Quentin added.

“Will I need to?”

“No.” Miguel cut off whatever Quentin was about to say. “Stop scaring him.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Come on.” Miguel handed us our backpacks. “We’ve got ten minutes to make it to homeroom, and we still have to stop at our lockers.”

Quentin turned the engine off, winking at me before getting out. Miguel waited for me to step out before exiting from the back.

I held on to the straps of my backpack like they were a life raft as we joined the students heading inside. Quentin and Miguel flanked me, and luckily, no one seemed to notice we existed yet. That changed as soon as we stepped inside.

Locker doors slammed from every direction, a cluster of girls squealed as they group-hugged, voices buzzed, and the stampeding of feet up and down the stairwells raised the noise level higher than I was used to.

Teachers began breaking up conversations, directing students to where they needed to be.

“Five minutes until the bell rings,” someone yelled through a bullhorn, startling me.

“That’s the principal,” Miguel said. “Everyone calls him Mr. Ballbuster.”

“Yeah, he can smell fun from a mile away,” Quentin joked as we moved through the crowd of people. As if some secret announcement that the three of us couldn’t hear had been made, the attention turned to us.

Loud conversations lowered to whispers as students tapped their friends and pointed at us. Miguel and Quentin closed in tighter until their bodies brushed against mine. I tried to catch Quentin’s gaze for reassurance, but he was too busy glaring down at everyone we passed.

“Fuck around and find out,” he said to no one in particular. That seemed to shake everyone out of their trances.

“New kids are always fascinating. They’ll forget about you in minutes,” Miguel said, trying to make me feel better about all the gawking.

“Oh, here’s my locker.” He opened it using the combination of numbers printed at the top of his schedule, then dumped his books inside. “What’s your locker number again?”

I slipped my bag off, pulling my schedule from the side flap. “Twenty-four.”

“That’s right down here,” Miguel said, leading the way. He ran through how to lock and unlock it twice before helping me unload the books I wouldn’t need until later. Quentin kept his back to us, his stance wide, playing bodyguard.

“You good?” he asked as Miguel and I prepared to separate from him.

I took a deep breath, tucking a loose strand from my braid behind my ear. “Yeah, I think so.”

He looked at Miguel next.

“I’m good too. I’m gonna miss you.” They stepped closer, like they were going to hug each other, then stopped. “See you after homeroom,” Miguel said.

“Yeah, okay.” Quentin turned to me. “Anyone fucks with you, tell them you’re mine.”

I peered around to make sure no one heard him, and he chuckled before walking away.

Telling me to say we were friends would’ve worked well too, but he and Miguel had such an odd way of phrasing things.

I liked it when we were alone, but now I worried it would somehow bring more attention to me.

I admired how little they cared about what people thought of them.

Maybe I would too after getting used to this new environment.

Homeroom didn’t last long. We took attendance and listened to a few important announcements over the intercom system. First period was a lot scarier because we hadn’t gotten there in time to get a seat in the back.

“Next time we won’t wait for Quentin to walk us,” Miguel whispered as we took the two remaining seats in the front.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on my back, and my whole body heated with embarrassment when a girl asked, “Is he praying?” She’d said it loud enough for everyone else to hear.

I didn’t realize I’d brought my palms together when I’d closed my eyes. The rest of the class laughed as I slid my hands beneath the table and looked helplessly at Miguel.

The teacher ordered everyone to quiet down. Miguel turned, shoving his glasses up his nose as he stared them all down.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to hide from the world with Quentin and Miguel.

I barely made it through my last period.

I was alone and opted out of changing into my PE uniform and participating.

A group of guys watched me, whispering as they ran up and down the basketball court.

The larger one’s name was Dexter. I remembered him raising his hand when his name was called during attendance. Dexter Delaney.

The girls watched me too, but their stares seemed more curious, not calculating like the guys.

Our PE teacher informed me, in front of the whole class, that I’d received a zero for the day.

Since I didn’t have to change, I grabbed my backpack and hurried into the hall while everyone else headed for the locker rooms. The three guys followed me out, still wearing their gym uniforms.

“Hey, your name’s Elliott, right?” Dexter asked. We still had a full minute before the bell rang, so the halls weren’t swarming with people yet. I was supposed to wait for Miguel and Quentin outside the gym doors, but I continued toward my locker to get away from Dexter and his friends.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude not to speak when being spoken to?” the second biggest of the three asked. I couldn’t remember his name. They all chuckled at that. “I think someone needs to teach the pretty redhead some manners.”

I picked up my pace, and so did they.

“Hey, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. No need to be a dick about it.”

I didn’t know who’d said that. By then my head was swimming, and I was pretty sure I’d bumped into a crowd of students exiting a class.

The halls were filling up quickly now, and I weaved through people, no longer sure where I was headed. I found my locker, fumbling with the combination when Dexter slammed a hand down on it.

“We really need to tell Ballbuster to stop letting the weirdos in, don’t we, Chad?”

“Fucking A,” Chad said.

“Are you even one of us?” Dexter flicked my braid over my shoulder. “You sure as fuck don’t look like one of us. I’m not sure we feel comfortable with you in our locker room. Do we, guys?”

“Hey! Leave him alone.” Miguel’s voice came from somewhere behind me. The next thing I knew, Quentin had Dexter off his feet and slammed against the wall of lockers. He leaned in close to him, the hand around Dexter’s neck tightening.