Chapter 72 LXXII.

Chapter 72 LXXII.
George’s POV

Trisha and I sat together in history class, though my mind was anywhere but on the lesson. I tried not to dwell on the morning’s events, but every time I thought about Ethan and his gang, my hatred for Izzy flared up. To make matters worse, we shared this period with Ethan and Oliver, and the bastards were seated only a few rows away.

Trisha tapped my shoulder. I glanced at her, my brows raised. We hadn’t spoken a word since our argument about Izzy earlier. I still couldn’t wrap my head around why Trisha defended her so fiercely, especially when Izzy treated her like garbage.

"George, I’m sorry about earlier," she whispered timidly. "I know you don’t like Izzy, and it’s not right for me to force it. But I promise you, George, she isn’t as bad as you think."

Just like that, my anger evaporated. I wasn't really mad at Trisha; I was just frustrated that she was blindly letting herself get hurt.

I sighed and offered a small, tired smile. "It’s fine, Trisha. Listen, I don't know what happened between you two before I showed up, but from what I’ve seen, she’s not the kind of person I want to be around. I’m happy being your friend, and I get that you want us all to get along, but that’s never going to happen. I’m sorry."

She shook her head with a sad, knowing smile. "It’s okay, George. I understand. I just wish things were different."

I shrugged, feeling zero regret for my honesty. I didn’t like her lying, manipulative friend, and that was that.

The teacher walked in at that moment, and the noisy room instantly went silent. He started lecturing about some historical event, but I barely listened—until he clapped his hands to get our full attention.

"Alright, everyone. It’s time for your midterm project. I’ve already divided the class into groups of four. I expect you all to put in maximum effort. A win for one is a win for all." A chorus of groans erupted. "Don't complain," the teacher said, adjusting his glasses. "The groups are final."

I tuned him out again as he started reading names, my mind drifting back to the mess between Izzy and Trisha. I wanted to end their friendship for good; it wasn't healthy for her.

"Group five..." The teacher’s voice snapped me back to reality. "George, Trisha, Ethan, and Oliver."

I looked at Trisha. She looked sick. Being paired with her bullies was clearly the last thing she wanted. I just hoped Ethan and his goon wouldn't try
anything.

Trisha gave a small, shaky nod and gathered her notebook. We stood up and moved our desks to join Ethan and Oliver at their table. Ethan greeted us with a smug smirk, while Oliver didn’t even look up from his phone.

"So," Ethan began, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. "This project is due next Friday."

Oliver yawned looking bored, and it took everything in me not to deck him right there. They weren't even pretending to care.

Trisha opened her notebook, nervously pushing her glasses up her nose. She was vibrating with discomfort. I honestly wondered why the teacher had paired us with them in the first place.

"We should probably... divide the work equally," Trisha suggested, her voice
barely a whisper. She wouldn't even look them in the eye.

Ethan’s smile widened, but there was nothing friendly about it. "Actually..."

I felt a surge of irritation. Whenever that look was on his face, trouble
followed.

"You're the smartest person here, Nerd," Ethan continued. "Why don’t you just
handle the research and write the report? Oliver and I can... proofread it."

Oliver nodded, still scrolling through his phone. My blood began to boil. What kind of people was Izzy hanging out with?

Trisha hesitated for a split second before giving a weak smile. "I... I don't
mind."

I turned to her, staring in total disbelief. "Really, Trisha? You don't mind?"

She shook her head nervously. "It’s okay, George. I like history. It’s seriously no big deal."

"That’s not the point!" I nearly shouted. "Just this morning, they were talking about you doing their homework, and now they’re dumping this on you too You can’t keep letting them walk all over you!"

She gulped, blinking rapidly. I could tell the attention was making her anxious,
but I was too far gone to stop.

Ethan shrugged casually. "She said she's fine with it, George. Stop making a scene."

I looked from Ethan to Oliver with pure disgust. "Well, I mind. I’m part of this group, and you guys aren't dumping the workload on us. Either we share the work equally, or your names aren't going on that final paper."

Ethan’s expression hardened. He glared at me, his jaw clenched tight. I didn’t
blink. I wasn't going to let him intimidate me.

After a tense silence, Ethan let out a fake sigh and forced a grin. "Calm down, George. We aren't hurting your little girlfriend. We’re letting her do it
because she’s better at it."

I let out a harsh laugh. "No. You’re pressuring her because she’s too nice to tell you to screw off." I scoffed, "I don't even blame you guys, though. I blame Isadora for selling her so-called
best friend out to you!"

Several students turned in their seats to stare.

Trisha tugged at my sleeve. "It's okay, George. Please, stop."

"No, it’s not okay. They can’t treat you like a maid," I insisted.

"But I really don't mind!"

My jaw tightened. "You shouldn't say that, Trisha. You aren’t anyone’s puppet,
and I won't let them treat you like one."

The room had gone quiet. Ethan rolled his eyes. "Why are you getting so worked up? Don’t tell me you’re actually in love with her."

"That’s none of your business, Ethan. You're part of this group, and you’re
going to do your fair share."

The teacher finally walked over, sensing the tension. "What’s going on here?"

I pointed directly at Ethan and Oliver. "Sir, they’re trying to force Trisha to do the entire project by herself."

The teacher looked at Ethan, raising an eyebrow. "Ethan?"

Ethan held up his hands innocently. "We didn't force her, Mr. Matthew. We just suggested it." He glanced at Oliver. "Right, Oliver?"

Oliver nodded instantly. "She said she wanted to do it. No one forced anyone."

The sheer nerve of these bastards was unbelievable.

Finally, the teacher turned to Trisha. "Is anyone forcing you, Patricia?"

Trisha lowered her head, shaking it quickly. "No, sir. I want to do it."

He looked back at me. "Problem solved. If she wants to do it alone, let it be."

I stared at him, stunned. "Let it be? Are you serious? You're the one who said
this was group work."

Trisha tugged my sleeve again. "George... please. It’s fine."

I wrenched my arm away. "No! This isn't right. Sir, you can't just ignore this. You made the rules, so don't support them being lazy and taking advantage of her."

"Calm down, George. Stop causing a scene," the teacher snapped. "She agreed to it. There's nothing more to discuss."

I looked at the man in front of me with pure disgust. "They're taking advantage
of her, and you’re acting like it’s normal."

A murmur went through the class, and the teacher’s face turned a deep shade of red. "Watch your tone, young man."

I didn't back down. "So because she won't stand up for herself, nobody else is allowed to either?"

"George!"

"You're the teacher! You're supposed to stop this, not pretend you don't see
it!"

The classroom fell dead silent. The teacher pointed toward the door, his voice trembling with anger. "Principal’s office. Now."

I didn’t move for a long second, simply glaring him down. Then, in a fit of rage, I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and marched toward the exit.

I stepped out and slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.

This school is fucked up.

Truly, deeply fucked up.