I pondered for a while, before realizing John had shifted me to the floor and was getting up, anger clear on his face. I quickly scrambled to my feet to follow.
“John?”
He ignored me, turning sharply out of the band wing. I struggled to keep up. I tried to reason with John as he made his way upstairs. “John, this really isn’t the way to solve this! It’s not his fault, it’s mine! I shouldn’t keep hanging around him.”
The anger on his face grew to sheer hatred. We reached the second floor, and I froze.
James was at his locker, trading books into his backpack for the night. His back to us.
Completely unaware.
John’s hands balled into fists, and he marched over to him.
“Jackass,” he murmered.
James turned, and John’s fist went up.
“No!” I cried, and jumped in front of James.
John’s fist crashed into my face, and my head turned sideways from the force of the blow. I cried out in shock, but John took it as a cry of pain. I felt James’ hand on my waist.
My body went limp, and I felt someone catch me.