Blocked

John's fingers trembled as he tapped the block button so hard his nail clicked against the screen. The video disappeared, but the image burned behind his eyelids—Brittany's smeared makeup, Jamal's smirk, that fucking text about his sister. His stomach churned like he'd swallowed battery acid.

Grace's knee pressed harder against his. "Seriously, dude. You're green." Her whisper cut through the buzzing in his ears. She smelled like that vanilla lotion she always used, the kind that came in the pink bottle from the drugstore. Her glasses slid down again, revealing the tiny freckles on her nose that only showed up in summer.

Mr. Henderson droned on about quadratic equations, his marker squeaking against the whiteboard. Somewhere to the left, Tyler snorted and muttered something about "Doe looking like he's gonna cry." Lacey giggled, high and fake, her acrylic nails tapping against Tyler's bicep.

John puts his head down for the rest of the day. Going through the motions for the rest of his classes. Finally the bell ring in English and the day was over. Getting ready to leave he hears someone call out.

Across the room, Jamal's imposing figure filled the doorway, his Jordans squeaking on the linoleum floor. His letterman jacket swung open, revealing sweat stains on his gray tank top. "Hey, Doe," he called out, his voice dripping with malice. "Checked your messages yet?"

Jamal's phone chimed, and he flashed a slow, nasty grin as he swiped through his screen. "Damn, Megan's looking thirsty in these DMs," he said, his voice loud enough to draw attention from the freshmen in the hall.

John's stomach roiled, a wave of nausea washing over him.