My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 215

Chapter 215 Studying At The Public Library

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The fluorescent lights of the East Side public library buzzed above my head. The noise resembled a swarm of trapped bees. I stared at the open calculus textbook on the scratched wooden table. The numbers blurred together on the thin paper. I pressed the heels of my hands

against my fired eyes. I needed to focus.

The Crestview school board approved the hearing. Mr. Harrison submitted the formal petition. The administration possessed no choice. They scheduled the tribunal for Friday morning in the main auditorium. Forty-eight hours remained. I possessed one single chance to

stand before the faculty and prove my intellect.

But my mind kept drifting back to the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruiser.

The image of Ryder in metal handcuffs played on a continuous loop behind my eyelids. Trent Lawson baited him. Trent drove his sports cat into the auto garage, threw hundred dollar bills onto the wet floor, and mocked Ryder’s new reality. Ryder retaliated with a high- pressure water hose. Trent pressed criminal property damage charges. The local news vans arrived minutes later. They filmed the billionaire heir getting shoved into the back of a squad car

1 sat on a hard plastic chair in the precinct waiting room for hours. The smell of stale coffee and floor wax coated the back of my throat. My mother sat beside me. She held her faded leather purse tight against her chest.

We waited for the desk sergeant to process the paperwork. The elite controlled the narrative. The reporters labeled Ryder a dangerous delinquent. They ignored Trent throwing cash on the floor. They ignored the blatant provocation.

The heavy metal door clicked open at three in the morning. A police officer escorted Ryder into the waiting room.

He lacked his leather jacket. He wore his damp black t-shirt. The metal cuffs left red marks on his wrists. The dark circles under his hazel eyes looked like deep bruises. He saw me sitting on the plastic chair. A profound, heavy shame crossed his features. He promised to earn his own way. He promised to survive without his father’s money. The affluent elite shattered his promise in a single afternoon.

My mother stood up. She walked to the front desk and handed the officer a thin stack of cash. She emptied her emergency jar to pay the

bail

We walked out into the cold night air. Ryder kept his head down. I tried to grab his hand. He pulled away. He felt the massive weight of his failure. He believed he became the exact burden he swore to avoid.

When we reached the small house, he sat on the makeshift bed on the living room floor. He stared at the blank television screen. I sat beside him. I tried to offer comfort. I told him Trent laid a trap. I told him the arrest meant nothing.

Ryder turned his head. He looked at me with a fierce, unbroken intensity.

I will handle the court date, he said. His voice sounded like cracked stone. I will handle Trent. You possess one job right now, Raisa. You win the tribunal. You use your mind. Let me handle the rest.

I pulled my hands away from my face I picked up my blue ink pen. The memory faded, leaving me alone in the quiet library.

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13:58 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 215 Studying At The Public Library

73

I needed to honor his sacrifice. He surrendered his entire life to save my mother’s diner. He endured the humiliation of a public arrest. 1

could not fail him now. I needed to reclaim the top academic rank. I needed to strip Chloe Vance of her leverage.

I turned the page of the textbook. I focused on the complex equations. I wrote derivatives and integrals on blank index cards. My fingers

cramped from gripping the plastic pen. I ignored the dull ache in my knuckles.

I moved from calculus to biology. The chapter covered cellular respiration. I traced the diagram of a mitochondria with my pen. Glycolysis.

The Krebs cycle. The electron transport chain. I memorized the exact yield of ATP molecules. I visualized the flow of protons across the

inner membrane. I anchored my racing thoughts to the solid, undeniable facts of science.

The public library offered a quiet sanctuary. Rain battered the high windows. A few elderly patrons read newspapers in the faded armchairs near the entrance. The air smelled like dust and damp wool. It lacked the pristine comfort of the Crestview campus library, but

it offered total isolation. I needed the isolation to prepare for the coming war.

A heavy thud broke my concentration.

A designer leather handbag hit the scratched wood of my table.

I looked up. Chloe Vance stood on the opposite side of the table.

She wore a white cashmere sweater and tailored trousers. A diamond pendant rested against her collarbone. She surveyed the public library with overt disgust. She looked at the peeling paint on the ceiling. She looked at the stained carpet. She looked at the elderly man sleeping in the corner armchair. She pulled her pristine sweater tighter around her shoulders, shielding herself from the poverty of my

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