Mr Dalton is talking monotonously again.

This time he has saved himself from having to stand up all class by blaming his laziness on a fabricated foot injury. Apparently, he has just gone through critical surgery on his foot and can barely walk without feeling excruciating pain.

Though such a serious injury didn't stop him from racing towards the teacher's lounge before the bell rang to get the first choice of donuts. I zone in and out of the class, listening to the things that need to be heard, and ignoring the nonsense that he spews out for brownie points.

One earbud is in my ear, playing music quietly. My pen flicks back and forth over my worksheet and I build up line on line until there is a large, black mass of ink in the corner of my page.

"What are you doing?" Tally asks as she glances over. "Drawing satanic ritual marks?"

I give her a flat look and drop my pen on the desk. "No, stupid. It's called doodling. It's for creative people. You should try it."

"I heard it was for people that have short attention spans in class." Tally gives me a sly smile and turns back to face the front of the class, her focus intent on Mr Dalton.

I roll my eyes. "You're no fun," I mutter.

Glancing back a little, I see no one sat in Tyler's seat. I don't overthink it. I also don't overthink how close we were the last time we were together. How close we were to perhaps kissing. And how quickly we pulled away, awkwardly pretending it didn't happen.

But it could have.

We were so close.

I look back down at my desk and clench my eyes shut, letting out a long exhale. When I open my eyes back up, I look over at Tally's face. I frown a little. I didn't notice it before, but now I see a faded, red mark streaking down from her bottom lip.

"What the hell?" I whisper and reach over, prodding her chin where the mark stops.

She flinches and looks at me with narrowed eyes. "What?" she whispers back.

"That," I hiss and point once again at her chin. "Your lipstick is smudged."

Her eyes widen and she quickly shoves her hand into her small bag before fumbling and finally bringing out a little mirror. She slips it open and angles her face up so she can see her lips.

"Crap," she mutters and tries to wipe it off. "Could have told me sooner."

I hold my hands up. "Not my problem . . . so, who was it?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, rubbing at her chin.

"Well I mean lipstick usually doesn't smudge itself unless pressed up against something. Like another mouth maybe . . . and also why are you wearing lipstick?"

"What's wrong with lipstick?" Tally shrugs.

"You never wear it. I didn't even know you owned it."

"I don't," she says. "But my mom does."

"Do you steal everything from your mom?" I ask with a little smile of amusement.

"It's not stealing if she's never there to use it," Tally says sharply and I blink, sobering up a little.

I don't say anything for a moment.

"So who fucked up your lipstick?" I ask.

Tally gives me the finger and I try to smother a laugh.

***

I get all my things put away in my locker and sling my backpack over my shoulder. My coat gets caught under the strap but I ignore it as I walk down the hallway. I slide my phone out of my pocket and switch if off, saving the battery that is already at less than ten percent.

When I grip it tightly in my hand and look up, my entire body freezes. My feet falter and I stop in the middle of the nearly empty hallway. The air is caught in my lungs. My palm is sweaty against my phone. I feel like the wind has just got knocked out of me.

Behind the doors at the end of the hallway, I see through the windows the one person I don't want to. He stands, talking to the principal, alone. He smiles pleasantly. It's almost sickening how real it looks. How believable. He no longer looks like a manipulative man who could ruin a life in seconds.

He looks normal.

That's what worries me.

I clench my phone harder and finally suck in a breath, exhaling it shakily. I take a step back, ready to swivel round and walk away when Carl suddenly looks up and he sees me.

The principal continues to talk but Carl only stares at me. His smile turns from serene to taunting. I feel cold. I straighten up and my heart feels like it's hammering against my chest. My stomach feels uneasy and I'm seconds away from throwing up.

A hand comes down on my shoulder and I flinch. I turn to look at Tally who looks at me with concern.

"You okay?" she asks.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Looking back to the doors at the end of the hallway, no relief comes to me when I see no sign of Carl anymore.

"Franny?" Tally calls.

He was right there. In my own school. Steps away from me. The man that has threatened me and probably threatened my dad more than once. I swallow thickly and look at Tally.

"Sorry," I say.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she comments.

If only.

I apologize again and Tally shrugs it off. She lifts her hand and dangles a jingling set of keys between her fingers. "Guess who got a car?"

I raise an eyebrow. "That was sudden."

She grins. "You want a ride home?"

I glance at the doors and nod.

Anything to get me out of here faster.

Tally's car is bright yellow. I stop in front of it and my mouth drops open. "This is your car?"

Tally opens the driver's door and grins at me. "Don't let the color scare you. It's really sweet when you get to know it." She snickers.

"It's bright yellow," I breathe. "Everyone's going to know when you show up to a party."

"Exactly." Tally winks. "Everyone will know when Tally shows up. The party don't start—"

"Till you walk in, yeah, I know," I mutter and begrudgingly get in the passenger seat. "Oh god, what is that smell?"

"New car smell." Tally points at a little fragrance card hanging from the rear-view mirror.

"It smells like someone died," I deadpan.

Tally just grins at me. "Buckle up, kid."

***

The front door is open.

I get out of Tally's car and shut the door, stopping at the sidewalk. Tally comes around and stands beside me. She seems to be thinking about the same thing. My dad would never leave the door open.

I walk forward and look down both ends of the house. He isn't there.

"Franny," Tally says. "This doesn't look good."

I stare into the open doorway and squint when something catches my eye. I narrow my eyes on the object on the ground. And then it hits me.

I race forward, ignoring Tally's calls and run into my house, skidding to an abrupt stop at the kitchen doorway. I look down at the large object on the floor which I can barely recognize. Tally comes up behind me and I hear her sharp gasp when she finally sees what I do.

My dad lies on the floor in a crumpled mess. The entire side of his face is covered in blood. His jaw is slack and blood has pooled over his bottom lip. His body is a beaten, unrecognizable mess. But that isn't the worst of it.

It's not until I see his bloody, beaten-in eye that I turn around and vomit all over the floor.