Civil War

It's a conscious effort to raise my chin and show Shrek here that he doesn't intimidate me. "This seat'll be fine," I say, loud enough to echo in the now-silent classroom.

He doesn't remove his hand. I narrow my eyes.

Through gritted teeth he says, "We won't talk with you around. You won't learn anything sitting here, so go back to your friends." His face is getting red, but with the khakis and polo that mark all of Chase's brethren, I figure he won't hit a girl.

But he thinks I'm a Shade. Would he hit a Shade?

Refusing to be intimidated by this asswipe, I stick my nose in his face. "They aren't my friends." This is true. I have no idea who those people are. "And I've done nothing to you. So shut your clamhole, Brutus."

The Shades cackle. I fight down a smile because Brutus looks like he'll bite something. Probably me. Then a girl appears next to me wearing a denim skirt and keds. Seriously?