Chapter 56 HARPER
I had never been so angry in my entire life. And the worst part was that I wasn’t even angry about the fact that she meant to throw the acid at me instead of Tyler. I was angry because she hurt him.
Racquel’s head snapped to the side from the impact of my slap, yet I still didn’t feel satisfied. I lunged again, grabbing her by the neck before she could evade me.
“How dare you?” I snarled, my vision blurring red.
“Leave me alone, you slut. It should have been you. I would never hurt Tyler,” Racquel screamed, clawing at my wrist. I didn’t care. I dragged my nails across her skin hard enough to draw blood, and she shrieked.
The lab exploded into chaos. Chairs scraped. Glass clattered. Someone yelled for a teacher. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, trying to pull me back, but I wasn’t done. For once in her perfect, glitter-coated life, Racquel finally deserved to feel something real.
“What is going on in here?” Principal Kade’s voice boomed from the doorway at the exact moment Tyler yanked me back, pulling me against him.
“She started it!” Racquel sobbed.
“You threw acid on Tyler,” I shouted back. My voice cracked with rage. “I swear I’m going to—”
I lunged again, cut off mid-sentence. Tyler held me tight, his grip almost too strong. If it had been anyone else, I would have fought against him. But I stilled because he was breathing unevenly, and he winced when I brushed his shoulder.
“It should have been her. I thought it was water. I would never hurt Tyler,” Racquel cried, collapsing into one of her friends.
Some students gasped, others whispered. The entire room felt suffocating.
I kept my focus on Tyler, ignoring the principal and the murmurs around us. I reached for the back of his jumper, but he hissed when my fingers grazed the fabric.
“How bad is it? You should see the nurse,” I whispered urgently.
He caught my hand before I could turn him fully. “I’m fine, Harper. Are you alright?”
“Lane. Lawson. Mercer. Office. Now,” Principal Kade barked.
Tyler didn’t even flinch. He glared at Racquel as she stammered out excuses through her tears.
“Please let me check,” I insisted, trying to turn him again. He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I said I’m okay. Get your stuff.”
“Tyler—”
“Mercer!” Principal Kade snapped.
Tyler tilted his head in acknowledgment, his jaw tight. “Give us a minute.” Then he said quietly to me, “I think it’s a first degree burn. I'll be alright.”
“Oh my God. We need the nurse,” I breathed, but Racquel cut in.
“Tyler, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Get away from me,” he said simply. “I swear, Racquel, get away from me right now.”
She sobbed even harder. I stepped in front of Tyler before she could get any closer.
“Leave,” I told her.
She did. She ran past her friends, past the principal, past anyone who dared to look at her.
Principal Kade turned toward us. “Office. Now.”
Tyler moved with me beside him, walking stiffly so his jumper wouldn’t rub against his burn. I reached to help him lift it, but he shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, guiding me forward.
Except nothing about this felt fine.
Nothing at all.
The walk to the office felt like walking toward judgment day.
Students watched us through door windows. Some whispered. Some stared at Tyler like he was a hero. Others gawked at me as if everything was my fault. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. I couldn’t think about that. Not while Tyler’s back was still red and blistered beneath his clothes.
Principal Kade ordered us to wait outside while he called our parents.
Tyler sank into a chair with a grunt. I paced.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Harper. Stop looking at me like I’m about to fall apart.”
“You burned your shoulder. You need medical attention.”
“It’s first degree. My skin’s not falling off.”
“That’s not the point.”
He gave me a strained look. One I almost couldn’t hold.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt,” he said softly.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Before I could answer, the door to the waiting room swung open. A flood of adults entered.
Mrs. Rose, Tyler’s mother, rushed straight to him, cupping his face.
“Oh God, Tyler, what happened? Why didn’t the nurse call me?”
“He refused to go,” Principal Kade answered, stepping out of his office.
Her eyes snapped to her son. “You refused?”
Tyler shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Behind her came my dad, still in his work shirt, his brows pulled together.
“Harper. What on earth happened?”
I opened my mouth to explain, but Racquel’s father interrupted, barging in with his perfectly dressed wife at his side.
“This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “My daughter is traumatized. She was attacked. She needs protection.”
“She threw acid on a student,” Principal Kade corrected flatly.
“It was an accident,” Racquel insisted, voice cracking.
I stared at her. She couldn’t even look at me.
Tyler stood. “She tried to throw it at Harper.”
Racquel shook her head frantically. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I thought it was water.”
Mrs. Rose’s eyes widened. “She threw acid at my son?”
Racquel’s stepmother pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are willing to discuss consequences, but surely expulsion is unnecessary.”
“No,” Tyler said immediately. “Expel her. She could have blinded someone. She burned me.”
He still wasn’t letting anyone touch his back.
Racquel’s father bristled. “She’s not getting expelled because some emotional boy demands it. She’s a top student. She has real potential. We are willing to settle for a suspension.”
Tyler stepped forward. “I don’t care about her potential. She hurt Harper. She hurt me. If she stays, she’ll do it again.”
“We don’t know that,” Racquel’s stepmother said sharply.
“She said she’d do it again,” I whispered.
That silenced the room.
For a minute.
Principal Kade rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Given the severity of the incident, the witnesses, and the fact that corrosive substances were involved… Miss Lawson will be suspended for the rest of the term.”
Racquel choked on a sob.
“You mean she has to repeat senior year?” her father demanded.
“Yes,” the principal responded. “She cannot complete the required lab credits now.”
Racquel broke down completely. Her parents scrambled to comfort her.
I should have felt satisfied.
I didn’t.
I only felt tired.
Then Principal Kade turned to me. “Harper Lane.”
My stomach dropped.
“You initiated physical violence. Multiple times.”
My dad straightened beside me. “She reacted to protect her classmate.”
“Still.” The principal looked stern. “You have already received detention this week. This cannot continue. So your new punishment will be academic probation and a week of after-school disciplinary service.”
It hit like a punch.
Academic probation.
My record. My perfect record.
Gone.
Tyler stepped forward. “That’s not fair. She was defending me.”
“Mr. Mercer,” the principal said, turning toward him, “due to your injury history and the current incident, your previous pending detentions are cleared. You are excused.”
Tyler blinked. “What? No. Give them to me instead. Put me on probation.”
Mrs. Rose grabbed his arm. “Tyler, stop.”
“No. She doesn’t deserve this. Racquel started everything and Harper is the one being punished? That’s insane.”
“She attacked a student,” Racquel’s father retorted with a glare.
Tyler moved, but his mother pulled him back gently.
“Your shoulder is torn,” she reminded him. “You cannot keep putting yourself in danger. You already have a first degree burn on top of it. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up not being cleared for the closing season game. You need to go home.”
His breath hitched slightly.
Hockey. That was enough to shut up Tyler.
He looked at me then, and all the fight in his posture faltered.
“I can stay with you,” he said quietly. “I don’t care what they say.”
I shook my head, swallowing hard.
“No. You have to go.”
“Harper—”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Really.”
It wasn’t. It hurt more than I expected.
But he couldn’t risk ruining his only shot at playing again.
I forced a small smile. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. He let his mother guide him away, though he kept looking back at me until he was out of sight.
And even after he was gone, my chest still ached in a way I couldn’t hide.
I understood why he had to leave.
But understanding didn’t stop it from hurting anyway.