His Broken Angel's Dying Secret

The sharp scratch of Mr. York's chalk against the blackboard snapped Claire's attention away from the dull ache in her abdomen. "Open your textbooks to page forty-two," Mr. York instructed the class. "We are starting Shakespeare's sonnets." Claire reached down and pulled the zipper of her backpack open. She sifted through her notebooks and folders. Her hands suddenly froze. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She remembered last night. The stomach pain had flared up so violently she had collapsed at her desk. She had blacked out from the agony before she could pack her bag for today. The heavy literature textbook was still sitting on her bedroom floor. Cold sweat instantly broke out across Claire's forehead. She could not get a detention on her first day. She could not draw that kind of negative attention to herself. Mr. York stepped away from the chalkboard. He began walking down the narrow aisles, checking the students' desks. His heavy footsteps grew closer. Claire kept her head down. Her fingers nervously twisted the loose yarn at the hem of her oversized sweater. The fabric stretched tight across her knuckles. Beside her, Bishop had his eyes closed. The frantic rustling of her clothes and her rapid breathing made his dark eyebrows pull together. He opened his eyes. He glanced at her completely empty desk. He looked down at her white, shaking fingers gripping her sweater. He understood exactly what was happening. Mr. York stopped directly in front of Claire's desk. "Miss Hansen," Mr. York said, his voice stern. "Where is your textbook?" The entire class turned around in their seats. Some students smirked. Others watched with mild pity. Claire opened her mouth. Her throat felt completely dry. "I..." she started, trying to formulate a believable lie. A heavy, thick textbook suddenly slid across the surface of the desk. It stopped right in front of Claire's folded hands. "It's hers," a deep, rough voice said. Claire snapped her head to the side. Bishop was leaning back in his chair. His long legs were stretched out under the desk. His face was completely blank. Mr. York's face darkened with immediate anger. He turned his glare onto Bishop. "And where is your textbook, Mr. Dalton?" York demanded. Bishop shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. He tilted his chin up in a blatant display of disrespect. "Forgot it," Bishop said flatly. The classroom went dead silent. Jax Adler sucked in a loud breath through his teeth. Mr. York's face turned a deep shade of red. He pulled a pink slip of paper from his shirt pocket and slammed it onto Bishop's desk. "Principal's office. Right now," York snapped, his voice shaking with fury. "I am not dealing with your insolence today." Bishop didn't even look at the slip. He stood up. He kicked his chair back so hard it slammed into the desk behind him. He grabbed his empty black backpack from the floor. He didn't look at Mr. York, and he didn't look at Claire. He walked straight down the aisle and out the door. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang. Claire stared at the textbook sitting in front of her. The cover was still slightly warm from his hands. Her chest felt incredibly tight. When the bell finally rang, Claire packed her bag quickly. She caught up to Willow in the hallway. She casually asked where the lockers for the juniors with the last name Dalton were located. During the lunch hour, the hallways were packed with students heading to the cafeteria. Claire slipped away from the crowd. She walked down the quiet north corridor until she found a locker covered in faded black marker tags. She looked left and right. The hallway was empty. She reached into the deep pocket of her sweater and pulled out a small, shiny object. It was a strawberry hard candy wrapped in clear plastic. It was the candy she sucked on to kill the disgusting chemical taste of her chemotherapy. It was the only thing of value she had on her. She pulled a yellow sticky note from her bag. She clicked her pen and wrote two words in neat, careful cursive. Thank you. Claire folded the sticky note around the candy. She pushed it through the narrow ventilation slits at the top of the metal locker door. She heard it drop softly onto whatever was inside. The tight, painful knot in her stomach seemed to loosen just a fraction. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. She turned and walked back toward the cafeteria, her thin frame disappearing into the sea of students. Around the corner, leaning against the cinderblock wall, Bishop stood perfectly still. He had just walked out of the principal's office after enduring a twenty-minute lecture, deciding to skip the rest of the period and wander the empty halls instead. His dark eyes tracked Claire's retreating back until she was gone.