Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

“You look like you’re about to drop a bomb on us. Are you pregnant?” my mom joked.

I snorted. At this moment, even that felt better than the truth. I wished I could delay telling them about the detention, but my dad would be so angry if I didn’t tell them now.

“I got detention.”

They frowned and glanced at each other. “Detention? But how is that possible, Jessica? What did you do?” Mom asked.

It was almost like they expected me to say Gotcha! There’s a hidden camera. I wished there were a hidden camera and this weren’t real. I wished I hadn’t thrown Blake’s phone on the ground to start with.

“Jessica?” Dad prodded, his tone revealing an impending argument.

I should’ve finished my breakfast first. I pushed my plate with the half-eaten eggs aside. “I threw my classmate’s phone on the ground.”

Mom brought her hand to her chest. “Jesus.”

Dad’s face turned so grim I felt like I’d committed a felony. “Why did you do that?”

I kept my eyes firmly on my plate, bristling at his rising voice. My parents weren’t aware of how much I was bullied in school, because I was too ashamed to tell them all the details. They thought it was something temporary and insignificant, something that would pass if I ignored it. They told me to ignore bullies and focus on my studies and they would leave me alone. Little do they know.

I’d mentioned Blake to my mom once, and all she told me was to stay away from him and report him to my teachers. As if it was that easy. As if Blake cared about school authorities—he was the authority, all thanks to the cash his parents threw around in the name of school donations.

“The boy I told you about,” I began, glancing at Mom. “He bullied me in class again today. He didn’t stop no matter how much I pleaded for him to. He was horrible…so I just snapped.”

The silence in the kitchen was too loud. “So you just snapped,” Dad repeated.

“Yes,” I replied with red cheeks. “I grabbed his phone and threw it on the ground…and his screen broke.”

Dad ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you would do something like that. That boy should be punished for his actions, but you didn’t have to stoop to his level. I thought we raised you better than that.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry, but he just wouldn’t stop—”

“Then you should’ve reported him to the teacher,” Dad interrupted.

“That doesn’t help, Dad! The teachers in our school are not like you. Our principal is not like you. They don’t care.”

“Well, it’s high time they start caring now that the school board is changing.” He stopped next to me and put the water bottle down on the counter. “I’m going to talk to your principal again and demand he do his job.”

“In the meantime, you’re going to apologize to the boy and pay for his phone screen,” my mom said.

NO. That was an absolute no. I didn’t even want to imagine how badly that would go. Blake didn’t need my apology, and he’d already said paying for his screen wouldn’t do me any good.

“I’m afraid of him, Mom, so I don’t want to go anywhere near him. And he’s the one who should apologize to me! For everything he’s done to me.”

Dad scowled deeply. “Has he ever hit you or physically abused you?”

I chipped away at my nail polish. “It’s complicated.”

“Jessica.” His stern voice demanded obedience. “Did that boy hit you?”

“No, he never hit me. He just manhandles me most of the time.”

He let out a long sigh. “We’ll talk to the boy’s parents and—”

“No!” I exclaimed. I was horrified just thinking about that. I didn’t want to drag Blake’s and my parents into this, which most likely wouldn’t do anything to help me. It would only anger Blake, and then all hell would break loose. “I-I’ll talk to him and apologize.”

My dad looked at me as if he didn’t buy it. “Will you?”

The blush on my cheeks intensified. “I will.”

There was no way I would actually talk to him and apologize for the broken screen. I’d rather eat glass.

“Good,” Mom said. “And I really hope you won’t resort to damaging people’s property in order to deal with them again. What you did is never the solution. Owen will talk to your principal and make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“That isn’t necessary—”

“Of course it’s necessary,” Dad said. “I don’t want students to harass you. Also, that can affect your grades, and we’ve already told you how important your grades are. You can’t hope to get accepted by top universities if you start getting bad grades and detentions. So if I hear you got one more detention or made any more trouble, I won’t buy you a new guitar.”

My jaw dropped. “What? But I’ve been asking for that guitar for years!”

“Then you better make sure not to make another mistake.”

I wanted to cry. They weren’t being fair. All my life I’d been studying hard, always obsessing over my grades, and now that I’d gotten a detention for the first time in my life, they were treating me like I was going to become a delinquent.

I dashed back to my room and closed the door with a bang, angry tears spilling from my eyes. I felt the need to shout my resentment to the whole world. I hated being so impotent.

When I was seven, my grandmother taught me how to play a guitar and gave me her Martin—an acoustic guitar she’d owned since she was in her twenties—as a birthday present. It was special for me because it had guided me into the world of music and helped me discover who I was, and I’d grown to love it more than anything else I had. It was my anchor when I felt lost and my source of joy when I felt blue. It’d led me to singing.

However, its tonal quality wasn’t as good