Lucita sat in class writing her book while her teacher spoke.  At least she looked like she was paying attention. Today, she was just distracted and confused.

Everything with Matthew had been fun. It was fun. But every time she was with him lately, it was like something had changed or evolved.

And she didn’t know how to feel about it anymore. She was thankful for midterms, which distracted her and kept her away.

But it felt … explosive whenever she saw him. Like they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It was…it was something, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Something had shifted between them, opening a dam of feelings they had promised they wouldn’t feel.

The bell rang, jerking her from her thoughts.

Silvia waited for her at her desk.

“Yo, are you ready for midterms?”

Luci shrugged. “I guess. Eh, maybe not US History. God, I can’t wait for the school Halloween party, a nice distraction before all the testing. I have my costume ready.” She grinned at Silvia, grabbing her bag off the floor.

Together, they headed out the door towards their last class of the day. Halfway down the already half-empty hall, someone called out to her.

“Hey, look, the class slut.”

Luci froze. The boy in question wasn’t someone she knew, just another random guy who thought he knew her.

“Excuse you?”

“Lu, come on, ignore him.” Silvia tried pulling her arm away, but Lucita had had enough, yanking her arm out of her grip and dropping her bag to the ground.

“No. Come on, dude, care to repeat yourself?”

The guy looked at his friend, who just shrugged, grinning like an idiot. Like this was some joke, like it was okay to insult and harass her. Because why not? She was just one girl, and they were two guys who thought their opinions mattered.

“Okay, yeah. You’re a slut.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you had some new insult for me. That one is kinda old. It doesn’t phase me, much like I’m sure your penis wouldn’t. Like those words, I’m sure it is small and insignificant.”

All around, people “Oo” ed, even his friend snickered. Lucita felt her rage turn into gratification. Why had she let these people walk all over her all this time? Lucita was a writer; words were her weapons. And she would wield them.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” He launched himself off the wall he had been casually leaning against, getting too up close and personal. Lucite refused to be cowed, refused to let him affect her.

“Did I stutter?”

He shoved her back into the wall, grabbing her wrist hard. She was suddenly reminded of middle school, the pain in her back sending memories to the forefront. But Lucita wasn’t that girl anymore.

“How about I shove it down your throat, you little cunt.”

Lucita headbutted him, catching him off guard and forcing him to release her as he held his bleeding nose. This was why she wore heels; they made her taller, tall enough to headbutt someone at just the right height. She would say that the next time her friends said something.

“You fucking bitch!” he said, pinching his bleeding nose, forcing the words to come out more nasally.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did my little cunt self hurt you?”

He lunged at her, but she ducked and spun out of the way, her old ballet lessons from her childhood returning to her. She watched him run and stumble into the wall. God, she felt good.

“Enough!”

Lucita flinched, swearing. Kids scattered, and Lucita slowly turned around, finding herself face-to-face with the principal. His eyes bore into her just like they did freshman year.

“Both of you follow me. Now.”

***

Lucita sat next to Derek, the boy she had headbutted, who was still holding his head back.

“You’re supposed to hold your head forward and down,” she muttered. She was used to nosebleeds.

“Shut up.”

“You’re probably not even bleeding anymore.”

“Fuck you.”

Luci rolled her eyes when the door opened. The principal looked down at them. At least the disdain was not directed solely at her. But what caught her eye was the second body to enter the room.

Ms. Enno, the school counselor.

Ms. Enno caught Lucita’s wide gaze and offered her a small smile. After last year’s events, between pushing Francis down the stairs, the rumors, and the events of homecoming, Luci understood that she was on very thin ice, especially if the principal knew all that. God, she hoped Ms. Enno hadn’t said anything.

“Lucita,” began the principal, lacing his fingers on the desk, “I had hoped to not see you this year.”

“The feeling was mutual.” She hated this man.

“You attacked another student. I warned you that I would have to expel you if there were more incidents like this.”

This was a joke. “I was defending myself!”

“Luci, I’ll handle this.” Lucita looked at Ms. Enno, who stepped up close to the desk. Her hair was braided down her back, and her tribal necklace was the only color in her black ensemble.

“If you expel or even suspend her, consider this my resignation.”

Lucita’s eyes widened. That was not on the list of things she had been expecting. And by the shocked look on the principal’s face, who she assumed he brought in to back him up, he had not been expecting that either. Talk about a backfire.

“Excuse me?”

“According to the other students and the camera, he attacked her first by grabbing her wrist and throwing her into the wall.”

“Ms.—”

Ms. Enno put her hand up to quiet the man. “No. I won’t hear it. Lucita was defending herself.”

“Considering the rumors, the boy’s behavior is understandable.”

Ms. Enno crossed her arms, eyeing him warily. “Please tell me you did not just say what I think you said? Do you think she was asking for it? Are you going to go on record saying that a young girl is just supposed to allow people to assault and harass her? If you are, I’ll gladly let the school superintendent know.”

Silence filled the air, and Lucita looked back and forth between them, her eyes wide behind her glasses. Go, Ms. Enno, she thought.

“Both of them will serve detention for one week,” he said, trying and failing to stare down Ms. Enno.

“No—”

“Ms.—”

“He will serve detention. A girl should never be punished for refusing to be victimized.”

The principal let out a breath through his nostrils. “Extra counseling.”

“Agreed. Luci, you’re excused.”

“Okay.” Luci wasn’t one to wait. She grabbed her bag and bolted out of the office, not eager to test her luck. And yet, she couldn’t breathe. Not here. So she kept walking, using all the back hallways that were never monitored, towards the bus area, then out the gate.

Her heart was racing, her body shaking.

Yeah, Francis had tried to assault her, and she had pushed him down the stairs, breaking his phone after he had sent off all those fake photos. But that was the last time she had defended herself. And the only reason she hadn’t been expelled was because she told Ms. Enno about him sending out the photos. So, no investigation had been done on his claims of her assaulting him. He had been quickly and quietly expelled.

But still, she felt his hands on her. Every time he had forced himself on her, his hands on her wrist, his mouth against hers.

And now this guy…

She couldn’t be touched. Hated being touched.

She had to escape.

Walking down the street, the blazing Florida sun in the sky, dark clouds on the horizon, she pulled out her phone, tears on the fringe.

***

Matthew was picking up his books when his phone rang. Cyrus stood by his side, staring.

“Luci?” he asked. They weren’t supposed to meet up today.

“Can you—I mean, I know you can’t but—”

“Lu, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I had to leave school.” She was sniffling, crying. “Some guy tried to harass me. I have—”

“Hold on. What happened?”

“Is she okay?” There was an edge to Cyrus’s voice.

“This guy called me a slut, and I stood up for myself. He threw me against the wall—”

“Some fucker assaulted you?”

“I’m gonna get her. Text me where she is.”

Before Matthew could say anything, Cyrus was out the door.

“Matthew?”

Something in him cracked. “Cyrus is coming to get you. Text him, okay.”

***

Cyrus threw his bag into the back seat, hopping in. It would take him 41 minutes to get from Everglades High to South Broward, to get to her, but fuck, he’d speed there if he had to.

And he did.

Thirty minutes later, he found her a block away from school, sitting in the pouring rain, outside the laundromat where she usually waited for the bus.

He pulled up, hopping out, letting the rain fall on him.

“Luce?” She looked up at him, legs pulled up to her chest, bag seated next to her. Her hair plastered her forehead. “Let me take you home.”

She ran into his arms, sobbing into his chest.

***

The drive to her apartment complex was quiet. They were both soaking wet, cold, and tense.

He parked at her place, and they sat there together as the rain fell on his car.

“Do you—”

“Can you stay?” she asked, cutting him off.

“Yeah, of course.”

He followed her out of the car and up the three flights of narrow stairs. The silence remained thick in the air as they dripped along the way and into her apartment.

Luci dropped her bag onto the floor by the door carelessly and began stripping down before he had even shut the door, making her way to the bathroom.

“I’ll grab you a towel.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He waited for her there, a puddle forming at his feet. Thunder echoed in the air.

Lucita returned, wrapped in a towel, another one in her outstretched hand.

He kept his boxers on, even though they were soaked. Cyrus felt so unsure of himself, watching her sit on the sofa. Should he follow her? Sit next to her in nothing but a towel? He didn’t know what to do except stand there like an idiot.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, pulling her legs up to her chest.

Cyrus followed her voice, taking a tentative seat next to her. How did she not know that he would always come for her?

“Luce…I’m sorry. I’ve been a really shitty friend, and I haven’t—”

“I miss us.” Lucita looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears. She had removed her glasses, letting him see her face, all of her, at once.

“God, Lu, I miss us too.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped her up, pulling her onto his lap. He just needed to hold her; that’s all he needed.

“Everyone at school hates me,” she sobbed. “All the rumors, all the lies, I’m so sick of it.” She cried, and he held her closer. Too close.

“Luce—” he looked down at her, tilting her chin towards him. She was naked beneath that towel, he realized. His heart started to race.

“Cyrus?”

“Fuck.” He kissed her. He kissed her soberly, fiercely, hungrily. And she responded, opening her mouth to him, fixing her body so that she was straddling him now. At some point, her towel loosened and fell from her body. Or maybe he had taken it off her. He didn’t know. All he knew was that his hands were groping her, touching her bare skin, his lips on her, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Then, suddenly, Tiffany’s memory popped up.

And then he remembered he didn’t deserve her.

But he didn’t stop. Instead, he carried her down the hall to her bedroom, her legs wrapped around his waist. He dropped his boxers on the ground. God, he wanted her. Against all reason, he wanted her.

He had to stop.

He knew he had to stop. Stop kissing her, stop moving his hands between her legs.

He had to stop.

He didn’t deserve her.

Tiffany’s laugh.

Lucita moaned as he kissed her neck.

Tiffany’s skin.

Lucita’s natural glow.

Her nipple in his mouth.

That glint in Tiffany’s eyes.

He didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

Matthew’s voice. She’ll never forgive you.

“Cyrus—”

And that undid him.

“Fuck!” He pulled away, grabbing his boxers, getting as far as he could from her, his breath hard, heart racing, as he pressed himself against her desk, shutting his eyes, burying his head in his hands, wet boxers dangling from them.

“Cyrus?”

He looked up at her, heart-wrenching. She had sat up, covered herself in the blue comforter she always slept with, and stared at him, eyes wide, confused.

“I can’t, Luci. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t fucking deserve you! What don’t you get about that! I. Do not. Deserve you!”

“Says who? Huh? You? I love you, I want you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“And why the hell not? Huh? Fucking tell me! So you were mean to me in middle school—”

“This isn’t about middle school!”

“Then what is it about!”

“I slept with Tiffany!” He hadn’t meant to yell it, hadn’t meant to say it at all.

Watching her, he saw it. First, the disbelief, then the pain, the heartbreak. Then, finally, the rage.

“When?” Her voice was low, cold.

“This summer.” He didn’t break eye contact. Refused to be a coward and play the victim.

The hand clutching the blanket tightened, turning her knuckles white.

“Get out.”

“Luce—”

“Go away!” she screamed, tears forming. Why was he always making her cry? Why couldn’t he stop hurting her?

And now? What could he say? Nothing. All he did was hurt her. So he left, putting on his still-soaking wet clothes, leaving her to sob and scream.

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