I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I wait for the class to end, tapping my feet continuously and biting my nails as the clock ticks faster than usual. The plan is to give him the new shirt and problem solved, I'd return to the shadow I was.

"That's it for today's class, don't forget to submit the assignment before Monday," the teacher says, bringing my attention back to the classroom. Without hesitation, I stand up from my seat and begin to pack my stationery. Someone taps my shoulder but I ignore it.

"Hi, I'm Rose."

"Yes... Rose, of course," I say casually, rummaging through my bag in search of the shirt. I placed it in my bag, where is it? Maybe I left it in my locker.

"You seem pretty busy," she says, her smile fading.

"I'm very sorry," I reply, racing out of the door and down the hallway. Once I get to my destination, I spin the dial three times to the right to clear the previous numbers and enter in my combination. The lock unfastens. I grab the handle, pull it right open and heave a sigh of relieve when I see the shirt lying on top of my books. I take it and place it into my bag.

With confidence, I boldly stride through the cafeteria door and sit on a deserted bench

"You're late, why is my shirt?" The 5'9-foot annoying jerk asks as he approaches my bench.

I internally roll my eyes at him. I wasn't scared of him, I just needed to play along. I unzip my bag, but as I hold on to the shirt, I realized something is written on it. This couldn't be right, I didn't remember a writing when Martin gave it to me.

I push the shirt back into the bag and nervously chuckle, hoping he doesn't notice.

"What are you hiding?" he questions, walking closer to me, his eyebrows furrowed. He uses his left hand to shove me and his right hand to snatch the bag away. He brings out the shirt and reads out the writing.

"Asshole."

He laughs and then stops, almost immediately, his brown eyes darkening. I gulp, scratching my neck as he drops the shirt on the floor and runs his fingers through his curls. And at that moment, I knew I was the definition of screwed.

He grabs me by the collar and drags me to the center of the cafeteria. Everyone was silent, anyone who made a sound could share my brutal fate: food attack.

I shut my eyes, ready for the worst. I feel so many things hit my skin: mashed potatoes, cheese, pudding, and even trays full to the brim with condiments through the air. Food is tossed, whipped, scattered and spilled all over me. I am caught off guard when someone strategically hurls spaghetti on my glasses. In efforts to smear it off, I get pepper in my eyes. It stings so bad, I let out a scream. The scream intensifies when the gnarly bruises on my body begin to hurt.

"Whoever is responsible for the food fight has 5 minutes to own up in my office or everyone gets detention," the principal voice echoes throughout the cafeteria.

"This behavior is unacceptable. Your teachers are working hard to plan tomorrow's PTA meeting and this is how childish you behave. Shame on all of you." She flings the door shut behind her, murmuring something under her breath.

"Did you hear that poor girl? She wants to see you in 5 minutes. Get up and get ready for your dismissal," Rex whispers in my ear. My body loosens up as the sound of his footsteps gradually vanishes. I try to pick myself up but I slip and fall. The whole place erupts into fits and giggles.

"Let me help you up," a female voice says, gently pushing me to a sitting position

"Are you ok?" she asks. In response, I shake my head. I couldn't open my eyes, rubbing them got more pepper in.

She holds my hand; her palms resting on my fist as she pulls me off the floor. With bowed head and lowered eyes, Rose's hand in mine, I am led into the bathroom.

"I have sweatpants and a blouse in my locker, I'd get it for you while you take off your clothes."

I nod, opening the tub and washing the pepper out of my eyes. I strip down to my underwear while cursing under my breath. I notice my reflection in the mirror; My white eye balls looked reddish and my eye bags, more prominent. My brown eyes were dull and my hair looked tousle.

"Here are the... " she pauses mid-stride, her lips parting ways.

"You have a tattoo," she gasps.

Oh shit, I forgot about it. In all efforts to hide it, I trip and fall heavily on the floor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she says, dropping the clothes and running out of the washroom. I get dressed and take an exit. At the entrance, I meet Styles leaning on the wall. He glares at me and says, "I told you to do one thing. Can you ever do anything right?"

"The principal is waiting for you." And with that, he walks away.