Bad Falls 101

2. Your Tormentor

You know that moment when you feel like time just stopped? Well, no, sorry to disappoint you, but that was certainly not how I felt when my eyes locked with those of the stranger thanks to whom I had fallen.

I am not that angry about my fall - I am used to falling every now and then, hello! - but I think I have every right to feel offended by what he told me. I am not blind. I am just clumsy, thank you very much.

I glare at the guy’s retreating back and click my tongue in dismay before deciding to go after him. Oh, you bet he’s going to hear it.

Blair is following me, rather unimpressed by my reaction I’d say, and most certainly nervous, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she says.

But it’s too late. I push at the guy’s hand - the same hand that’s holding his books - in an attempt to make him drop his things, and I fail miserably at the task.

He turns to look at me with a glare.

He doesn’t look too pleased.

Well, tough, I am not either.

And I am not about to cower back in fear, just because of a measly glare. Besides, I am sick and tired of all this nonsense, of all this bullying I am being subjected to. Nobody deserves this.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, my eyes hard on him.

“I should be asking you that,” he says in response. “First you bump into me, and now you’re following me around… Are you that desperate?”

How he can be so confident is beyond me… it is utterly disgusting though.

“You wish, pretty boy,” I scoff as I roll my eyes.

For some reason, all the whispers and the unnerving giggles stop.

“Did you just call me pretty?” He raised an eyebrow as he asked that in a rather icy tone.

I look at him, in an attempt to guess what he is thinking, unsure of whether he feels angry by the name calling, or rather pleased.

What? You never know. He does have an ego that most certainly doesn’t suit him.

“So what if I am, pretty boy?” I challenge, uncaring to know what Mr. Obnoxious is feeling.

“Are you asking for a fight, little girl?” He steps forward, right up in my space.

Is he one of those? One of those guys who don’t mind hitting a girl? I am freaking out inside, but I try to act tough nonetheless.

“So what if I am?” I retort even though I am all kinds of panicky right now, and shivers are openly dancing on my skin.

I don’t have to meet his cobalt blue eyes to know he is amused by me.

He leans forward until his head is level with mine and then says, “You’re in luck, little girl. I don’t hit women. Tell me your name.”

I gulp down my dread and say meekly, “Samantha.”

“Well, Samantha, I’m Ryker.” I am ready to tell him that it is nice to meet him although I know it is probably not the right time for that, but he shuts my mouth with his finger on my lips, “I’ll be your worst nightmare this year.” He lifts his finger off my lips, and my mouth is immediately gaping in shock. “You don’t have to thank me.” He says in parting.

“What did you do?” Blair, who had been silent all through the problematic discussion, asks me, her tone somehow full of reprimand.

“I stood for myself for once?” I ask rather than respond, unsure of what I just did myself.

“Oh come on, Sammy, can’t you tell that he’s bad news?” She says as she hands my things which I had totally forgotten on the floor.

“I can,” I say sheepishly, “He kind of threatened to make my life hell.”

“Well, you should really start learning who to pick as your opponents,” she shakes her head at me in disapproval and then just sighs.

Why was she making such a big fuss about this? What are the chances of him and I even having one class together?

I don’t even know the guy. For all I care, he could be a freshman.

“Okay, Sherlock, who is he?” I ask challengingly.

“He’s Ryker Scott, you airhead! How can you not know him?” She whisper-yells in astonishment.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know him?” I ask with a hesitant smile.

“Because everybody knows him. He kind of rules the school.”

“It’s my first time seeing him,” I tell her, trying to justify myself.

“He has his locker right next to yours!” She yells.

My eyes widen at that. “It’s my first time noticing him then?” I try.

“I’m afraid he’s the one who noticed you today,” she bites on her bottom lip before shaking her head anew.

“Is it such a bad thing?” I whisper.

Her glare is enough to make me shut my trap.

I shouldn’t have asked.

He does have the looks, the unjustified glares, the brooding resting face, and the leather jacket. Anyone with enough brains would have stayed clear of him, but not me, not Samantha Peterson… because let’s not forget that despite my supposedly high IQ, I am not that good at getting a read of the atmosphere.

Oh damn, I realize that I have never been really pleased with the high school life, and it had been almost bearable, but he has the power to make it worse according to Blair. And one of Blair’s many qualities is that she never sugar-coats anything. She is as blunt as they come.

“What do you have now?” She asks, changing the subject.

“English,” I groan.

“It isn’t any better than my history class,” she sighs. “Well, we both should be on our way then.”

I am mindlessly heading to class when I bump into yet another person. This time around, I do manage not to fall somehow.

This person is unlike Ryker and apologizes. I smile at guy and tell him it’s okay.

“It’s not,” he protests, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Me neither,” I shrug, smiling still.

“Well, I’m new here and I was looking at the map. What’s your excuse?” He teases.

“I’m just an airhead,” I tell him.

He chuckles and I can’t help but do the same.

“I’m Andrew by the way. What’s your name?” He asks.

“I’m…”

“Her name is Samantha,” I hear Ryker from behind me, “and she’s mine to prey on and t*****e, pretty boy.”

“What?” Andrew sounds outraged.

I stiffen at the school bad boy’s words.

“Scram,” he tells him rudely.

I don’t even turn around to see that Ryker is glaring. The way Andrew paled kind of gave it away.

“That was unnecessary,” I grumble, unhappy with the turn of events. “And rude.”

“Oh, you have yet to see rude, little girl,” he retorts.

I wish I could say I was terrorized or I felt tears sting my eyes, because nothing like that happened at that moment. Instead of justified fear, I felt rightful ire.

“Just who do you think you are?” I snap as I turn to him.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and then shrugs as he tells me, “Your tormentor starting today.”

“I could do without one, thank you very much,” I tell him stiffly.

“Well, that’s not up for debate,” He smiles at me, and then puts his arm around my shoulder before telling me, “We should not be late on our first day back to school. Let's get going, little girl.”

The nerve!