The way Hayden had walked in, one hand tucked lazily in his pocket, was unbearably cool.
I had not expected him to speak up for me, not when every accusation in the room already branded me guilty of starting the fire. But the moment he did, it was like he had painted a target on his own back. The parents turned on him with the same venom they had shown me.
The whispers, the stares; they judged him before he could even finish a sentence. Why? Because of what we had done in the restroom?
Just as I was about to say something, a figure lunged at him. My eyes widened. It was my mother.
"How could you—you pervert! Stephanie is only seventeen!"
Her fingers gripped his shirt, shaking him with all the fury of a storm. Hayden's eyes widened in shock as he tried to pry her off. She was small compared to him, almost childlike against his frame, but her rage made her reckless.
