For the first twenty minutes or so of my planning period, I grade essay outlines and plan out next week’s lessons, but my thoughts keep drifting to Smith—to where he might have been this morning and why he’d miss class.

This isn’t your problem, I try to tell myself. It isn’t any of your business what he does and doesn’t do.

And when lecturing myself doesn’t work, I decide to distract myself with junk food from the faculty vending machine. The way I see it, it’s never too early for snack cakes. Or potato chips. Or candy.

I grab a couple of dollars from my purse and head down the hallway toward the teachers’ lounge. I think a Twix or Butterfinger might make it a little easier to concentrate. That, or give me a quality sugar rush, which might be preferable overall.

But when I yank open the door to the lounge, I immediately stop in my tracks. There are three students inside, standing next to the vending machines. The only one I know is J. D., but the two others are seniors, too—one of them is on the basketball team, I think, and the other has one of those stylish ankle bracelets I’ve heard so much about.

“What are you guys doing in here?” I cross my arms over my chest. “This is the teachers’ lounge.”

J. D. glances over at me and there’s something about his expression that feels sort of dirty, like he’s picturing me naked while his eyes run over my body.

“We’re just finishing up, Miss Hendricks,” he says, his voice deep and smoky.

I’m about to assign them all detention, when I see one of the other guys hand J. D. a wad of cash. He pockets it, then pulls out a small plastic bag from his backpack. The blood begins to drain from my face and I can practically feel it as it courses through my veins, toward my pounding heart.

A drug deal. There’s a drug deal going down, right now, in front of me.

For a moment, I’m a little too shocked to move, and I watch J. D. bumps fists with his buddies.

“Yo, I’ll hit you up later,” he says. As he walks toward me, I realize I’ve got my back to the door. Basically, I’m the only thing between J. D. and the exit.

And I refuse to budge. Instead, I tilt my chin up and glare at him.

“You’re going to need to come with me.”

I look past him at the other boys.

“So are the two of you.”

At first, they just stare at me. Then all three of them look at each other and burst out laughing.

“I’m out, y’all.” J. D. calls over his shoulder as he pushes past me and opens the door. “Peace.”

I don’t even think about the right course of action. I just grab the strap of his backpack with one hand and tug hard.

“Excuse me—where do you think you’re going?” I demand.

For a long moment, J. D. stands perfectly still. His back is to me, but I can see his shoulders flexing beneath his shirt. Slowly, he turns back around and appraises me. I’ve never noticed before how large he is—mostly because I’ve never been this close to him. He’s not muscular—he’s just big. Heavy. Like a linebacker, but less athletic. He’s got a broad nose that looks like it’s been broken one too many times, and his eyes are bloodshot.

Which is when I realize he isn’t just dealing drugs right now—he’s probably doing them, too.

Now he cracks the knuckles on his right hand and takes a step closer toward me. The lounge door swings shut behind him with a resounding thud.

“What do you think you’re going to do?” he says in a low voice. “You’re not even a real teacher—you can’t do shit to me.” He comes even closer and I hold up a hand between us.

“J. D., you need to take a step back,” I say firmly.

“I don’t need trouble from you,” he says, ignoring me and my hand. His mouth curls up into a sneer and I can see he’s got an under-lip tattoo on his bottom lip. Classy. I try really hard not to shudder.

“You just do your teaching thing and stay the fuck out of my way,” he demands.

I shake my head, refusing to back down. “No. You need to come to the principal’s office. I saw you dealing drugs. Not only is that illegal on a school campus, it’s illegal, period. You don’t get to walk away from this without some consequences for your actions.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Bitch, don’t make me explain this to you any more clearly. Stay the fuck out of my way.”

He enunciates the last few words, then makes a biting motion with his teeth.

Behind me, I feel the wall. He’s backed me into a corner, and the only door is now blocked by the other two students—two fairly large, fairly imposing male students, both standing with their arms crossed and smirks on their faces.

“You need to back off, J. D.,” I say loudly, praying that someone will hear me through the walls. “This behavior is completely unacceptable and will not be tolerated.”

He leans into me then, and I can smell the stale cigarette smoke emanating from his jacket. When his breath wafts over my face, the scent of liquor is unmistakable, too.

“Being a nosy bitch won’t be tolerated, either.”

He reaches out and grips my chin. I have to force myself not to quake with fear that’s coasting through me like a freight train. Instead, I open my mouth to scream, but before I can make a sound, J. D. clamps his hand over it.

“I don’t think so,” he hisses.

“Yo, Fenton.” One of the guys by the door looks nervous. “Let her go, man.”

J. D. sort of snorts, then shakes his head.

“These fucking grad school chicks come up in here and think they’re going to save the hoodlums of America. It’s about time I teach one of them a lesson instead of the other way around.”

The other boy shakes his head. “Then you’re on your own, man. I can’t afford another suspension.”

The two guys slip out without even a backward glance, effectively leaving me alone and at J. D.’s mercy.

“Still want to tell me what to do now, bitch?” he hisses in my face.

I try to speak, but his hand is still over my mouth. Desperate, I try to bite his palm. When he realizes what I’m trying to do, he chuckles.

“A biter, huh? I wouldn’t have thought that about you, Miss Hendricks. It’s always the quiet ones that like things a little rough.”

He takes his other hand and traps both of my wrists in a frighteningly strong grip. I close my eyes and swallow hard. I’m an idiot for thinking I should intervene on a drug deal.

And then, without warning, J. D.’s gone.

When my eyes fly open, I see him slammed up against the wall across from me, a muscular forearm and elbow crushing his windpipe.

Smith.

When he pulls back, J. D. drops to the ground, gasping for air.

“Dammit, Asher—what the fuck’s your deal?”

Smith sort of snarls at that.

“You oughta learn to keep your fucking hands to yourself, Fenton,” he growls.

“Shit, man, I was just trying to scare the bitch. Having a little fun, you know.”

Smith cocks his fist back and sucker-punches J. D. right in the nose. He yelps and I watch as blood spurts out onto the linoleum floor. Guess that’ll be another time his nose has been broken.

“You just stay the hell away from her,” he demands.

Smith steps back, scrubbing a hand over his face. His chest is heaving and he’s staring at me now—his eyes look almost bottomless. They’re darker than I’ve ever seen them and deeper than I would have thought possible. I want to go to him, want to tuck myself into his arms and cling to him. Instead, I lean back against the cold, hard wall.

When J. D. manages to get up, there is blood soaking through his shirt and he’s holding a hand over his nose. He starts to stumble toward the door, but, before he can reach it, it swings open and Officer Rains comes charging through.

“What’s going on in here? I heard yelling.” He looks from J. D. to Smith, then over to me. “Miss Hendricks, are you all right?”

I swallow hard, then glance at J. D.

“I caught Mr. Fenton selling drugs to two other students. I asked him to go to the principal’s office. He wouldn’t listen. He used inappropriate language. He—he grabbed my face. He had me pinned up against the wall.”