What's the Worst thing I can Say?

"You really make me laugh, kid," he breathed between small chuckles. " I do enjoy it."

I didn't dare to rotate my head, but I recognized that voice. It was the same male voice at the coffee shop, the teen with the slick blonde hair and a hasty smell of cologne. I stood silently in the center of the hallways, slowly shuffling my feet somewhat closer to the art room. My efforts failed as I felt the teen's hand grip into my shoulder. Horrified, I fixed my gaze upon him with an unsteady vision. My Sabbath tee is pulled by his intense grasp and my back was slammed into a metallic surface: the lockers. This process repeated several times.

"Michael, you'll get us in trouble!" a female voice scolded him. This was the same girl who had started pouring her coffee unto me in the shop. He responded with a grunt, but tried to negotiate with her. "Zoe, let me just finish what I started," he teased.

This was going to take a while. Instead of returning to the art room, I ran. Straight out of the school.

Notes

New Chapter!