🔸Hailey's POV🔸

My morning couldn't have been slower. As soon as the bell rings for lunch, I'm scooting out the door. People run into me more than once, a smirk on their faces, their message loud and clear. I'm nothing but an outcast to them, practically invisible, and at the same time they notice me everywhere I go. My nickname spreads like wildfire — oh the irony — and boys up and down the hallway are catcalling for the Recluse.

I rush to my locker and shove my books inside, barely having time to grab my lunch before someone slams my locker door shut. It's Flash again, his eyes still watching me hungrily. "Can I carry your lunch, Recluse Hailey? It'll be safe in my hands." He winks at me.

I am about to tell him where I'd rather put my lunch — hint: it would have made him squirm for a month — but Peter shows up next to me again. "Leave her alone, Flash." His hand rests on my shoulder, making me jump at the contact. So much for not being a touchy-feely person.

"And let you nerds have all the fun?" Flash inclines his head towards Peter and Ned. "I don't think so."

He stretches his hand toward mine but Peter knocks it away, steering me away with a firm hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."

We reach the cafeteria and pick a spot at an empty table. The girl from before — Michelle — is sitting at the next table over, and I have half a mind to invite her to sit with us. I probably would have, too, if hadn't been for the scowl she gave me before sticking her nose back in her book. What a cheerful person.

We eat lunch in silence, ignoring the jeers from Flash's table. He keeps talking about how the new girl — aka me — is a Brown Recluse that's poisonous and all kinds of crap. I don't let it get to me. Far worse things have been said and done to me than his little Brown Recluse joke.

Peter acts nonchalant about it, seeing as he's probably been harassed himself, but keeps fidgeting and clenching his hands. His eyebrow twitches slightly as he listens to Ned talk about his newest LEGO kit — "It's even better than the Death Star!" — but seems distant. "You should come over so we can work on it."

Ned nods his head excitedly. I am sure that if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging back and forth at ninety miles an hour. Instead of barking like I would've expected, he says, "And we can talk about other things."

The way he says "things" makes me arch my brow. "What things? Your porn mags?"

"I don't read or watch that stuff!" Peter exclaims.

I blow air through my nose in a laughing sort of way. "You're one of the few teenage boys I know that doesn't. So if it's not that, then what things are you talking about?"

"Um, my, uh, computer stuff," Peter says, clearly lying through his teeth.

I shrug and drop the subject, going back to listen to what kind of stuff Flash is talking about now. His whole table is laughing at something he had said, their loud guffaws clearly aimed at me. Just because I refused his advances, he made me a laughingstock. What a jerk.

"Say, don't you have Decathlon stuff?" I ask Peter, putting down my sandwich.

He freezes up and nervously takes a sip of his water. "Um, I forgot that it was for tomorrow, not today."

"Uh-huh." I take a swig of water. "That might work on other people, but not me. You weren't studying Decathlon stuff last night, were you?"

"Y-Yes I was." Peter fidgets in his seat, shooting a nervous glance at Ned.

Ned's eyes widen in realization. "I went over to his place yesterday and we were up late studying!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his horrible attempt at a lie. "That's not true. I was with Peter most of the day, and I didn't see you anywhere." I turn my eyes on Peter, who visibly gulps. "What are you hiding, Peter?"

There is a palpable tension in the air that is quickly broken by Michelle's phone blaring out Umbrella by Rihanna. This only makes Peter sweat more. [A/N: watch me break the fourth wall guys lol] He opens and closes his mouth multiple times before the bell rings, signaling lunch is over and it's time for next period. He packs up his lunch and urges me to hurry, saying we only have five minutes to get to Robotics class.

I pack up my lunch and frown to myself. Saved by the bell for now, but next time, I won't let him go so easily.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, filled with jabs from Flash and all my teachers hovering over my shoulder to gauge my level of understanding. The final bell rings at the end of Chemistry and I once again rush out of the classroom, Peter and Ned trailing after me.

Peter looks uncomfortable leaving me at my locker alone with Flash and his cronies hanging around, but after I give him a blank stare he heads to his locker farther down the hallway.

I take the spare time at my locker to put up a few pictures I had brought with me from home. One was of my parents and I when was eight. My face is split in a goofy grin and front two teeth are missing. That Christmas I had truly only wanted my two front teeth. The other picture is the one I had taken of Steven with his guitar in hand. He was frozen mid laugh in the picture, his smile wide and body relaxed.

"Who's that, your boyfriend?" Flash snatches the picture from my hand and begins showing it to his football friends. They all laugh at the way I flush in embarrassment and jump to get the picture back. Flash holds it above his head and makes me stretch as much as I can to reach it, but it's still not enough. I'm tempted to shimmy up him like he's a tree but he lowers it, gripping it in both hands. He reads the back of it, telling his buddies Steven's name and the date the picture was taken. He taunts me with it a few more times before ripping it right down the middle.

"Oops," he says, feigning innocence and watching the two halves float down to the floor in front of my feet. "Poor Steven."

That's when I snap. It takes a lot to make me mad, and even more to make me mad enough to attack a whole football team. But ripping my best picture of Steven in half is enough to make me get so mad I'd take on a football team and a half a million soldiers without batting an eye.

My fist connects with his jaw a split second after the halves hit the floor. I don't hit him nearly hard as I would've liked to, I probably would've killed him if I had, but it's enough to send him to the ground. "Don't you dare say his name, you stuck up pig." I throw in a few more colorful names before his football buddies shove me up against the lockers, my toes dangling several inches off the ground.

I'm about to give them a piece of my mind — and fist — as well when Peter grabs the one on my left by the back of the coat and hauls him off me, the two of them tumbling to the ground. Another jockey takes his place, keeping me suspended above the ground. I lift my knees, hitting them both in the groin. They yelp in pain release me, falling to their knees in pain.

"Should've kept your cups on from practice, boys," I smirk as another jockey rushes me. Two hundred pounds of raw meat slams into me. I guess they didn't really care if I got hurt. How ungentleman-like. I'm shoved against the lockers again with a loud crunch as the metal dents, the sharp handles digging into my back as I claw at my attacker's face.

By now, Flash has stumbled to his feet and is clutching his now broken jaw. He mumbles something that's not understandable, his eyes blazing with fury. He stands in front of me, his fist clenching at his side. If I had been a boy, he would undoubtedly be slamming his fist into my face by now. But he hesitates instead, which is his mistake. His hand is cupping is jaw, but unlike him and his crony that's holding me up, my hands are free.

Taking his hesitation and using it to my advantage, I slap his crony on both sides of his head with my hands, stunning him into dropping me back down to my feet.

A teacher appears at the end of the hall with Ned and the principal just in time to see me slam my fist into Flash's face again, this time aiming for his nose. It snaps and a torrent of blood flows down as he stumbles backwards, tripping over one of the jockeys that I kneed earlier. He falls flat on his back and the teacher rushes to his side.

A dozen or so students are watching from the end of the hallway and they stare at me in amazement. I guess it's not everyday you see the tiny new girl kick the football captain's butt and half his team, too.

The principal pulls Peter off a football player, a different one from the one he had dragged off of me. That one is rolling around on the floor clutching his midsection and groaning in pain. Looks like Peter can do more than carry dining tables and solve crazy math problems.

The school nurse and the rest of the faculty show up to haul us off to the office, probably to hash out what had happened and hand out the detentions. I barely have time to grab the torn picture pieces before I'm whisked off to the office by Mrs. Roberts.

They send Flash to the nurse to get his nose and jaw looked at. Since he couldn't talk he wouldn't have been any good or information anyways. One of the guys that I kneed, Peter, and I are taken into the principal's office.

I stare at the picture in my lap. It's torn right down the middle, splitting Steven's smile in two. The anger that had been burning in my chest is subsiding now, leaving behind a numbing pain. Next to me, Peter is seething. He has a bruise forming on his left cheek bone, the purples and blues rising to the surface.

"Well, explain yourselves." The principal took his seat and held his hands out over the desk.

The football player shoots a nervous glance at me and fidgets in his chair nervously. He and I both know that whatever I says can get us both in deep trouble.

Peter speaks first. "Flash was roughing her up. He took her picture," he nods to the pieces in my lap, "and tore it in half."

"And then?"

Peter says nothing more, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

"Who started the fight?"

"I started it." I say, knowing full well what it means. "I hit Flash in the jaw, and then two of his cronies — sorry, two of his teammates — pushed me up against the lockers."

"So you hit him first?"

I nod. "Yes."

"But he was harassing her!" Peter exclaims.

"Parker, please step outside. Join him, Finchley." The two boys stand and leave, Peter shooting a concerned glance over his shoulder. He closes the door behind him, leaving the principal and I alone.

"I-It's my fault, sir. It was just a picture, I shouldn't ha-"

"Who is it?" The principal interrupts me.

"I beg you pardon?"

"Who's picture is that?" He holds his hand out for the halves I'm clutching.

"It's my friend, Steven. He," I hand him the pieces, "he passed away a little under a year ago. Cancer."

He takes the halves in his hands and studies them. "I see. Did you take this photograph yourself?"

"Yes, sir. It's from last year."

He hands the halves back to me and I hold them tightly. "Did you fear for your safety? Is that why you lashed out?"

"No, sir, I was angry."

"Was it self defense?"

I shrug. "Flash approached me first. I felt a little threatened, but I wasn't exactly scared. I knew I could take him."

The principal chuckles. "Given his current condition and yours, I believe you could handle him. Seeing as he targeted you, we'll chalk this up to self defense. You're off the hook, kid."

"Thank you, sir." I bow my head gratefully. "What about Peter?"

"He was trying to protect you. He's off the hook as well. As for the others..." he trails off. "Send them in on your way out. You're excused, Ms. Brown. You and Parker can go. But, I will have to call your parents to inform them about what happened."

"Thank you, sir." I stand to leave but stop at the door. "You wouldn't happen to have any tape, would you?"

He smiles and offers me a roll of tape. I fix the picture, taping the two halves back together and then return the roll. "I will expect there to be no more incidents like this. You may go."

I nod and leave the office, sending the other boys in and dragging Peter away from the others.

"Are you okay, Hailey? Those guys were pretty rough." Peter looks at me with concern.

"Well, I'm better off than Flash." I grin. "You've got a nice bruise on your face. More colorful than a bag of Skittles. I didn't expect you to throw any punches."

"I could say the same about you. You throw a mean punch." He chuckles, then looks at me with concern again. "Are you really okay?"

I wave him off and grab my bag from my locker. "I'll be fine. Let's go get churros. I'm starving."