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? Chapter 2: It Gets Worse ?

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Greta was speechless, her lips quivering as she tried - and failed - to drum up a response. Instead, she huffed, walking out with the same furious vigor she had when she walked in.

"This isn't over, basketcase." she said, followed by her entourage. "Let's go, girls."

Rolling her eyes at the empty insult and stuffing the knife back into her shoe, she ambled over to the stall, gently knocking on it.

"Hey, Marsh," she quietly cleared her throat, trying to dispel the scratch that had formed from shouting. "You okay?"

Muffled, Chris heard a quiet "Fine" from the other side of the door.

Backing away when she heard the lock unlatch, Beverly stepped out, exasperated. She seemed relatively unscathed, but her backpack had taken the brunt of the attack, sludge and water spilling from its surface as she dragged it behind her.

"I was gonna toss it anyway." A ghost of a smile appeared on her face, trying to look reassuring but undeniably distraught.

Shifting from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling her hands start to clam up, Chris grabbed her bag from where she left it in the stall.

"I think I saw 'em head out the west wing." she said, peeling a soggy pad wrapper off of the other girl's backpack strap and tossing it back into the trashcan. "You'd probably be better off going out the back. I could walk with you if you want."

"Nah, it's alright. I think I've dragged you into enough." she shrugged.

"Psh, you didn't drag me into anything." she said with a wave. "I've been wanting an excuse to do that all semester."

That time, a genuine smile appeared on Beverly's face, small and hardly noticeable had it not been for the giggle that accompanied it. Chris felt a warm feeling somewhere in her chest, like she had just drank a freshly brewed tea. Only this was was something a little more lightening, nicer.

"You sure you'll be okay, Marsh?"

The girl walked past her, hefting her still-moist backpack on her shoulders, having dried it as much as she could with the thin paper towels next to the sink.

"Yeah," Almost entirely out the door, she turned around with a friendly half-smile. "I'll see you around, Just Chris."

As the door swung closed, she thanked whoever was listening that Beverly didn't linger to see the blush that bloomed across her cheeks.

_____

Feeling more tired than when she woke up that day, she pushed the doors to the outside world open. The sun was hidden behind a cover of clouds, and yet the sweltering summer air was already hitting her like a wave, the loose hairs that hadn't fit in her already short ponytail sticking to the back of her neck. Immediately zeroing in on a group of boys beyond the sea of kids, she felt herself ease up a little more. They were all gathered around a line of trashcans, dumping the contents of their backpacks inside them. Joining their yearly ritual, Chris felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

A small boy in a red polo looked up at her after zipping his backpack closed. "Hey Chris."

Meekly, a tall boy with curly hair and a neatly pressed baby blue button-up - Stan - nodded at her in greeting.

"Finally, we thought you died." the bespectacled boy next to her said, looking like he was waiting for an uproar of laughter.

She punched him in the arm.

"Anyway, what are we gonna do tomorrow?" the small one - Eddie - said without missing a beat.

"Start my training." the one next to her - Richie - pushed his glasses higher up his nose.

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