8. Skipped school

IVORY'S POV

We had been walking for thirty minutes now.

Through cracked pavements and across the dry school field, then down a shaded path I didn’t even know existed. I hadn’t said much—just followed in silence like some blindfolded kitten. But now my feet were aching, my bag strap had started to dig into my shoulder again, and my chest was blooming with that old, familiar sensation.

Regret.

What on earth was I thinking?

This was Daniel. Daniel freaking Connor. The same boy who tripped me in the hallways, turned my name into a joke, and made sure every insult hit where it hurt the most. The ring leader of the very wolves I’d been trying to avoid all year.

And here I was, blindly following him into God-knows-where like we were friends. Like he wasn’t the person I should’ve been running from.

A tight knot coiled in my stomach. Every step suddenly felt heavier.

“Where are we going?” I asked again, this time louder, firmer, pushing the shaky edge out of my voice.

Daniel didn’t stop walking—but he slowed.

And then… he turned.

He didn’t say anything, not right away. He just stepped closer. One step. Then another.

And just like that, my confidence dissolved into mist.

The space between us evaporated, and now he was standing right in front of me, the shadows of the trees catching the light in his dark eyes. His height was suddenly overwhelming, and I hated—hated—that my breath hitched just a little.

I tried to take a step back, but he mirrored it with a step forward.

Then, with one swift movement, he leaned down, bracing one arm beside my head against the concrete stair railings behind me. My back hit the cool stone. Trapped. My heart thudded like it was trying to escape.

His voice was low—velvety, mocking, dangerous.

“I told you, Ivory,” he said, eyes not breaking from mine. “Somewhere they wouldn’t find you. I meant it.”

My lips parted to speak but no sound came out.

He reached behind me, and before I could protest, unzipped my bag. My eyes widened. “Hey!”

But Daniel was already digging through it like it belonged to him.

“Oh, you did iron the suits,” he muttered with a mocking chuckle, pulling them out neatly. “I can’t believe you actually did that. You’re more useful than I thought.”

His words were meant to sting. And they did. But beneath the mocking tone, I saw something else flicker in his gaze. Something unreadable. Amusement? Surprise?

Still, a tiny part of me felt the relief bloom. He had noticed. I wouldn’t have to walk up to Blake and Arnold and the rest of the squad like a delivery girl from hell. He held the suits now.

“Thank you,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

A smile tugged at my lips. But then—

It happened.

His smirk deepened. And in one swift, horrifying motion, he tossed my entire bag over his shoulder—straight into the school’s murky pond.

Right into the middle. Right where it was deepest.

And full of frogs.

“No!” I screamed, bolting toward the edge. And just like that, Doctors Lana hard work all went to waste.

Sploosh.

The bag landed with a wet slap, bubbles rising to the surface before the bag began to sink like a rock. Frogs jumped out in panic, the smell of algae and moss slapping me across the face.

My mouth fell open.

“Are you insane?!” I shouted, turning to him.

Daniel only shrugged. “Oops.”

I could practically see the wicked satisfaction dancing in his eyes.

“You just lost the suits,” he added casually, leaning against a tree now, completely unbothered. “You’re screwed. Blake’s gonna have your head. That squad worships their uniforms.”

“You—”

“They’ll probably make you polish their shoes for the rest of the year. If they let you stay.”

My chest heaved. His words twisted something deep in me, and for once, the shame didn't just roll off. It stuck. It burned.

Without thinking—without a single rational thought—I kicked off my shoes and leapt straight into the pond.

I heard him shout something, but I was already in.

The water hit me like a slap. Cold. Thick. Full of green slimy weeds and croaking chaos. It closed over my head before I could scream, pulling at my skirt and dragging me down.

But I didn’t care.

I needed to get the suits. I had to get the suits.

My arms flailed, searching for the sinking bag—but then…

Panic set in.

I couldn’t feel the bottom.

The weight of my clothes dragged me lower. My lungs screamed for air, but when I opened my mouth, water rushed in. I kicked, tried to push up, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive.

I can’t swim.

The realization hit too late.

Everything blurred. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, slower and slower, until—

Darkness.

I sank.

I don’t remember how long it lasted—seconds? Years?

But suddenly, arms wrapped around me. Strong. Urgent. I was yanked upward through the water, gasping, limp.

Then air. Then ground.

Rough hands shook me, and I coughed once, but nothing came. Just more water choking my lungs.

“Come on, damn it—Ivory!” Daniel's voice.

Then—warm lips.

His mouth pressed to mine.

I gasped as he forced air into my lungs. Coughed. Choked.

More water came rushing out of me.

I blinked and the world snapped back into color. The trees. The pond. The awful taste of pond water in my mouth.

I was alive.

And Daniel—Daniel was still kissing me.

Or maybe not kissing—more like CPR, but still. His hands cradled my head, his body hovered over mine, dripping wet.

My chest heaved, and in pure panic and shame and confusion, I did the only thing I could think of.

I slapped him.

Hard.

His head snapped to the side.

A collective gasp echoed behind me.

That’s when I noticed it.

We had a crowd.

Half the school must’ve heard the splash because now there were at least twenty students watching. Phones out. Whispering. Laughing. Staring.

And me? Sopping wet. Straddled by Daniel Connor .My lips still tingling.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” I stammered, pushing away from him.

Daniel ran a hand through his dripping hair, then looked at me—really looked. His usual smirk was gone. In its place was something raw. Unreadable.

“You idiot,” he muttered, breathless. “You were going to drown over some stupid suits.”

I blinked at him, tears mixing with pond water.

He stood up, clothes sticking to his frame, water dripping from his sleeves.

Then, with a low voice, just for me, he added:

“You really are something else, Ivory.”

He walked away without another word, shoving through the crowd as if he couldn’t stand their gawking. People parted for him like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea.

I sat there, coughing and gasping and confused out of my mind.

And somewhere, deep down, beneath the embarrassment and cold—

I wasn’t sure if I hated him more…

Or wanted to understand him.