Chapter 10 The Shame Parade (Scarlett POV)

Chapter 10 The Shame Parade (Scarlett POV)

The new schedule feels like a death sentence printed on cheap paper.
I stare at it in my car, parked in the furthest corner of the student lot where no one will see me having a breakdown. Remedial English. Basic Math. Introduction to Chemistry. Classes designed for freshmen and students who've failed multiple times. Classes that meet in the old wing of the building, where the lockers are dented and the fluorescent lights flicker.
Luna hasn't spoken to me since we left the principal's office three days ago. She's made her disappointment clear through silence, which is somehow worse than yelling. The mate bond with Danny is a constant ache in my chest, like a pulled muscle that never heals. He's in the building somewhere, I can feel him.
I grab my bag and force myself out of the car.
The hallway is a gauntlet.
At my old locker, someone has written "STALKER" in red marker.
My wolf snarls inside me, wanting to find whoever did it and make them regret it. I breathe through my nose and keep walking. Can't afford another incident. Can't give the elders more ammunition.
"Scarlett! Hey, wait up!"
Blake Morrison jogs up beside me, all concerned frowns and gentle touches on my elbow. He's wearing his letterman jacket and that sympathetic expression that makes me want to punch him.
"I heard about the schedule change," he says, loud enough that people nearby can hear. "That's so unfair. Everyone knows Danny Walter's the one with problems, not you."
"Blake, I'm fine."
"It's just..." He lowers his voice, but not enough. "I told the guys on the team what happened. How you were just trying to help him and he totally overreacted. I mean, the guy clearly has issues, right? Some kind of breakdown?"
A freshman with purple hair slows down to listen. Two senior girls have stopped at their lockers, phones out.
"Blake, seriously, I need to get to class."
"I'm just saying, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here." He squeezes my elbow, his perfect smile in place. "We all know you've been under a lot of stress. New school, family pressure, and then getting involved with someone so... unstable. It's a lot."
The way he says "unstable" makes my skin crawl.
"Danny's not unstable."
"Hey, I'm not judging. You saw something in him, tried to help. That's who you are... you see the best in people." Blake's voice carries down the hallway. "But sometimes people are too broken to be fixed, you know? And it's not your fault when they lash out."
I yank my arm free. "Thanks for the support, Blake. Really feeling it."
His smile doesn't waver. "Anytime. That's what friends are for."
He walks away, and I catch the whispers starting immediately. Mental breakdown. That weird kid. She was obsessed. Restraining order. The story is already being rewritten, with me as the tragic hero who tried to save a lost cause, or the crazy girl who couldn't take a hint, depending on who's telling it.
Blake just made sure everyone's telling it.

Room 104. Remedial English.
I walk in and immediately want to walk out.
The room is half-empty. A scatter of students, mostly freshmen by the look of them, plus a few older kids who have that particular slouch that comes from repeating courses. 
This is where they've put me.
I slide into a desk in the back corner, as far from everyone else as possible. If I'm going to be humiliated, I'll do it alone.
"Books out, everyone!" The teacher, Mr. Palmer, is maybe thirty with thinning hair and coffee stains on his tie. "We're starting with Of Mice and Men today. Who can tell me what we discussed last class about the American Dream?"
Silence.
"Anyone? Come on, folks. The American Dream. George and Lennie. What are they chasing?"
More silence. A freshman in the front row is scrolling through his phone under his desk.
I've already read Of Mice and Men. Twice. Once in eighth grade and once last year for fun because I ran out of other books. I could answer his question in my sleep, but I keep my mouth shut. Drawing attention is the last thing I need.
The door opens.
Two pack members walk in, Rachel and Thomas, both in their twenties, both wearing the kind of casual clothes that somehow still scream "bodyguard." They nod at Mr. Palmer like this is normal and take seats on either side of the room.
My face burns.
"Um." Mr. Palmer blinks at them. "Can I help you?"
"We're observers," Rachel says smoothly. "Educational support. Don't mind us."
"I wasn't informed about any observers..."
"It's been cleared with the administration." Thomas pulls out his phone. "We'll be quiet."
Mr. Palmer looks like he wants to argue but doesn't. He turns back to the class, flustered. "Right. Okay. So. The American Dream. Anyone?"
Every student is now staring at me, then at Rachel and Thomas, then back at me. I can see the calculations happening in their heads. The whispers starting.
Is she in a gang? Are those her bodyguards? Why does she need protection in remedial English?
My wolf is clawing at my control, furious at being watched like a child who can't be trusted. This is what the elders want, to humiliate me, to prove I need supervision, to show the pack that I'm not fit to lead.
I force myself to breathe evenly and stare at my desk.
The class drags on forever. Mr. Palmer tries to lead a discussion that no one participates in. The freshman with his phone gets it confiscated. 
When the bell finally rings, I'm the first one out the door.
Basic Math is worse.
The teacher, Mrs. Hendricks, actually does a double-take when I walk in. "Scarlett Jackson? Are you sure you're in the right room?"
"Unfortunately."
She checks her roster, frowning. "This is... this is basic algebra. You should be in..."
"I know where I should be. This is where they put me."
Two more pack members arrive before class starts. Different faces, same job. Mrs. Hendricks stops questioning my presence and starts looking nervous instead. 
One girl actually changes seats to get farther away from me.
By third period, the whispers have evolved into a full narrative. I catch fragments as I walk through the halls:
"...heard she's in witness protection..."
"...gang connections, that's why she keeps getting expelled..."
"...those guys following her are definitely not teachers..."
"...Danny Walter reported her and now she needs protection from retaliation..."
Each version is more absurd than the last, but they all have one thing in common: I'm dangerous. Unstable. Someone to avoid.
Introduction to Chemistry is in the science wing, which means I have to walk past Danny's AP Chemistry class to get there.
I time it carefully, waiting until after the bell rings so the hallways are empty. Can't risk violating the restraining order. Five meters at all times. Fifteen feet. I've measured it obsessively in my head, calculated the exact routes I need to take to avoid him.
But as I pass his classroom, I can't help but glance through the window in the door.
He's there. Sitting in the front row because of course he is, hunched over his notebook, writing something with complete focus.
Go to him. Help him. He needs you.
I force myself to keep walking.
My Chemistry class is four doors down. The students are younger, the material is stuff I mastered two years ago, and the pack surveillance continues with two more members posting up at the back of the room.
The teacher doesn't even question it anymore. Apparently, word has spread that the new girl comes with an entourage.
Lunch is a special kind of hell.
I pick at a sandwich I'm not hungry for and try to ignore the stares.
"This seat taken?"
I look up. A girl stands across from me, tray in hand, eyebrow raised.
"It's all yours," I mutter.
She sits, completely unbothered by my tone. "Jade Robichaux. I'm new too. Well, new-ish. Transferred in three weeks ago."
"Scarlett."
"Oh, I know who you are." She bites into an apple, studying me. "Whole school knows who you are. You're the girl with the restraining order against that nerdy kid. Also, the girl with the gang bodyguards. Very mysterious."
"They're not..." I stop myself. What's the point? "Whatever."
"See, that's what I don't get." Jade leans forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "You don't look like someone who'd stalk a guy. You look like someone who has guys stalking her. So what's the real story?"
"There is no story."
"Bullshit." She says it cheerfully, without malice. "I've been to four schools in three years, princess. I know what real crazy looks like, and you're not it. Angry? Sure. Stressed? Definitely. But not stalker-crazy."
I should get up and leave. I should shut this down. 
"Why do you care?" I ask.
"Because I'm bored, and you're interesting." Jade shrugs. "Also, those rent-a-cops over there have been glaring at me since I sat down, which makes me want to stay even more. I don't like being told what to do."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "Yeah, I'm getting that impression."
"So?" She takes another bite of apple. "You gonna tell me what's really going on, or are we gonna keep pretending you're some kind of criminal mastermind?"
"I'm not a criminal."
"Didn't say you were. But those guys?" She nods toward Rachel and Thomas. "They're not here because you're a danger to other people. They're here because someone thinks you're a danger to yourself. Or because someone wants to keep tabs on you. Which is it?"
My throat tightens. "It's complicated."
"It always is." Jade's expression softens slightly. "Look, I get it. Complicated families, complicated situations. I'm not asking you to spill your life story. Just saying, if you need someone who doesn't give a shit about high school politics or whatever drama you've got going on, I'm available."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because three weeks ago, I was the new girl everyone whispered about." She meets my eyes, and there's steel beneath the casual tone. "The girl who got expelled from her last school for dealing. Never mind that I was dealing because my mom died and I had to keep the lights on. Never mind that I stopped as soon as I could get a real job. All anyone saw was the label."
She leans back, crossing her arms. "You got a label too now, princess. Doesn't matter if it's accurate. Doesn't matter what really happened. That's what everyone sees when they look at you."
She's right.
Perfect Scarlett. Future Alpha. Destined for greatness.
That's who I was supposed to be. That's the identity I've clung to my entire life.
But sitting here in remedial classes, watched by pack babysitters, avoided by other students, separated from my mate by legal order, who am I now?
"You're slumming it with us failures now, princess," Jade says, but there's no cruelty in it. Just acknowledgment. "Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"
"I don't know," I admit quietly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
"Then I guess we'll figure it out together." Jade grins, and it transforms her whole face. "Fair warning though, I'm terrible at following rules, I've got a smart mouth, and I'm probably going to get you into more trouble than you're already in."
"That's a pretty big promise."
"I'm an overachiever." She extends her hand across the table. "So what do you say, princess? Want a friend who doesn't care about your reputation?"
I stare at her hand.
I reach out and shake it.
"Scarlett," I say. "And stop calling me princess."
"No promises." Jade's grin widens. "But I'll think about it."